a more stable update

December 24, 2002 at 6:59 pm Leave a comment

Stories:
Tried waltzing with J. on Saturday, you have to out your feet down this way or something she says.
We lumber around, never quite getting it right. Here I’ll lead she says, but then stops and sez
it doesn’t feel right. You need to get a mat she says.
J’s father plays old-time music and one of his musical companions has a daughter. she greets me at the door,
50 degrees or less and she has one of those flora print shirts with one button buttoned. EVerything is hanging out of her, stomach, breasts,
etc. later i run into her in the bathroom taking a shot, which is hopefully insilin to deal with the sugar
of eggnog etc.
Drive up to Birmingham cruizing through Atlanta listen’n to Roots Manuva, go through new Squarepusher again and find track 4 have a similar micro-funk to Venetian Snare’s Dance like your selling nails. Try to find record shop Rhett
knows about, think of calling Amanda, but Atlanta is big, it’s 1 a.m. and by the time I get to B’Ham I’ll be
like 5 a.m.
Several calls during the day, interupted while talking to S. twice I think, talk to Dave, Darren calls, Dave G. (who were thinking of moving in with) is having one of his THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT moments. DAve’s big on drama. I neglect to call him back.
Getting to B’Ham my mom wants to talk and we sit around for awhile and chat. I look at pictures on the wall and see my smiling confident face coming back at me till around wehn get to my Brother’s graduation photo – I had at that point developed some type of
anti-camera nervous tick and I give a large gay smile. My life makes more sense. I’m adjusting, in some strange way, to being who I am more of the time. As Dylan put it, “We are who we pretend to be.” Extra levels of shy this holiday season, as my mind does flips and flips over issues I thought I’d dealt with a long time ago.
My mom wants to open her big box tonight even though she won’t say anything. Mischeviously she complains she doesn’t know when to open gifts, “why don’t we open them tonight?” She announces as if delaying some unspoken command of her sub-conscious. No one else really cares. Our holiday whims long ago repressed to a nice night of sleep and lesser levels of greed. She has to know what’s in that box, and I’m sure when we get back from Church tonight, with or with out our insistence, she’ll be tearing at the gift wrap and staring into the thought that finds form in electronics and plastic: something she needs. And no, it’s not the idildo Rhett. Oh yeah I also fixed my mom’s computer. Might be going to my Dad’s sooner than expected.

Happy Holidays Folks,
Andrew

Entry filed under: media.

complex update – memphis

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