Thursday, May 7

art is hard

the girls i live with are doing interpretive dance, actually it's only one of them and the other is underneath the table, she is just lying under there and i don't know what she's doing but the dancing one is pointing and she looks professional. "you look professional," i say and she keeps dancing, she looks very happy but says she is going to keel over and i think about all of that fucking pasta i made. 
christy's on fire tonight, she wants to score some e, or at least that's what she said, from underneath the table, maybe i should have not mentioned her name maybe that's "sketch". i think that was a joke probably. these girls are nuts, crazy, absolutely nuts but i do love every part of them.
i tried to draw portraits of all of my friends but they kept looking like cuba gooding, jr. and colin powell. i only have one friend i can draw superbly, maybe he is perfectly angular for the way i hold my pen, i don't know.
liz is wearing a bra on her head i told her to get my comb but she hasn't, my hair is getting knottier and knottier it will turn into dreadlocks if she does not hurry soon. she has gotten my comb and now will comb my hair because i made her; she will do anything i make her.
enough of this i don't think they'd want me talking anymore, i already mentioned drugs which is bad. i skipped class today and felt gratified but also like i was wasting too much time, not just today but in general, i am always wasting time. 
i made an embarrassing decision today
somebody is going to make me coffee and i think i will drink it and not sleep tonight i think that is how i avoid wasting time, by not sleeping, etc.
i wrote something today actually i wrote it a long time ago, then a little bit two weeks ago, then a little bit the other day and today i felt it was "done" but i never know what that feels like, completely, and totally.

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