On Saturday I belonged to three occurrences that I’d like to keep in a Joseph Cornell box:
An old Asian couple at 7:30 AM on Pollock. Bending her knees, him marching in place. Jackets and hats and cold weather.
An old French man with a pipe asking me if I was from Paris. My heart threw up with gratitude.
A bum in a shopping cart, which was connected to a bike being ridden by another bum, cruised past our car on Tropicana and Eastern.
I haven’t been blogging because I’ve been doing gigantic math packets, talking with Brandon, watching movies, sleeping, constructing hands, making new people out of swift ink lines.
Yesterday, I fought with my ex boyfriend. He owes me money, which he says he never signed anything saying he had to pay it back. It’s ok though because he will never make it to a University or get signed or married to anything but a bitch or write a book or amount to anything really. He is the definition of white trash.
You can keep it, Michael Roeslein, being that you got evicted from your house which obviously means you’re too poor to even pay me back.
Anyways, our current project is to make a Joseph Cornell boxes i.e.
I’m distressingly excited.
I finally found the school I’m going to in France. I’m just getting nervous because I don’t want to leave Brandon. I know the time apart will make it easier to see each other in a clearer and fresher light but the thought of not being within an arms reach or at least a twenty minutes drive is stomach churning. I’m nervous and scared and excited and contorted and young and curious and soon to be heart sick but this has been my dream my entire life and now it’s a few months away. I wish more than anything we had enough money for both of us to go.