wwii
reflecting on a past that needs to be locked up to maintain (social) order: release the past, pretend that what once was will never be and long for the change that will never come.
i wish we still had dance invitations like this
shoe maker, thomas rowe.
lochee rail.
more amusement.
amusement.
hands day one
hands day one
nearly vomit when alarm goes off. haven’t been up that early ever. when i’m coming home from partying i get in later. get to work, eat some food cause i prolly should. actually vomit, much to early for my tummy to be functioning.
the job is in a wealthy area, i look through a window at children eating organic cereal from whole foods while a skinny mum wipes down countertops with 7th generation spray.
upperclass sensibilities are a bit predictable. the heavily styled family; young hip healthy forward thinking slot. where is the energy, vitality, frenetic life? no shabby couches and corn-pops here, no peanut butter brown bags. no pushing little ones out the door without their vitamins cause someone is gonna be late for work and goddamn, the field trip money! don’t get paid till thursday can’t be helped.
i have to stop staring in windows and work harder because i’m not strong. i didn’t think much of the effect the withdrawal would have on my body other than the obvious. but 20 days mostly vertical, no working out, little eating, little sleep, and a mind full of wolves has left me in weak shape.
boss- oh, you have work pants, thats great. they carhartt?
me- uh no, acne. just styled with knee patches.
boss- your skin looks fine to me. and what about your keys?
keeping busy, old ukraine ladies can make you want to cross-stitch.
