RCarman

Green tea and scotch tape. I am 29 but feel like that Julie Delpy character telling Ethan Hawke how she is a very old woman looking back on her life. Or perhaps the imaginings of a very young girl. Either/or I often do not live in the present, continuously list-making and talking at length to my imaginary therapist about my need for medications she tells me I don't need because the answer is within. In a dream you saw a way to survive and were full of joy. I am guilty, I am grown-up but free. The tea water was taking to long to boil this morning and I felt the vast amounts of time wasted, not in waiting, but in anticipation. Waiting is the in between time I use to draw in my journal. Anticipation is paying off my debts. Anticipation is driving my car when I should be riding my bike. When I am not sleeping I am working on my zine. Even if it looks like I am cleaning or sleeping or cooking for the kids at my work I am writing and drawing. My mind reels and forgets to check in. My imaginary therapist told me I need to work on this. She believes my obsessive compulsiveness interferes with a having safe relationship with myself. "Let go," she once told me as I was deep cleaning the kitchen. The song "Emily" by Pink Floyd is about me. I am a Pisces. I have been in love for almost 5 years. Stop thinking that. You don't believe me, do you? I don't believe anybody either when they say they're in love - especially when they get married. Then I know they really are not in love. Jessica and Dave. That's all. They are the only ones I know for sure. I have two cats. They drive me mad.

Waltz Across Texas and another other song bound to break my heart.

Wes Anderson.

Zines. Cooking. Making projects for friends because it's the way I show my affection. Sewing together white paper and pasting it into old children books. Felt creatures. Painting cork people and placing them all around town with uplifting quotes. Zines. Tampering with the bulletin board at my old work (and only feeling sorry when I get suspended). Writing and drawing in my notebook. Sketching out people on the street in front of the cafe. Gathering feathers and banding them to my pens. Going to the Pottery Lounge on Oregon St. to paint on blank pottery. Making mix-tapes. Making playlists. Posting Craiglists Missed Encounters ads for people I have brief encounters with, Chalking on the sidewalk in front of my residence. Reading tarot cards and palms and tea leaves and dreams and omens. Listening.