untitled

just like all the modern art in the MET that chase misenheimer hates this post is going to be called untitled.
because i can.
today was a weird day. want to know why? well here we go.
i woke up too earlly today and decided to look like a lumberjack and wear a plaid shirt and not wash my hair and roll up my shorts and go into manhattan for practice. during rehearsal i just spent the time talking to my partner and becoming more of a listener. we didn't really do much rehearsal. we just talked. about life. and then i felt myself getting older because i was sitting across the room from her and begging her to come out of her shell and let other people see her for who she is because she's awesome and intense and quirky and smartass on the inside but she doesn't let anyone see that. and i felt like my mom because i felt myself saying things, giving advice that my mom would give--which isn't bad. it just made me realize that i'm growing up.

i came back home and lint-rolled my carpet. yes. lint-rolled. the entire floor. i don't have a vacuum so i spent my time tearing off strips of a scotch lint-roller that my mom sent me in the mail for some reason and i thought it was worthless--apparently not. bo knox should be very happy that he won't have to sleep on a carpet that has become a reservation for tiny hair ball clusters. when i spent over an hour lint-rolling i noticed that the world is much different when you put yourself in a position to look at things from a different perspective, even when it's just the corners of a room or the pieces of frosted flakes in your carpet. it's like a whole different world and things stick out that you would've never known if you hadn't put yourself in a position to see them. then i thought how crazy my neighbors across the way looking in through my window would think i was if they saw me spending an hour on my hands and knees lint-rolling my carpet. they probably think i'm like Monk or something.

i went on a walk today and just kept on walking. past atlantic. past lover's lane. past montague street. past churches and houses and shops and blocks and trees and subway stations. i found myself at a smoothie store no bigger than a cubbyhole where i had visited during my first few weeks here. smoothies here are expensive and not nearly as good and icy as smoothie king. here they're just organic. i saw an old couple holding hands and wanted to take a picture of them but i was afraid the click of my camera would be heard and they would turn around and demand that i destroy my film. i don't know why. i also saw a pile of clothes and high heels discarded and disheveled by a doorway and i wanted to take a picture but i was embarassed. imagine that. embarassed to take a picture. yes, but moreso embarrassed to look like a tourist. the only picture i took of was a feather, very stealthily on the way home.

i regretted walking the 15 blocks to i don't know where. but i liked exploring. i need to have an explorers club where we all take pictures and have bikes with spokes and baskets and have homeade maps with X's to bury treasure in old crevices of abandoned buildings or under stoops of old lady's buildings off the corner of court street. i need to be a part of something, something big and full of love and abandon. i need to join a pack of adventurers. let me know if you see any looking for new members.