novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- they say you become a completely different person every seven years. what about after nine? i wore the same green cardigan almost every day. i scoured the backs of independent music magazines for small labels and wrote to them requesting catalogues. i did this over a hundred times and continued to get mail from labels like sub pop, simple machines and go kart almost every single day for years. i read my first zine, cindy overnack's doris. i cut my shoulderblade-length blonde hair to my ears and turned it red. i wore out four walkmans listening to the dead kennedys, devo and the ramones, and when aunt flow delivered her monthly package i'd play pearl jam's evenflo as a kind of a sick joke. i spent summer nights awake in front of the television watching MST3K. i filled up college-rule notebooks with line drawings and bad metaphorical poetry, my proudest poem was about life as being caught in a spiderweb. i barely left the house. i read sassy magazine and took their "cute band alert" column very seriously. i drew cartoons and figure studies. my best friend was allergic to grass but ate lunch on the lawn with me everyday regardless, sitting on her sweater. i had a crush on the tallest boy in our class. he looked like an awkward bird his legs all folded up underneath the tiny desks. i'd make excuses to hug him. i read and reread poems by frank o'hara, especially an image of leda, having a coke with you and the innumerable poems he titled poem. i stopped remembering things that happened the day before and started taking very long walks with pets in tow, usually to my grandparents' house, where my grandpa would explain mathematics to me while blue jays sat on his shoulders eating peanuts from his cupped hands. i started cutting pictures out of newspapers, magazines and old books, and began pasting them onto my walls until they were covered. my parents became used to holes in articles, and would come to me requesting to see the pictures clipped, or hide the newspapers from me until well into the afternoons.i started writing to my first two pen pals. i worried over everything. 10:55 pm - 06.07.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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