The Not-Sow-Secret Garden Harvest is now on sale at www.theeggplantgarden.bigcartel.com! This will be available for about a month. After that, another harvest will be on sale.
Happy Harvesting!
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Slowly But Surely
Just had some pictures taken of the first harvest! Wanna model some pieces or interested in taking some pictures? Email us at TheEggplantGarden@gmail.com. The first "harvest" to be featured in the store will be The Not-Sow-Secret Garden. Check the shoppe soon!
Happy Harvesting!
Happy Harvesting!
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Saturday, February 28, 2009
What's in a mother fucking name?
Blah, blah, blog.
Yesterday I made a loom - I got the directions from a Threadbanger tutorial by Bobbiclothes. With this loom, I made a scarf and wore it all day yesterday. It's my new favorite scarf. I think I'll wear it today. Actually, I know I will, because it's wrapped around my neck right now.
Suck it with <3,
Kimberly
Yesterday I made a loom - I got the directions from a Threadbanger tutorial by Bobbiclothes. With this loom, I made a scarf and wore it all day yesterday. It's my new favorite scarf. I think I'll wear it today. Actually, I know I will, because it's wrapped around my neck right now.
Suck it with <3,
Kimberly
Saturday, February 21, 2009
I Don't Want to Talk to Anyone But You
In the past couple of weeks I've seen elderly men who, from a distance, resembled my granddad. Today I went to visit his grave. They finally put the plaque in. I saw his name, engraved, the Sacred Heart and Blessed Virgin on opposite sides. And for some reason, this made me cry.
Before, his name was in removable rubber letters on a silver name plate with the name of the funeral home on top. It was small and temporary. This was it. This is it. I guess there was, and maybe even is, a little part of me that think this is all just a joke. Or a test. Like the next time I visit his grave, his name won't be there. Instead it'll read CONGRATULATIONS. Then someone in a black suit and dark sunglasses will approach me and tell me that I've passed. I am now emotionally ready to work for a secret agency as a spy. After this, they'll tell me to go to my grandparents house, where my granddad will be sitting in his chair, watching tv.
He's the one person I want to talk to right now, and I can't.
I hate everyone a little bit today. Even when I runaway, I can't get away.
Before, his name was in removable rubber letters on a silver name plate with the name of the funeral home on top. It was small and temporary. This was it. This is it. I guess there was, and maybe even is, a little part of me that think this is all just a joke. Or a test. Like the next time I visit his grave, his name won't be there. Instead it'll read CONGRATULATIONS. Then someone in a black suit and dark sunglasses will approach me and tell me that I've passed. I am now emotionally ready to work for a secret agency as a spy. After this, they'll tell me to go to my grandparents house, where my granddad will be sitting in his chair, watching tv.
He's the one person I want to talk to right now, and I can't.
I hate everyone a little bit today. Even when I runaway, I can't get away.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
I Really Like Making Pastry Pasties, Ya'll
Well, I mean I guess I do. I made mine to look like whip cream with a cherry on top; although some people referred to my boobs in the pasties as cupcakes. Either way, I was very happy with the way they turned out. Let me rewind and start from the beginning, or at least close to it. Actually I won't start there. I'll just start with last night. Okay. Here, wait, not yet, all right, now.
Last night was the best Valentine's Day of my entire life. Seriously, no question. I didn't have a "valentine" or anything fucking aCUTEly lame like that. Nope, last night was not amazing because I had that one special person by my side. It was wonderful because there were a bunch of special people! On February 14, 2009, I danced in my first burlesque show, The Death Match of Love at Gallery 5 in Richmond, Virginia with the Modern Burlesque Brigade.
My burlesque name is Yellow Kettle, which is also the name of my crafts and jewelry stuff. I did my piece as a cooking show, to the song "All Blues" by Miles Davis. The band picked it out for me, and I was really pleased with it. It involved confetti, condoms, a fake cake, and the pasties mentioned above. Oh, and lots of licking. The premise was that I was doing the recipe, and it was a little off so I do another recipe, and that one tells me to remove my clothes, so I mix in my robe, hat, apron and garter. Before that I "accidentally" put in too much of an ingredient, and I grab some condoms and confetti from the bowl and throw it to the audience. That was a good moment for everyone, I think. Finally when my cake is ready, I smell it, and the aroma of the fresh baked love moves me to take off my dress. I rip open the snaps, except for one, turn around and remove the dress completely. I grab the cake, hiding the pasties turn around, and show the audience what we have made together. Then I go center stage and raise the cake to reveal my pasties. After that I touch my finger to the "whip cream" and give it a lick. I wink, and peace out. Hopefully a video will surface and some pictures too, and I can put them up here for all my loyal readers (me and maybe one other person) to indulge in.
