159. Kabir, Kabir, don’t fret my dear.

01Apr09

My mother’s dog is named Kabir. It was C’mere at first. It’s all she would respond to. But over the course of a day it went from C’mere to Kabir, and the latter stuck.

Tech is over and done. I didn’t think I’d cry, but eh. We were all teary. I stopped as soon as I had a drill in my hand and unlimited frustrations to work out on a dying set. Titanic has sunk, the senior will sob, and technically my life is once again my own. Technically. The truth is, I’ll be throwing myself into work.

  • Sketchbook for Black and White photo, sketchbook for Draw/Paint
  • Fill a roll of film
  • Learn the French Rilke song.
  • Beloved Journals
  • Clean room later in the week

I got accepted into Goucher, so I stopped giving a flying monkeybutt about school. I’m still reading Beloved because I’m in the strange mental landscape in which it makes perfect sense, although it’ll fade by the time the test comes around. I still abhor Heart of Darkness with a large portion of my being, although Hammie is convinced that, should I watch Apocolypse Now, this too shall pass.

I read one of my stories aloud in a small teahouse setting. Go me! (yes, tea. WALLS of it.)

Vagina Monologues went beautifully. No protesters showed up! Woo! I managed to wear a skirt and my stupid-tall plaid heels, because I’m that awesome. I have lots of chocolate vagina candy to show off now. Afterwards was pizza things and Robin Hood and weird comfortable possitions and bubbly, Mimi got a cake she never ate and we ended up eating it (and dinner) days later as I tried a photoshoot*. The dog likes spaghetti. Everyone but me seems to have a problem with one another. My soul-sister is the most amazingly tolerant friend ever. Unrelated: why do people keep asking me about vibbbbrators? Also, I now have a steady ride to werk, which leaves enough time for me to get to the Old World cafe. (Home of amazing soups, sammichs and BRIE plate)

*None of my people – photos ended up developing, damnit. Oh. And, they tried to kick me out of my fabulous (vagina) study hall, and we basically went around, publicly announced our intentions to stay there, and worked out a deal with the teacher who we had been transferred to, in the smelly cafeteria.
The weather has finally become mild enought to leave my window open. I almost cried when I heard the crows, breathed the misty green as I woke up. My room feels right again

Braindump say whut?

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One Response to “159. Kabir, Kabir, don’t fret my dear.”

  1. 1 rachel

    oh hey. goucher is near where I am! one of my friends’ boyfriend lives right by it, and they have been up to who-knows-what in the woods there…

    so anyways. yeah. go life!


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