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mini miniature mouse. go to this. fumi is a goddess of illustration. I’m cheesy but it’s true.
plus she’s awesome and you will want to tuck her into your pocket and keep her to yourself, but you cannot because she is mine.
don’t let that deter you from enjoying her art though.
>>another favorite<<
the MOST disappointing thing in the world is not being broke, or lonely, or missing the last bart train but rather it is
realizing the limitations of your self or your art or a tool (camera, my hand after I cut it the other night, the clay on the wheel with its grit that’ll never ever be fine enough) or your brain or your partner or your peers or your legs when you just can’t go any faster or any longer, before you get to this revelation, everything’s ideal. I can remain in that state for a long time. Denial or not wanting to really know…
there is a limit. this disappoints me greatly.
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Oh yeah and Michael too.
In the last ten minutes i’ve seen two boys with long nerdy hair in ponytails walking towards me with their heads down, reading sci fi novels. Oh berkeley!!!
I like free wifi.
dahlias through mesh I, visivo.
I can smell my laundry from downstairs. The farmers market makes me glow and leaves my pockets empty! It also makes me want to cook for someone, or bake or go to the beach with a small picnic and laze and adventure in the late afternoon with sand in my hair and salty air and salty, olive-oily heirloom tomatoes.
I restarted netflix, as if I can afford it, I am such a homebody. I feel one of those pulls; I am comfortable being alone and the idea of meeting up is daunting… though simultaneously inviting. I don’t know if I have the energy, and I also don’t know who is true any more. I know there are many that deserve my energy (I owe a lot of energy to important people), but on a day like this, there should be someone to fall into, to talk to, to share things with and just be kinda quiet.
But for now I’ll get back to reading bitch.
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…I aint too proud to say.
I can’t get you out of my mind.
okay okay okay, should I let go?
I have no idea what to do with myself.
What a cliché. It’s not specific (or clean, or easy it’s
complex and involved, within myself but not, well, you.)
– it’s the whole thing — a true disconnect from what I knew and loved.
People don’t change.
But they do!
They do!
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