I also did the introduction to the intermission. That was basically me, in a huge trench coat, with two pieces of cardboard - one (to cover my two pieces up top) read INTERMISSION and the other (to cover my lady cave) read 10 MINUTES. I came out, looked really creepy at the audience for a good long while. Then at the peek of awkward, when even I could no longer handle it, I flung open the trench and revealed the sign. Some dude ran up with his camera phone, which was kind of even more awkward.
That was hands down the best time I have ever had on stage. It was also the first time I practiced with the band. S o I really owe them a lot. Everyone was wonderful to work with, and I'm really glad I was able to be apart of it. Thanks to anyone who reads this and came out last night.
Suck it with <3,
Yellow Kettle
Last night was the best Valentine's Day of my entire life. Seriously, no question. I didn't have a "valentine" or anything fucking aCUTEly lame like that. Nope, last night was not amazing because I had that one special person by my side. It was wonderful because there were a bunch of special people! On February 14, 2009, I danced in my first burlesque show, The Death Match of Love at Gallery 5 in Richmond, Virginia with the Modern Burlesque Brigade.
My burlesque name is Yellow Kettle, which is also the name of my crafts and jewelry stuff. I did my piece as a cooking show, to the song "All Blues" by Miles Davis. The band picked it out for me, and I was really pleased with it. It involved confetti, condoms, a fake cake, and the pasties mentioned above. Oh, and lots of licking. The premise was that I was doing the recipe, and it was a little off so I do another recipe, and that one tells me to remove my clothes, so I mix in my robe, hat, apron and garter. Before that I "accidentally" put in too much of an ingredient, and I grab some condoms and confetti from the bowl and throw it to the audience. That was a good moment for everyone, I think. Finally when my cake is ready, I smell it, and the aroma of the fresh baked love moves me to take off my dress. I rip open the snaps, except for one, turn around and remove the dress completely. I grab the cake, hiding the pasties turn around, and show the audience what we have made together. Then I go center stage and raise the cake to reveal my pasties. After that I touch my finger to the "whip cream" and give it a lick. I wink, and peace out. Hopefully a video will surface and some pictures too, and I can put them up here for all my loyal readers (me and maybe one other person) to indulge in.
I also did the introduction to the intermission. That was basically me, in a huge trench coat, with two pieces of cardboard - one (to cover my two pieces up top) read INTERMISSION and the other (to cover my lady cave) read 10 MINUTES. I came out, looked really creepy at the audience for a good long while. Then at the peek of awkward, when even I could no longer handle it, I flung open the trench and revealed the sign. Some dude ran up with his camera phone, which was kind of even more awkward.
That was hands down the best time I have ever had on stage. It was also the first time I practiced with the band. S o I really owe them a lot. Everyone was wonderful to work with, and I'm really glad I was able to be apart of it. Thanks to anyone who reads this and came out last night.
Suck it with <3,
Yellow Kettle
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Car Pool Tunnel Syndrome
On the one day when I actually need a car in this tiny city, it decides not to start. Great, so now I have to ride my bike in this fuck nasty weather, manage to look unaffected by the disgustingness that mother nature put out this morning and meet with some folks to discuss a few possibilities. I wanted to look cute for this meeting, but now I'm not so sure that's an option. Seriously, I have too much work to do for tomorrow, and I'm out of my favorite treats (that I still feel kind weird in the brains from) - this couldn't happen, oh say .. . .any other time except today? AND this morning I slipped down the stairs and skinned my elbow. Today is not a very good day. I hate driving in tunnels, too. Thank goodness I don't have to do that right now!
Suck it hard w/<3,
Kim
p.s. If I would have known today was going to suck I would have saved the treats for later! Hey universe, go fuck yourself.
Suck it hard w/<3,
Kim
p.s. If I would have known today was going to suck I would have saved the treats for later! Hey universe, go fuck yourself.
Monday, January 26, 2009
21 WAS OH SO FUN
I guess I should have done this a while ago. Whatever. Who's even reading this shit? Yeah, that's what I thought. These events took place from January 16th to January 17th.
