This weekend I am spending sisterly time with my sister. She needs to buy a business suit, so I plan to dress frumpily and accompany her so salespeople will chase us out of the ritsy stores. Or maybe I will wear legwarmers and a miniskirt. HOT.
I am glad I don't live in Africa, I forget which country, but rioting masses just recently stripped like 20 women naked for wearing miniskirts or trousers in the street. they called them "slut clothes". That is pretty embarassing!!!
I wonder if my friends at Friend House will recognize me this weekend, when I go for dinner for the 4th weekend in a row. Last time, my favorite waiter made fun of me for ordering so much food the time before. BUT I WAS HUNGRY AND NEEDED LARGE QUANTITIES OF RAW SEAFOOD TO SUSTAIN MYSELF!!!!!!!!! I hope I don't get mercury poisoning.
The people fighting over money from the WTC fund strike me as being pretty greedy. It's a touchy subject and no one really wants to deny them anything, but really, if their loved ones had really good insurance policies, why should they get more money than someone whose loved one died in a train wreck or from cancer? And you know, they don't want to give the families of illegal immigrants who died ANYTHING. and they're the ones who need the money the most, probably.
I don't want to turn this diary into a faggy diary of politics. i'd rather discuss metaphysics.
i am currently trying to write a poem about the intersection (or lack thereof) of time and location, and how the mind can hold two separate timelines of two separate individuals at once. YES, FINE, OK, IT IS A LOVE POEM.
I planned to write an entry today about the time when I visited my friend in the mountains of New Hampshire. I don't remember exactly what I want to say. She lived with her boyfriend, who wore wolf sweatshirts and enjoyed hunting. To get to her house, you turned off of the main road in town by Town Hall, onto a dirt road. You passed by a dirty little general store with a torn screen door and a house with a car up on cement blocks. Her boyfriend's house was a small, two-bedroom wooden cabin right by the interstate. THere were woods around. (I visited right around when The Blair Witch Project was in theaters, and we spent a lot of time running around the woods yelling "JOOOOOSH!!!" really loudly.) My friend had a cat who lived in the bedroom, on top of the bed and on top of the dresser. Only in those places. Her boyfriend had this big black lab that would try to eat the cat if it could ever reach her. The cat got really fat. we drank a lot of that hard lemonade stuff while i was there and sometimes went to visit Georgie, the boyfriend's friend. He had some disease where he couldn't walk, and we sat in his living room watching Beavis and Butthead do America while he lay in his hospital bed nearby.
Her boyfriend's sister was this really weird girl that she had met at college. This girl had no neck and had litte pictures of Data from Star Trek that she would arrange everywhere she went. Like, if she was watching tv, she would arrange the pictures so that they would be watching over her. If she went to play basketball, she would arrange the pictures so that they would be watching her. The best was that she had this big doll thing she had made, that her brother named "Horson" (because it was part person, part horse). It had this little flocked plastic horse head that stuck out from a body she had made by stuffing a shirt and pants with other clothes. (later horson was dismantled and my friend and her boyfriend found clothes they had been missing for months inside his body.) this girl would watch tv cuddled up to horson. if you ever asked her about the weird thing she was hugging, she would just ignore you. she never talked about horson or acknowledged any questions about him. Once, my friend walked in on this girl making a guillitine in her bedroom, and that is when they made the girl move out of the house. I did not get to meet her or Horson.
i can't remember anything cool that happened to me recently!!! i am so full of neurosis!!!! i miss misha terribly!