Cuz it's written on your body --
it's on the tip of your tongue
The look in your eyes,
in the glare of the sun
The touch of your cold fingers,
when you say goodbye
The way that you linger
The way that you lie

jonatha brooke




peep peep motherfucker

Saturday April 7. 2001

with spring comes baseball

I caught a bit of a baseball game earlier today. Every year around this time I get that urge to go to a game, not because I've actually been to a lot of baseball games, but I think it's just something in the air. That smell of spring, the crack of the bat, the roar of the crowd. If my love of the Eagles and NFL reflects the masculine part of my personality, the part that wants to kick and punch and exalt in beating the shit out of the guy in front of me, then baseball is the part of me that loves the fluidity of a swing, the casual elegance of a caught fly ball, the windup tension of a pitcher about to hurl a ball. It's just so gorgeous, so many intricate movement and signals and....*sigh*.

I think it's time for me to pack myself off to Pattison for a game.

I think this last week has been the best of this semester, in both getting my work done and my general state of mental health. I just keep thinking, if Mom and Dad hadn't come down here a week ago and kicked my ass, I would've spent this entire weekend slaving away at B&N. I am so happy I quit. I am so happy that, for the fist time this year, all I'm doing is focussing on my work, and it's wonderful. I watch my bank account shrink smaller and smaller each day, but it's so worth it.

Yesterday was an open house at Tyler. Every time we have one, I am reminded of the many college tours I went on, and how fantastically boring they all were. For a day we have to pretend we're a respectable ivy-covered little college, look cute and smile for the camera, when in fact we're just a grubby little art school with dirt under our fingernails.

But anyway, I had to go into the studio to paint so when the tours came through, they'd have something to look at. And I was looking forward to an extra 3 and a half hours to work on my painting. Chuck had advised us to bring a walkman so we wouldn't be bored listening to him say the same spiel over and over to the tour groups.

Painting playlist:
The Marshall Mathers LP, Eminem
What's Going On, Marvin Gaye
Surfacing, Sarah McLachlan
Last of the Good Straight Girls, Susan Werner

I can't say for sure if any of these are "painting music", but my god, I'd forgotten how amazing What's Going On is. You can't help but groove to that album. Good vibes all around.

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One Year Ago:
"One of the windows was open, and you could hear the sounds and traffic in the street. A thin gray cat with big yellow eyes sauntered past me, and let me pet her. She looked vaguely like Charcoal, only thinner and not as friendly as he is."