SOoooo the house show was too legit to quit. Unfortunately the house got trashed, so my roomies decided to cancel the second show scheduled for Saturday. Of course I wanted it to go on because I was in rage fest mode so hard! But I respect the decision of my roomies, and I was clearly outnumbered, so putting up a fight really wasn't worth it. I accepted my defeat. I've never had so much fun getting crazy and moshing and fucking shit up hard. Perhaps it's because I was in the comfort of my own home. I don't know.
There was a moment when beer was spilling everywhere. Shortly thereafter, I got elbowed in the nose. I couldn't tell if the liquid on my face was beer or blood. Epic. It was beer. And it got in my eyes. Not so good for contacts. Ouch.
A very kind fellow put me in the air, and I embarked on my first crowd surfing trip ever! I safely landed on my feet thanks to the wonderful and beautiful people beneath me.
The music was rad. Except for one set, which I could have done without. And I'm pretty sure most everyone else agrees. They weren't bad necessarily, just mildly annoying. I feel like that's what they were going for though, so mission accomplished.
My best friend since forever baked me a cake. I devoured it, sharing only bits and pieces because deep down inside I ain't nothin' but a fattie!
I got to meet some wonderful people and hang out more with people I didn't know too well. I was very grateful for the hang seshes because everyone was absolutely darling! And I was uber glad that some of my best friends who live not so close to me anymore could take part in the momentous occasion that was my 21st birthday.
Hmm what am I forgetting?
OH! My first alcoholic purchase: Southern Comfort.
Ummm.... the next day I went to see Notorious with some pals. I was falling asleep until the scene where Biggie and Lil Kim are fucking. The tits flying around really woke me up.
Okay, back to The Country of the Pointed Firs by Sarah Orne Jewett. A prime example of regional and social realism, apparently.
Suck it with <3,
Kimberly
SOoooo the house show was too legit to quit. Unfortunately the house got trashed, so my roomies decided to cancel the second show scheduled for Saturday. Of course I wanted it to go on because I was in rage fest mode so hard! But I respect the decision of my roomies, and I was clearly outnumbered, so putting up a fight really wasn't worth it. I accepted my defeat. I've never had so much fun getting crazy and moshing and fucking shit up hard. Perhaps it's because I was in the comfort of my own home. I don't know.
There was a moment when beer was spilling everywhere. Shortly thereafter, I got elbowed in the nose. I couldn't tell if the liquid on my face was beer or blood. Epic. It was beer. And it got in my eyes. Not so good for contacts. Ouch.
A very kind fellow put me in the air, and I embarked on my first crowd surfing trip ever! I safely landed on my feet thanks to the wonderful and beautiful people beneath me.
The music was rad. Except for one set, which I could have done without. And I'm pretty sure most everyone else agrees. They weren't bad necessarily, just mildly annoying. I feel like that's what they were going for though, so mission accomplished.
My best friend since forever baked me a cake. I devoured it, sharing only bits and pieces because deep down inside I ain't nothin' but a fattie!
I got to meet some wonderful people and hang out more with people I didn't know too well. I was very grateful for the hang seshes because everyone was absolutely darling! And I was uber glad that some of my best friends who live not so close to me anymore could take part in the momentous occasion that was my 21st birthday.
Hmm what am I forgetting?
OH! My first alcoholic purchase: Southern Comfort.
Ummm.... the next day I went to see Notorious with some pals. I was falling asleep until the scene where Biggie and Lil Kim are fucking. The tits flying around really woke me up.
Okay, back to The Country of the Pointed Firs by Sarah Orne Jewett. A prime example of regional and social realism, apparently.
Suck it with <3,
Kimberly
Monday, January 12, 2009
BEST WEEK EVER!!!
I went to a burlesque audition tonight, and it was a lot of fun!!!! Yay!!
I turn 21 on Friday! There's going to be a house show at my house with some really fantastic bands playing! I'M SO STOKED! Ahhhh! I love my friends!!!! Going to be in Richmond and want to see some swell bands and get down? Well let me know!! If you don't seem like a stalker, I'll tell ya where the party's at!!
If you don't come, you should click these and enjoy:
broccoli destroyer
michael jordan
lessons
There's another band, grocery thief, but I don't think they have a site yet.
Okay, I must depart to continue a hang sesh with my pals. I've been staring at this screen for too long now. Pieces.
