bad bad ting
Today I went to Bainbridge island and wrote and sketched and read and wrote and sunbathed. My life is so damn hard. At Bainbridge Island, this older dude with a septum piercing and an eye patch started talking to me….we ended up hanging out on the beach for an hour and a half.
his ex wife used to work for Sandra Day O’Connor (who, incidentally, is also a friend of my family), he had a penchant for reciting shakespeare and melville and,….he was once, by trade, a touring sound engineer for The Meat Puppets. He told me about how he likes to write Shakespearian facebook statuses. He told me about how much money airforce cadets make. He really enjoys Romanian music. He is in love with Fairuza Balk (best known for her role in The Craft). He told me, “CHEER UP SAD LADY. You are young! It is supposed to hurt!” “I’d rather hang out with a sober cannibal than a drunken christian” (this last bite is a quote from Moby Dick).
Among these things, he taught me about felching. What felching is is too explicit even for this here blogalog, so I’ll refrain from explanation.
ARR YE DIRTY FELCHER! DON’T COME ‘ROUND HERE NO MORE!
in other, other news, Last night I hid my cellphone from myself after I took a sleeping pill (but before it had fully kicked in) and now I can’t find it. Which is probably a good thing. 24 hours of disconnect will be good for me.
in other other other other news, I did a bad bad ting! I bought shoes! 70% off, BUT STILL!!
strawberry surgery dress. mom sweater.
vivienne westwood for somebody via asos (who I shouldn’t be supporting right now for design theft reasons, but ef it, I ordered the shoes before I knew about this)
life. hour by hour.