few things are like having your mom see, in the backseat of your car, the HE COMES NEXT book (with a subtle unpeeled banana on the front, papaya in the background) your old roommate sent you home with. this in itself only becomes awkward when it’s not acknowledged, like most things, and it would seem that my mom doesn’t like to acknowledge lots of things, so I said cheerfully, “did you see my book? ha ha,” and then we went inside and onto our separate computers. later in the day she stood in my doorway while I tooled around on an acoustic guitar, and she said that I am drawn to the guitar “like a duck is drawn to water,” which seems like an exaggeration. I told her her relationship with art/painting used to be duck-to-water, years ago, and she said that she can’t get inspired when she’s financially insecure, and then i said that this was too bad.
today I went for a walk and got accosted by a terrier that was about the size of a foot. I also flipped through my most current notebook and found some things I don’t remember writing or I don’t remember why I wrote them, and many of these things have times written next to them. here’s a few examples:
4:30am: abominable seahorse. drumstick=eardrum
*8/24/10 4am ish: dream premise neighborhood woman is drug dealer to parent users who won’t testify against her (obv) for molesting their children. she dismantles fire alarms for poor people in the neighborhood who can’t afford batteries (they beep constantly if they need new batteries / are hard to dismantle since they’re wired into wall). dark comedy?
2:57am: I get fuckin’ surround sound & widescreen
8/10: can’t sleep, sounds like there’s TVs all around me
9/10: go to bed hilary, the sound in your head is a lullaby from benevolent receptors who really do wish you all the best. why, thank you, benevolent receptors (and then I practice the cursive H a dozen times)
*(this dream/entry makes partial sense since there is a malfunctioning fire alarm adjacent to my bedroom door that sometimes beeps, and almost always beeps when we run the dryer)
I think/hope everybody with a notebook has things like this (minus pervasive insomnia) and these might be the most non deliberate or honest and interesting parts of notebooks. I think trading notebooks is maybe the most intimate thing you can do, and I don’t know that I’d ever do it. my favorite is abominable seahorse, which makes me think of abdominal seahorse, which makes me want to have a band called abdominal seahorse.