Suck it with <3,
Kim
I turn 21 on Friday! There's going to be a house show at my house with some really fantastic bands playing! I'M SO STOKED! Ahhhh! I love my friends!!!! Going to be in Richmond and want to see some swell bands and get down? Well let me know!! If you don't seem like a stalker, I'll tell ya where the party's at!!
If you don't come, you should click these and enjoy:
broccoli destroyer
michael jordan
lessons
There's another band, grocery thief, but I don't think they have a site yet.
Okay, I must depart to continue a hang sesh with my pals. I've been staring at this screen for too long now. Pieces.
Suck it with <3,
Kim
Thursday, January 8, 2009
yo-ga-wd
A couple of days ago my grandmother informed me that people who do yoga are crazy. I told her I used to do yoga three times a week, and she looked at me with ill regard and disbelief. She thinks it's sinning.
Today, my best friend told me that her niece, a four-year-old who does yoga at her pre-school, said she was getting fat.
Perhaps people who do yoga are crazy. Or maybe it's just the babies who are crazy. I should consult my new baby book. When I have kids should I expect to have a bunch of crazies running around, worrying about their baby fat when they're still babies? I guess I'll consult the book before I get too worried about this. I wonder if there's a chapter about how to adjust to the expansion of the now gaping hole/vagina, if you could still call it that, between a new mother's legs. I think that scares me more than raising a child. Am I crazy?
Today, my best friend told me that her niece, a four-year-old who does yoga at her pre-school, said she was getting fat.
Perhaps people who do yoga are crazy. Or maybe it's just the babies who are crazy. I should consult my new baby book. When I have kids should I expect to have a bunch of crazies running around, worrying about their baby fat when they're still babies? I guess I'll consult the book before I get too worried about this. I wonder if there's a chapter about how to adjust to the expansion of the now gaping hole/vagina, if you could still call it that, between a new mother's legs. I think that scares me more than raising a child. Am I crazy?
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
things i shouldn't do when high
Blog posts.
In other news, my dad got me an early birthday present.... .. ladies and gentlemen, I now own my very own drill! Naturally he also got me a set of bits and assorted attachments. I am so stoked that now I can build things! I reckon my first project is going to be a loft for my place in Richmond. Oh boy, the butch in me is so excited! jkjk You don't have to be a butch in order to be a girl who like to build things, although I have heard it helps.
The wisdom teeth are out, obviously, seeing as how my brother egged me on in my state of slight sedation to write that last post. Anyway, it feels funny, sometimes bad. The blood has mostly stopped, but I still taste it once in a while. I think I might buy some baby food, which is kind of funny because my good friend, Myron got me the book What to Expect When You're Expecting for Christmas. No, I'm not pregnant, but accidents happen, right? That's how I got here. Although I do want kids someday, hopefully none of this is foreshadowing anything to come too soon, but I guess if I do end up with an unwanted spawn I can use the other present he gave me: a little bottle of yellow pills called Happy Pills (because life sucks). Oh, some people know me so well.
Blah, blah, blog.
Suck it with <3,
- Kim
In other news, my dad got me an early birthday present.... .. ladies and gentlemen, I now own my very own drill! Naturally he also got me a set of bits and assorted attachments. I am so stoked that now I can build things! I reckon my first project is going to be a loft for my place in Richmond. Oh boy, the butch in me is so excited! jkjk You don't have to be a butch in order to be a girl who like to build things, although I have heard it helps.
The wisdom teeth are out, obviously, seeing as how my brother egged me on in my state of slight sedation to write that last post. Anyway, it feels funny, sometimes bad. The blood has mostly stopped, but I still taste it once in a while. I think I might buy some baby food, which is kind of funny because my good friend, Myron got me the book What to Expect When You're Expecting for Christmas. No, I'm not pregnant, but accidents happen, right? That's how I got here. Although I do want kids someday, hopefully none of this is foreshadowing anything to come too soon, but I guess if I do end up with an unwanted spawn I can use the other present he gave me: a little bottle of yellow pills called Happy Pills (because life sucks). Oh, some people know me so well.
Blah, blah, blog.
