Bad parking
I had started off this post writing about the adventures of swollen calf muscle, but even I got bored so I have scrapped that train of thought.
It looks like someone here in the "compound" is having an opening or a party of some sort. There's lots of cars coming in and I am getting more parked in by the minute. This parking situation is getting to be kind of a pain. This morning both Rand I were parked in by two rows of cars so a whole car moving event had to be orchestrated for us to just leave. I got home at 5:30, and as expected, most of the cars had cleared out by then. After 5 or 6 it's usually just the stragllers who work late that stick around. But then I was ready to go out and restock the barracks because we have nothing in the fridge that isn't spoiled and I see that I am parked in again. By two cars. I just checked and now it's 4. The problem is that I am to motherfuckin embarrassed (I think shy is what I really mean) to walk into that party/opening and say 'hey, I gotta move my car!'. It sucks. And it's my fault, and I know it. I feel like a poser: we are renting this awesome strudio space and I haven't made art in months. Internally, I am ok with that because my mind is elswhere, with other things. But then I can't shake that feeling that I should be making art in order to justify being here. Yes, I know that this has no bearing on the fact thatI need to get out of my parking space. But interaction is complicated.
My womanhood has me whooped today. My boobs are puffy and huge and for about an hour this morning it felt like my uterus was being wrung out like a bathing suit. My accomplishments for the day have been minimal, at best: sleep, run, sleep some more. No mention of paper writing in there you might notice. yeah. Oops.
It looks like someone here in the "compound" is having an opening or a party of some sort. There's lots of cars coming in and I am getting more parked in by the minute. This parking situation is getting to be kind of a pain. This morning both Rand I were parked in by two rows of cars so a whole car moving event had to be orchestrated for us to just leave. I got home at 5:30, and as expected, most of the cars had cleared out by then. After 5 or 6 it's usually just the stragllers who work late that stick around. But then I was ready to go out and restock the barracks because we have nothing in the fridge that isn't spoiled and I see that I am parked in again. By two cars. I just checked and now it's 4. The problem is that I am to motherfuckin embarrassed (I think shy is what I really mean) to walk into that party/opening and say 'hey, I gotta move my car!'. It sucks. And it's my fault, and I know it. I feel like a poser: we are renting this awesome strudio space and I haven't made art in months. Internally, I am ok with that because my mind is elswhere, with other things. But then I can't shake that feeling that I should be making art in order to justify being here. Yes, I know that this has no bearing on the fact thatI need to get out of my parking space. But interaction is complicated.
My womanhood has me whooped today. My boobs are puffy and huge and for about an hour this morning it felt like my uterus was being wrung out like a bathing suit. My accomplishments for the day have been minimal, at best: sleep, run, sleep some more. No mention of paper writing in there you might notice. yeah. Oops.
posted by beef at 8:24 PM
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