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About

This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

thank you very much for coming this evening, we'll come back real soon...
I was at the store today, waiting for the mail people to find my mail and packages. I was standing next to the little tiny movie section that happened to have that movie about Bob Dylan. Several different actors posing as Dylan. It gave me goosebumps. And if I didn't have to be at work at an insane hour tomorrow morning, I would have rented. I am almost certain that no one around here will rent it, which will make it easier to buy in a few weeks. Sad. But delicious, too.

'Delicious' might be my new favourite word this week. Like the fruit salad I plan on eating for dinner. Or the movie that I plan on watching whilst eating that fruit salad. For some reason since coming up here, I just want green things, and fruit. Any kind of fruit. I'd even eat mangos and I don't particularly care for mangos. Too stringy.

Things around here have dried to a fine dust that clings to everything. I track in mud that dries into little explodeable clots of dirt. My jeans are dragging in the mud when I walk from here and there because they are too big and I don't have a belt. I should buy higher shoes. But I'll probably look for better fitting jeans in London when I take my little vacation in two weeks. It seems to be all I'm looking forward to, right now.

That, and Arctic Cotton. It's a flower that looks like a tufty cotton ball on a stick that grows around here. I'm looking forward to lying face down on the permafrost and taking pictures. permafrost. I wonder if the ground will be cold.

gravity keeps my hair down..or is it maybe shame? Being so young and being so....vain
I gave up counting my grey hairs and resigned myself to colouring my hair for the rest of my life. I like variety. I was red for most of the year last year. Then black for this year. I spend more time moisturizing than doing my hair. I feel that if I don't then I might dry up, and be like a crackling little leaf in my bed. Just shards of a formerly lusciously green leaf that once fluttered from a tree.

Anyhow. Fruit salad time.

If You Tolerate This - David Usher

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