Suck it with <3,
- Kim
Monday, December 29, 2008
if i wanted to talk to you this is what i might say
Here's another rant:
Don't talk to me. Don't tell me about your life plans, and don't ask me about mine. I thought that by now I'd be hearing something new from you, but no. You're still full of the same old shit from before. And that's fine - in a sense it's some form of stability. I can depend on you being so completely full of shit. You don't surprise me anymore. You tell me the same stories that I still don't care about. For someone who doesn't say anything worth hearing, you sure do talk a lot. But really, I'm glad that you finally "got your life together" for what the sixth time now? I've stopped counting.
Don't act like we have anything to say to one another. Time and time again I find out things you lied to me about. So don't be surprised when I want nothing to do with you. You're words are worthless. Don't ask me questions about this great life that I'm living, because I love it, and the last thing I want is for it to be tainted by the likes of you. You don't get to know who I am anymore.
P.S. Fuck you. And that's what I would say if I wanted to talk. My brothers won't talk you, either, you may not be able to talk after seeing them. They told me they didn't like you, and considering one of them has never met you, that says a lot.
That's right, folks, I just vented on my blog, and now I feel a lot better. But it might be because of drugs.
Don't talk to me. Don't tell me about your life plans, and don't ask me about mine. I thought that by now I'd be hearing something new from you, but no. You're still full of the same old shit from before. And that's fine - in a sense it's some form of stability. I can depend on you being so completely full of shit. You don't surprise me anymore. You tell me the same stories that I still don't care about. For someone who doesn't say anything worth hearing, you sure do talk a lot. But really, I'm glad that you finally "got your life together" for what the sixth time now? I've stopped counting.
Don't act like we have anything to say to one another. Time and time again I find out things you lied to me about. So don't be surprised when I want nothing to do with you. You're words are worthless. Don't ask me questions about this great life that I'm living, because I love it, and the last thing I want is for it to be tainted by the likes of you. You don't get to know who I am anymore.
P.S. Fuck you. And that's what I would say if I wanted to talk. My brothers won't talk you, either, you may not be able to talk after seeing them. They told me they didn't like you, and considering one of them has never met you, that says a lot.
That's right, folks, I just vented on my blog, and now I feel a lot better. But it might be because of drugs.
store ease
I've been spending lots of time with my grandma since she got laid off and I came home for winter. She's 76, so honestly, I was surprised that she was hired at all. Over the summer she was looking for work, and I remember her telling me that she had to fill out a certain number of applications in order to collect unemployment. She told me that she asked for an application at Wet Seal, but they told her that they were waiting for the "kids" to apply. One day my cousin and I went to Target and saw her standing alone in the parking lot. We asked her what she was doing, and she said that she and a friend went to look for jobs. Her friend had dropped her off at the Farm Fresh next door, and she was waiting for my uncle to pick her up. My cousin and I stayed with her till he came. This kind of broke my heart.
Anyone who knows me knows that in October I lost my granddad, my grandma's husband. This is also part of the reason I've been spending so much time with her. No one wants her to be alone, not even her. She told me she hates being alone and just cries all the time because all she does is think of my granddad. They were married for fifty-five years, and knew each other for maybe more than sixty; I'm not sure. When she is alone, though, she said she keeps it quiet and calls for him, begging him to talk to her. Since he passed away, some things have happened at their house that make us all think he's still there. I'm okay with it. I wish I was around when they happened. I wish I was around when everything happened.
She remembers the dates to every important event in her life. She's been telling me stories about everything. About how my granddad was a good man and did anything to help anyone. About how my great-grandmother didn't like him at first, but eventually took to him as her own son. About his heart attack twenty-some years ago and how it should have killed him. She showed me his coin collection, his states' information collection, and told me that he loved history - something I never knew.
The last time I was at her house, she could tell I was getting tired. She asked if I wanted to sleep in my granddad's chair. It was his chair, the one where he would always be sitting anytime I came over. He did everything in that chair, sat, watched tv, ate, slept, everything until Hospice gave him a hospital bed. I never got to see this, and part of me is glad. I had been wanting to sit in that chair for some time. I hadn't sat in it since we held prayers for him days after his funeral, two months ago.
Three weeks after he died, my brother called me from California telling me that our other granddad passed away. I felt like everything I was feeling had to be put on hold, because now here was this thing, this thing that had just happened to us. There were things to be done; it was all very methodical. I didn't get to go to the funeral. Tickets were to expensive for me to say good bye in person.
