We ain't goin' to the town, we're goin' to cut some pants
Well, well, well. Yesterday was Day 2 d'internship. I cut out the pants pattern for Monsieur Paul Banks. If you do not know who Paul Banks is, I wish I were you - that would make this internship a whole lot easier.
So I'm skipping class today, midterming it up tonight, and ultimately taking a big poop in a shoe for Thursday. That means my shoe design midterm is Thursday - and the specifications are a little rough. There is a lot, lot, lot of work to be done. Then I go back to the internship on Friday. So tiring, all this hoohaa.
I called Schmeeds last night and starting babbling incoherent existentialism - specifically "existentialism" because I was actually telling him that it's like he/I never existed, and even further -- existed together. I was trying to be clear, but it came out sounding like I was a drugged philosopher, guzzling red wine at a little bar in Paris, kicking one crossed leg, a jaunty beret on my head. I was unsuccessful to say the least. But it's true - and it's not necessarily true just about breakups - it's true just in the sense of how my life is right now. Everything is different, no one is the same, etc. etc. Anything I left behind in New Mexico is a figment of my imagination at this point, and it's my own doing - I've constructed such a distance between here and there (physically and metaphysically), how can any of it be alive? I wonder if it's really wrong to push things so far away - ex-boyfriends, parents, friends, ex-friends - that it seems like little cartoon characters are calling you once a week, pressing you for information, demanding to know answers about your life.
I don't have the answers, but it feels like someone must be drugging my daily coffee.
2005-03-16 | 10:29 a.m.
