The dulcet tones of Gears of War 3 on pause is playing the background. No really it's quite soothing. Like, aw, it's bedtime, or going up in a really classy non-musak elevator that leads you to some haunted desolate place of yore. Yesterday I played through a chapter where my character's BF dies. I totally started crying. It was all sorts of traumatic. The story was definitely pointing you in that direction but you just still hate to see it happen. You want them to make it. It's rough being a remnant of civilization still trying to hangon against these creatures... but you have a leering suspicion that the monster was you. It was you all along. It's a story long told- not unlike Forbidden Planet, and the Heart of Darkness-- the thing that we are fighting and the thing that is destroying us, from within and without the earth is our own creation. I also got to fight zombies- they added a twist like nuclear radiation type- that glow and explode. Good times.
It's the fall of man, and hard to be our own legislators of the good and designating what is of the bad. The game will just be silly if there's no redemption song. This whole thing makes me want to listen to Johnny Cash.
Nevermind.
Hours have past/passed. Like no longer exist. Like going by. Since this paragraph.
I'm alternating between water and coffee. It's the 2nd day in a row that i thought i'm too exhausted after THIS conversation to go to homedepot/tj's/and ralphs. Trifecta of shopping efficiency. Not that the conversations themselves were bad. But there was something taxing- like when you're fighting to articulate, to come to a common ground- to get them to see what you're saying. And they're screaming sub-text at you. I told one person about the marriage things- keep in mind she's been married for a long long time- and she was like don't get your hopes up- or something horrible to that effect after i listed #7 for her- as if i was a. making this up or reading too much into it? or b. that it could mean anything. be about anything. I was like, well, clearly it's about marriage- As you know for the record my friend on Jeju sent this to me saying she loved it so much i had to read it- without knowing about #1-6. She said she had in mind to send this to me a couple months ago- and that further kerry said i was literally 4th in bringing up the book to her within 2 weeks. I explained it was not my fault.
#5
here next to the couch is my grand-dads old navy chest. or rather army he was in- and the bottom is army green but now it's a navy chest. i dont understand. some old hiking clothes and shoes of his are in there too- and the original ship to, label.
here we are with "teal forest"... i went with the green tint over a blue tint... then i'm going to intro black stone floor, a greenish stone shower stall and possibly a twist of ? for the counter top-- uncertain. the walls will be a moss color of some kind.
ah the space to paint... literally moving each of these plants exhausted me and the roots of this one on the table were weaving through the wood planks...
still not quite clear but close.
before the powerwasher broke? uncertain-- but my what a difference.
followed by a lovely teak oil SOAK. ah luxury. this bench above is now at the parents. the long bench is under the tv.
It's the fall of man, and hard to be our own legislators of the good and designating what is of the bad. The game will just be silly if there's no redemption song. This whole thing makes me want to listen to Johnny Cash.
Nevermind.
Hours have past/passed. Like no longer exist. Like going by. Since this paragraph.
I'm alternating between water and coffee. It's the 2nd day in a row that i thought i'm too exhausted after THIS conversation to go to homedepot/tj's/and ralphs. Trifecta of shopping efficiency. Not that the conversations themselves were bad. But there was something taxing- like when you're fighting to articulate, to come to a common ground- to get them to see what you're saying. And they're screaming sub-text at you. I told one person about the marriage things- keep in mind she's been married for a long long time- and she was like don't get your hopes up- or something horrible to that effect after i listed #7 for her- as if i was a. making this up or reading too much into it? or b. that it could mean anything. be about anything. I was like, well, clearly it's about marriage- As you know for the record my friend on Jeju sent this to me saying she loved it so much i had to read it- without knowing about #1-6. She said she had in mind to send this to me a couple months ago- and that further kerry said i was literally 4th in bringing up the book to her within 2 weeks. I explained it was not my fault.
I guess i have more books to read now besides Parade's End. Which is rather bleak at the outset. Not knowing what's coming besides the war, which England was particularly heavily traumatized by, and bleak enough without illustrating the individual will struggling. And anyway, at least i have other friends whom are used to God working miraculously and are expectant, like I am, about what on earth God is up to- even if it doesn't end in me married. We're having fun over here in parts of LA about the humor and unmistakableness of SIGNS... i mean seriously. WHAT THE WHAT.
Other than that watching Thorne and Pippa just reminded me how horribly selfish i am and how i wanted to get back to my projects, though there was repeated mostly adorable behavior of these young human beings- for instance Pippa had a rough go at one point friday night, and was totally PTS about saturday night and Thorne came in exclaiming how loud she was, crying. I said, do you want to sing to her? Just as a suggest. And suddenly she started singing 'rock abye...' which by the way- totally bleak as a song- and i cut her off like a door slam and said, no sing that song you were singing all day- 'to God be the Glory- cuz every 4 1/2 year old goes around singing hymns and insisting on listening to songs that are "beautiful" like classical music!? so She starts singing and Pippa immediately stops, calms down, and within 1 minute was snoring on my shoulder. Thorne turned to leave and said, if she starts crying again, I'll come in and sing again, ok? OK.
In another letter i'll go on about the weekend blowbyblows. But for now, here are a few photos of more in progress nonsense--
oh ps #2
carryON: Note the canvas to the left and paint box ready to go, the mantel will be totally cleared, and on the right Joanna's bench, the cross mom made me that she thought was "me" and my awesome statue of st. francis.
m.