During a recent visit to my psychologist, he asked me about how I was dealing with everything. I explained that when I'm in school in Richmond, surrounded by things that have no connection to him it is easy to deal, repress, I didn't know which one. As soon as I felt like I was feeling something, I tried to think about something else. I tried to keep it all on pause. I told him that I knew that one day I would just cry and cry, and it was just something I had to do, but I didn't know when that would occur. An hour, a year.
When I sat in his chair, my grandma put a blanket over me and went upstairs to put away her laundry that we had just finished. I set it to recline, just as my granddad did many times before. I closed my eyes, began to cry, and fell asleep.
Un-pause.
Anyone who knows me knows that in October I lost my granddad, my grandma's husband. This is also part of the reason I've been spending so much time with her. No one wants her to be alone, not even her. She told me she hates being alone and just cries all the time because all she does is think of my granddad. They were married for fifty-five years, and knew each other for maybe more than sixty; I'm not sure. When she is alone, though, she said she keeps it quiet and calls for him, begging him to talk to her. Since he passed away, some things have happened at their house that make us all think he's still there. I'm okay with it. I wish I was around when they happened. I wish I was around when everything happened.
She remembers the dates to every important event in her life. She's been telling me stories about everything. About how my granddad was a good man and did anything to help anyone. About how my great-grandmother didn't like him at first, but eventually took to him as her own son. About his heart attack twenty-some years ago and how it should have killed him. She showed me his coin collection, his states' information collection, and told me that he loved history - something I never knew.
The last time I was at her house, she could tell I was getting tired. She asked if I wanted to sleep in my granddad's chair. It was his chair, the one where he would always be sitting anytime I came over. He did everything in that chair, sat, watched tv, ate, slept, everything until Hospice gave him a hospital bed. I never got to see this, and part of me is glad. I had been wanting to sit in that chair for some time. I hadn't sat in it since we held prayers for him days after his funeral, two months ago.
Three weeks after he died, my brother called me from California telling me that our other granddad passed away. I felt like everything I was feeling had to be put on hold, because now here was this thing, this thing that had just happened to us. There were things to be done; it was all very methodical. I didn't get to go to the funeral. Tickets were to expensive for me to say good bye in person.
During a recent visit to my psychologist, he asked me about how I was dealing with everything. I explained that when I'm in school in Richmond, surrounded by things that have no connection to him it is easy to deal, repress, I didn't know which one. As soon as I felt like I was feeling something, I tried to think about something else. I tried to keep it all on pause. I told him that I knew that one day I would just cry and cry, and it was just something I had to do, but I didn't know when that would occur. An hour, a year.
When I sat in his chair, my grandma put a blanket over me and went upstairs to put away her laundry that we had just finished. I set it to recline, just as my granddad did many times before. I closed my eyes, began to cry, and fell asleep.
Un-pause.
dream weaver (a reprise)
Lately I've been having dreams where people (not even people I know personally) surprise me in wonderful ways. One was with someone who I have seen less than a handful of times and have only spoken to twice...but if he asked me to marry him I'd probably say yes.
I was living in a darling city, sitting in a charming park. He walked out of a cafe to the left of the bench I was sitting on. I thought he saw me, but he didn't stop to say anything. Maybe he didn't see me. The last time we saw each other he told me I looked familiar (true story). So dream-me, which is essentially awake-me with probably less inhibition, assumed that if he ever saw me again he would say something. He continued walking about, and I continued hoping he would see me. Eventually he was out of sight.
Later, I was with friends laughing at something she said or something he did. I can't recall, but I specifically remember deciding not to tell anyone that I saw him. My phone rang, and a number I didn't recognize appeared. Wrong number, most likely. But I started to get nervous. I didn't want to answer it. I just wanted to know who was calling this, my number. I hit the green button, scrunched my brows and said, "Hello?"
"Kimberly."
"Yes?"
"It's [his name]. You never called."
"I didn't have your number."
"Yeah, I know, that's why I got yours." ...
And so on and so forth, we had a lovely conversation about nothing serious and made plans to hang out. It was all so very cute. Another dream I had was rather short and simple. Nothing with too much detail really sticks out in my mind. I was upset about something, and this person who I have met once or twice, and have only heard good things about, made me feel immensely better about the situation that I cannot seem to remember. They were very kind and caring for being mere acquaintances.
Maybe my dreams are telling me that I am hopeful. That's pretty broad, but maybe that's how it is. Maybe I'm hopeful about love, about human nature, about everything. Maybe I'm not as cynical as I, or anyone else thought... Then again, maybe these are just dreams because they'll never happen in real life so I have to fulfill this unsatisfied part of my thought process somewhere, so why not while I'm alone and unconscious?
