scrawls.

scrawls

still cheaper than therapy*

12.6.11

only water, clear water. i find my body in a place i did not leave it: i look around and inspect myself, and i am unharmed, and this is when i observe it simultaneously quite unremarkable, rather expected really, and utterly shocking.

(this cheese sandwich is sublime. Want to hear about it? Nah.)

Labels: reflection, separation

scrawled @ 20:44

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8.6.11

i know i don't have to repaint the old place (though they'd want it all white if i did) but i want to leave it clean and habitable. i want my deposit back, sure, but i want to close it and leave it behind me and, i don't know, maybe not be ashamed of the time i was there, of the state i left it in. And so i touch up the walls, all the same, the holes in the tile from the vormieter i can't do anything for, i asked and the faded curtains can stay. In the years there i installed ceiling lights and insulated the windows with that foamy stuff and replaced the busted dishwasher, i had the water heater cleaned and serviced, and the kitchen looks a thousand times better in my even brown than in the old assault of half-yellow, and the cobwebs are gone. And the floor, i put all that poly on the hardwood floor ...

but now there are crayons all over the place and half-packed suitcases and big bags of clothes, boxes of books, boxes of toys, a ziplock bag full of leftover screws and nails and unmatchable pieces of IKEA. All the pictures are leaning against the wall (i filled in the nail-holes) but they fall over, surprising everybody. I am so ready to be done that i have lost all motivation to pick up the crayons on what would be sure to be an interim basis. Ten days. Why bother?

Labels: house

scrawled @ 09:45

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