This Was Started in May
The only path I have memorized is the one out of town. When I know how to get around I'll know it's time to move on.
The contents of my life are as such:
2% wigs
10% costume clothing
20% shoes I don't wear
15% notebooks with 5 pages written on
5% canvases
3% old textbooks
65% things that any reasonable person would objectively call garbage
9% not knowing how percentages work
Life is a constant struggle of trying to determine how much ignorance I can play off as humor and the answer is typically not as much as I would like to.
It's weird packing up my own life for part of the week then assessing and packing someone else's life.
My sister has left some things in the house that she has vacated that I will be taking over. Last weekend I bought paint and I returned to find the walls pleasant shades of blue. This week I pulled over even more of the non-essential-but-clean items in my apartment. This included the kitten. She did not enjoy the ride, but she didn't shit and puke all over her carrier, just in one spot, so I think it was a success. I suppose the fact that she is alive is what makes it a success. She is alive and exploring her new territory which is possibly 3 times larger than the studio I've been living in for the last 2 years. I bet I could find the exact dimensions of both properties online. I will have to do that when I am around the internet. (This is being written in Houston, where internet does not exist.)
In putting away the remnants of my sister's time here as I set my own into motion, I am becoming reacquainted with her by proxy. Thumbing through her books, counting her paint bottles and canvases, re-purposing her furniture. She has books on all the languages I want to learn, and I know she speaks them a little better, but not fluently. It's a sharp reminder that I spent a lot of my life emulating the parts of her I loved best. She is the biggest reason I was vegetarian for a few years. Staying up late with her on the weekends and watching Saturday Night Live is probably the biggest reason I love comedy. She's always been witty with an absurdist streak. She's aged into something more theatrical. I wonder how much of myself is directly cloned from her influence.
I should start doing a drag show as her.
*************************
The time is now. The other time was previous.
We're here. In October 2018. I've been living in the house for 4 months. I have returned or stolen a lot of my sister's books. Parts of her drum set. She's planning to learn to play. Again I am reminded that we are basically the same. I'm like some bizarro alternate universe version that managed to slip through to provide an idea of what she'd be like if she were more sad than angry and never had my nephew.
I would feel better about my comedic prowess if I were able to better imitate the people I know. They're such characters. I can't even do a good Trump impression...and he's such a caricature everyone has a Trump impression.
The contents of my life are as such:
2% wigs
10% costume clothing
20% shoes I don't wear
15% notebooks with 5 pages written on
5% canvases
3% old textbooks
65% things that any reasonable person would objectively call garbage
9% not knowing how percentages work
Life is a constant struggle of trying to determine how much ignorance I can play off as humor and the answer is typically not as much as I would like to.
It's weird packing up my own life for part of the week then assessing and packing someone else's life.
My sister has left some things in the house that she has vacated that I will be taking over. Last weekend I bought paint and I returned to find the walls pleasant shades of blue. This week I pulled over even more of the non-essential-but-clean items in my apartment. This included the kitten. She did not enjoy the ride, but she didn't shit and puke all over her carrier, just in one spot, so I think it was a success. I suppose the fact that she is alive is what makes it a success. She is alive and exploring her new territory which is possibly 3 times larger than the studio I've been living in for the last 2 years. I bet I could find the exact dimensions of both properties online. I will have to do that when I am around the internet. (This is being written in Houston, where internet does not exist.)
In putting away the remnants of my sister's time here as I set my own into motion, I am becoming reacquainted with her by proxy. Thumbing through her books, counting her paint bottles and canvases, re-purposing her furniture. She has books on all the languages I want to learn, and I know she speaks them a little better, but not fluently. It's a sharp reminder that I spent a lot of my life emulating the parts of her I loved best. She is the biggest reason I was vegetarian for a few years. Staying up late with her on the weekends and watching Saturday Night Live is probably the biggest reason I love comedy. She's always been witty with an absurdist streak. She's aged into something more theatrical. I wonder how much of myself is directly cloned from her influence.
I should start doing a drag show as her.
*************************
The time is now. The other time was previous.
We're here. In October 2018. I've been living in the house for 4 months. I have returned or stolen a lot of my sister's books. Parts of her drum set. She's planning to learn to play. Again I am reminded that we are basically the same. I'm like some bizarro alternate universe version that managed to slip through to provide an idea of what she'd be like if she were more sad than angry and never had my nephew.
I would feel better about my comedic prowess if I were able to better imitate the people I know. They're such characters. I can't even do a good Trump impression...and he's such a caricature everyone has a Trump impression.
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