I was living in a darling city, sitting in a charming park. He walked out of a cafe to the left of the bench I was sitting on. I thought he saw me, but he didn't stop to say anything. Maybe he didn't see me. The last time we saw each other he told me I looked familiar (true story). So dream-me, which is essentially awake-me with probably less inhibition, assumed that if he ever saw me again he would say something. He continued walking about, and I continued hoping he would see me. Eventually he was out of sight.
Later, I was with friends laughing at something she said or something he did. I can't recall, but I specifically remember deciding not to tell anyone that I saw him. My phone rang, and a number I didn't recognize appeared. Wrong number, most likely. But I started to get nervous. I didn't want to answer it. I just wanted to know who was calling this, my number. I hit the green button, scrunched my brows and said, "Hello?"
"Kimberly."
"Yes?"
"It's [his name]. You never called."
"I didn't have your number."
"Yeah, I know, that's why I got yours." ...
And so on and so forth, we had a lovely conversation about nothing serious and made plans to hang out. It was all so very cute. Another dream I had was rather short and simple. Nothing with too much detail really sticks out in my mind. I was upset about something, and this person who I have met once or twice, and have only heard good things about, made me feel immensely better about the situation that I cannot seem to remember. They were very kind and caring for being mere acquaintances.
Maybe my dreams are telling me that I am hopeful. That's pretty broad, but maybe that's how it is. Maybe I'm hopeful about love, about human nature, about everything. Maybe I'm not as cynical as I, or anyone else thought... Then again, maybe these are just dreams because they'll never happen in real life so I have to fulfill this unsatisfied part of my thought process somewhere, so why not while I'm alone and unconscious?
Saturday, December 13, 2008
You can't keep us out.
Cemetery.
Pyramid climbing. Fuck the Confederacy. Don't log roll.
Old Gym.
Exploring. Saw horses fucking. Sup. Hi!
Oh, adventures.
Pyramid climbing. Fuck the Confederacy. Don't log roll.
Old Gym.
Exploring. Saw horses fucking. Sup. Hi!
Oh, adventures.
Friday, December 12, 2008
no means no
I said no to going to New York.
I'm going to the beach to hang ten with my family.
My teeth still hurt, but I got some Vicodin for that. I'm a lucky girl.
Last night was fun. Yes. Yes, it was. So was the night before last. I love staying up till morning and talking. It's so very fun.
I like playing music even though about 89% of the time I don't know what the fuck I'm doing.
I miss my family lots, but I'll see them soon.
I have to finish my poetry portfolio, so as soon as that's done I'll post some of that shit on here.
I'm hungry. Bye.
I'm going to the beach to hang ten with my family.
My teeth still hurt, but I got some Vicodin for that. I'm a lucky girl.
Last night was fun. Yes. Yes, it was. So was the night before last. I love staying up till morning and talking. It's so very fun.
I like playing music even though about 89% of the time I don't know what the fuck I'm doing.
I miss my family lots, but I'll see them soon.
I have to finish my poetry portfolio, so as soon as that's done I'll post some of that shit on here.
I'm hungry. Bye.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
clash
Should I stay in Richmond for the weekend or go to New York?
Is that even a question?
In other news (this is where I write things that I wish I had the balls to say to people):
Ummm seriously, WHAT THE FUCK? You always talk about how you're so mature and shit, yet you do some pretty irresponsible things. I would care less if those things you did didn't affect me. Unfortunately, when you fuck up, I get fucked. I kind of hope you fall on your face and see how full of shit you are sometimes. Scratch that. I really hope you do. You're not always such a suckfest, but right now, I want to punch you in the throat a little.
This more than annoys me. Fuck you, dipshit.
Is that even a question?
In other news (this is where I write things that I wish I had the balls to say to people):
Ummm seriously, WHAT THE FUCK? You always talk about how you're so mature and shit, yet you do some pretty irresponsible things. I would care less if those things you did didn't affect me. Unfortunately, when you fuck up, I get fucked. I kind of hope you fall on your face and see how full of shit you are sometimes. Scratch that. I really hope you do. You're not always such a suckfest, but right now, I want to punch you in the throat a little.
This more than annoys me. Fuck you, dipshit.
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