[ Monday, December 27, 2004 ]
-->randomness<--
stumbled across a website tonight. a little girl who lived down the road. who grew up. who is now doing graphic design & art & just extraordinary pieces of work.
i remember her.
she rode my bus. we were the last two stops. we would sit behind the bus driver & talk about this little old man who tormented big andy ridge. he had long beard and a little rusty maroon car and drove 10mph. he was clay. a cable. she could talk just like him. because she spent a long time talking to him. we'd tell stories--meaning she'd tell stories about clay & i'd take them in & laugh because he was eccentric & sometimes scary & afraid that someone would break into his trailer. so he rigged up a shotgun to the door, then ended up shooting himself in the leg because he was testing it and apparently it worked and no one broke into clay's trailer because the story spread through the state. or at least the county.
but i remember her. and how alone she seemed. and i think about the artist she is now. and how maybe that lonliness created the need to communicate. i think that's where it comes from. just a general feeling of no one understands or no one sees this shit the way i do. i think that compels you to put it down on paper or canvas, to lay it out anyway that you can.
i'm thinking about shitty apartments, broken typewriters, words plunked out because they have to be plunked out, because they'll kill you if they're not plunked out, because they'll gnaw the lining of your belly if they're not plunked out. i'm thinking about men who spent lifetimes inside shitty little apartments, who sometimes ate & sometimes didn't. who wrote. hard, raw, w/ no sugar coating or sickly sweet layers to cover the shit. it's such an admirable and sad fucking life--to write, not because you're expecting a sleek, shiny hardback but to write because words are an honest companion.
i'm thinking about clay. and lonely little girls on buses. and how that feeling of never quite fitting in just might have been an accidental blessing. i'm thinking about pretenses & what's it all mean. and maybe it just doesn't mean shit. take in what you can. survive however you can survive. don't aim for happiness. live for seconds. blissful little seconds. little moments of pure uncensored, unfiltered joy. hoard those motherfuckers up. wear them like a coat. and if you survive with hope intact, bless your heart.
~ Rebecca 9:38 PM [+]
Another year almost came and gone. Don't honestly know what to think about it Good? Bad? Okay?
Well I guess i will just take it a day at a time...no a second at a time. That might be some of the best advice i have heard all year. You still have a following. Take care and it was TERRIfic to see you leave a post.
By 
, at
10:55 AM
