Diary 03

06.27.20

Composing a life; the harvest of learning and thinking and observing
navel gazing: being introspective, self-reflective

06.28.20

A teal maraca from Aria, small as a baby’s rattle. Hand painted I assume. Some of the lines are crooked. Cactus on either side, red and green triangles, black bordering lines.

06.29.20

The faucet in my bathtub drips incessantly. Sometimes rhythmically, others sporadic. I have a white noise playlist on right now and coupled with the drips it sounds like how you would experience a torrential rainstorm from indoors. Opaque showers that just sound fuzzy with the windows closed, a leak in the roof with a bucket underneath.

06.30.20

I had another dream about inner tubing? I know I’ve had them before. The whipping of the tube when the boat makes a sharp turn, carrying the line with it, forcing the tube to travel horizontally bouncing and skimming across the surface of the water. I’m always clutching the tube, always end up in the water.

07.01.20

My first semester of college, I languidly took the L. I’d get off at random stops and roam, dressed in clothes that didn’t fit the midwinter temperatures. There was one spot that I can’t remember the name of, but I think it was off the orange line? that I frequented for awhile because of a thrift store a few blocks down the street. And off of this walk to the store there was a hill with a staggering view of Chicago.

Eventually, I just started getting off at this stop for the hill. I’d blare music in my headphones and sprint to the top. Sometimes I’d go to cry, others to scream, or to meditate. There was one night where I went & sobbed at the moon. Midwinter negatives, sitting on a big rock that bore the cold. I sat with my emotions and mused over the city skyline, perfectly stitched into my peripheral view; Start to end. Left to right. The city was always teeming with life it seemed, and to behold it from that spot, that hill, disconnected from the energy but still apart of the audience, was humbling. A lot of searching in random places freshman year.

07.02.30

Felt awfully unwelcome at a vintage shop I visited today. I’d been there before but typically avoid it. They always make their customers feel small, fed on the hierarchy their parents are probably still prey to. Everything has to be exclusive in southern California.
Followed that trip to an antique market. Sellers booths cluttered with oddities, tools, books, clothing, etc. Messy rooms that opened their arms to me just in the way they took up space.

07.03.20

I met a black cat this morning with lemon-colored eyes. A solid yellow that flashed me as I walked. It was several feet in front of me, and as I went towards it it would turn again and keep our distance. In tandem with my pace. Unconsciously I talked and cooed to it. My dear friend.