After many failed starts with the blogging thing, I'm gonna go ahead and try again. I've tried to make it work on various websites but it typically turns out feeling dumb and useless. Anyways, I'll do it here and the only association it will have is ME. Not "art" or "depression" or "quarter-life crisis", but yeah those things will come up and I'll try to keep the venting, whining, moaning, and groaning to a minimum.

So right now I feel like sharing what I did today:

For the last couple of days, I've been typical me, sitting around the house feeling absolutely pitiful. Yesterday, or maybe the day before that, I went out to buy a pack of cigarettes and saw a sign for a church booksale. So today I ventured out and around the corner to this really old church where I remember going to aerobics classes with my mom when she was a total hottie. Hottee hotty. whatever.

The creapiest people were there. They were all up in my face about all the goodies (fudge, gross) they had for sale. One of the "volunteer"-shirted ladies was my kindergarten teacher I hadn't seen in years. I think my reluctance to look her in the eye made her a little sad. I'm SO SO Sorry Miss Kemp (was that her name? Or was that my seventh grade math teacher, the one with the cancerous growth on her nose?) The only other shopper was a 30ish guy in mismatched clothes, no less than 6'9", with painted red nails. The guy looked like he might have had his shit together at one time. He was buddy buddy with the church folk and I guess this meant he was probably a regular at the AA/NA meetings they hold there. No biggie. When I see people like this, in the suburbs, who aren't visibly mentally ill (ok, retarded), who aren't even fat or ugly or crippled, I seriously worry about my own future. In the end I was able to fill a shopping bag of books for 2 buckaroons (that's a mix b/w the pirate and my favorite cookie, macaroons, which they DID not have for goodies at the church book sale).

They had a bunch of brand new Marquez books, which I snatched up to either read or sell. Also got some self-help books, and a neat philosophy text book from the seventies with an awesome, crusty old syllabus typed up and creased between pages 70 and 71. I buy way too many philosophy books, maybe because I just wanted to be the type that reads them. Who effing knows. Good self-help books on the other hand (no, not to be confused with philosophy which generally destroys and discourages me) I've been secretly wanting to get a hold of but for one or another reason, I've been reluctant.

I've been reluctant to do a lot of things.....

INCLUDING THE ARBITRARY PAINTING OF ROCKS AND STACKING OF THUS PAINTED ROCKS.

Not sure what prompted me to do it but I really like the look of things that you know are supposed to have all these different shades but have been to reduced to ONE. Like spraypainted furniture or painted faces (like, hmm, the blue man group) or food covered in gravy or the silver surfer guy. Monochrome. Chromedome. I guess I was probably inspired to do it myself by some photos I saw a while ago, most likely on designformankind.com or ffffound. Playing with the rocks reminded me of this lovely time I had with my nephew Toby when we destroyed all these beautiful hippie rock towers in a creek at a festival last summer. So I made towers and a hangy thing (at the top of the post). And it felt friggen great. I would actually love to have a rock painting/arranging cookout or something. It's great summer fun, I'd say!