Saturday morning I had what is something of a reoccurring dream for me--I think I can fly just by jumping up in the air, and other people believe this of me too. Yet every time I actually try to do it, I can't.
After awakening, I experienced such a collage of a day that I don't even know where to begin talking about it.
I meant to work on some things but while I was eating breakfast, my five year cousin came in and commandeered the computer.
I hate kids.
So I went upstairs with a little stereo and my sketch book. I listened to William S. Burroughs whilst drawing a peculiarly fat man.
It wasn't long before my aunt asked me if I would like to go to the mall with her and her son (my 22 year old cousin).
This was a gallivanting about San Diego's most expensive clothing stores that I scarcely can remember until I found myself back at my cousin’s apartment watching Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels.
Then trisa paged me . . . and a whole new day seemed to begin.
We saw Frida, which was quite good. Visually wonderful, well incorporating Kahlo's paintings into the film.
trisa is quite wonderful.
I'm not sure what to say . . . I'm so tired . . . the day's put a lot of thoughts in my head I haven't had time or energy to sort out yet. At this precise moment though . . . all I can think about is how I'd like to draw a nude portrait of trisa.
And I would like to sleep.