mark is sleeping in my bed. I don't know where I am sleeping yet. The living room will be too full of people to comfortably sleep there.
I have always been able to maintain control. situations. things. we have a really smashing answering machine message right now. Of course my mother calls and remarks in her own charming message, "deanna, that was the dumbest message I have ever heard". She likes to gloat like that. Francis was very disturbed by it and even further understood my mother's innate way of squelching all creative activities and ideas with so little effort. Francis is sleeping right now, mumbling some shit about my keystrokes sounding like music. I love Francis. She fucking rocks.
I dreamt, daydream like about muddy oily spots in water. Like residual bubbled dreams. Wondered if. Wandered in. I think so much about all these gigantic mountainous obstacles in my way to a greater peace. Francis and I went to the anarchist circus today. They wanted her to speak. Instead the highlight was watching mark fill up water balloons off of a busted fire hydrant for a bunch of squealing girls. He looked happy, glasses barely perched on the end of his ...
A knock came on my window yesterday afternoon, the illustrious vectorman was back in the house, consequently, back in my life.
To what extent one never knows. I started remembering snowstorms in Brooklyn, torn down loves. trust. fate.
Spent much of yesterday afternoon, crouched down in the park, drawing diagrams with him..diagrams of sticks and stones, and pieces of leaves. collaborating, explaining. He is that kind of light. beauty. so beautiful and good that he is afraid of himself. He speaks in a language all his own, and most don't know how to take him so they fight him off, badger him with fists and frights of words that leave him cowered, broken. I am happy he is around again. I have made many new friends as of late. Most due to the stagnation of telephone lines connected to boxes. The internet, ah yes. Most of my new crew came from there. Jason and Jason and Jeff and Matt, and Jeremy and Colin, and Leon, Chad, Carl, Robert, yet another Jason, and. Beatrice. I hung out in a pack yesterday that was uncomfortable at best to describe. Today I have a photoshoot in just a couple of hours. The photographer is some ...
so yea. This new friend. Hanging out with him makes me feel a little less meat-like in terms of the usual come ons and chilling experiences I have encountered in my life...Most of the time, I'll hang out with someone and they spend the majority of the time pawing, haphazard attempts at jumping in my pants, or just staring like assholes while I speak. Boring. This one, strangely enough, would probably not horrify my parents either. Professors. Kind of a sick little fantasy in that. He's quiet. He and I argued the relevance of hollywood movies and whether or not we should be disappointed in what they offer us in endings. We saw road to perdition. He was disappointed. I felt like there was no point in being disappointed by hollywood because the standards have been levelled and decimated from years of hokey middle american white bread endings. So my whole methods of judgement are whacked out. He still has hope I guess. So strange the combination of us, arguing our shit in union pool last night, perched on picnic tables. me on jack he on some whacked out beer and bushmills. The point is, one who has not seen ...
