1. I lost my job. I love my job. I love my boss. I feel confident and happy and proud and respected when I'm at work. For three years I have been donating my ideas, working without benefits, and working my ass off to make things better, because I love kids and I love art. My paychecks also help me not be homeless. By not being homeless I can continue volunteering at the homeless shelter. I have a hunch it would be weird to be a resident and a volunteer. Oh wait they all are in a way. I guess I would fit in somewhere, for once.
2. Zack Kokomoor died. He was tripping on acid and thought his friends were after him so he went arms first through a window and severed an artery and bled to death. His friends called 911 but they dipped. How in this day and age does someone in Chicago bleed to death. What the fuck man. Zack was awesome. My favorite memory of him was when he was about 17 or 18 and we were at Danny's shitty punk house on the gravel alley in Akron, and he was in his Bob Evan's uniform, and I took some pictures of him with this hand gun, I don't know I guess my sense of humor was better then. Drew and Erin and I went to his memorial service yesterday in Bath, then we went to the wake in Lake of the Woods. I haven't been there in at least ten years. There was a bartender, and it was catered. Weird but really nice. A bunch of dudes from Chicago come down. Even though they abandoned him. Even though he was trying to stay sober and they gave him LSD. His girlfriend read something she had written. His sister told us a story that made us laugh and cry. His dad told the truth, he had the whole place laughing and crying terribly. There was music and it wasn't too Jesus-y. At the end they played Tears in Heaven by Eric Clapton, because he wrote than when his own son died. When his son fell out of a window! I was kind of mad at myself for crying so bad, that song sucks! But it was so sad, so sad. I looked at his grandma and she was beside herself, it was awful. His mom was so sweet afterwards, and his sister Sarah. We all got drunk. Chicago went to shoot off fireworks. Ian Marshall and Tom Mocarski from high school were there. I miss those kids sometimes. Tom stopped drinking, probably a good idea. Said we would have been at his funeral if he would have kept it up.
3. I'm pretty positive my boyfriend is up to no good. I mean. I know he is. I have caught him. No, not that. Close enough. Pretty much the same thing in my eyes, but I've been crying so much I can't see a thing. I love him so much. I want to marry him. I want to have his babies. I want to know him and love him when he's old and I'm old, and our tattoos look like a blue blob and I have to cook the carrots and we can walk hand in hand and maybe by then he won't care about public displays of interest. He said he wants all this too, he used to say it on his own but now I'm not allowed to talk about anything. There's so much more. Why can't we just go to Alaska or Guam or somewhere.
4.
No comments:
Post a Comment