i’m pretty sure this is an extremely accurate rendering of me. derek did this awhile ago when i was in my occasional manic ranting and raving mode wherein i derail every other minute on tangents.

back in the day, my mom frequently took us to the library (berryessa, what what!?) and it was always a joyous occasion. i was practically a barnacle in the young adult section, but i often wandered the other aisles too. i guess there could be a map that charts my favorite spots correspondingly with my age…

there are vivid memories of excitedly hogging the spinner racks that housed the christopher pike collection (r.l. stine was his weaker, diluted counterpart). i think this was after graduating babysitter’s club and boxcar children but before i moved onto the stephen king canon. in the classics area, i distinctly remember thinking, “wow, what a cool title!” when stumbling upon of human bondage (i never even read it).

at any rate, we all have our beloved library memories. we all know libraries are super cool places. we all know they bring us back to simpler, satisfying states of being. so why is it that that i rarely take advantage of the main library, literally next door to my work? a visit yesterday reminded me how stupid i am for neglecting this neighborhood treasure. i was rewarded handsomely: some flicks that i’ve been dying to see, and random CDs i’m eager to dig into:

anyway, i’m looking forward to the newly re-opened inner richmond branch!

Hope Germick doesn't mind me sharing this since it is his birthday present, after all. What you see here is the result of: a really shitty inconsistently dry/leaky cheap brush pen, dollar store watercolors, Google image search, and a crazed fervor to pump out a mediocre portrait as a sad gift an hour before the birthday party. I'm not pleased with it, but at least my roommate could tell it was The Purple One, and Peg said she liked it which means a lot (who cares if the birthday boy likes it!). Also, the great thing about screwing up the proportions on Prince portraits is that it's okay, because he is naturally a bobblehead. So in this case, a large head and small body work just fine. PS – the hamminess is intentional. PPS – in the original picture I couldn't find his nipples. True story!

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every morning, it’s the same routine. i wince at the prospect of getting dressed for work. why? it’s not just that my wardrobe has grown obsolete and is woefully blah. despite my usual sloppy appearance, i’m actually a pretty superficial, style-conscious person who places almost too much value on sartorial aesthetic. but i guess you could say i’ve learned to let myself go because it’s pretty discouraging to try to look presentable most of the time.

the most painful part of facing my closet is the absolute shame, dread, and crippling depression that comes with *trying* to slip on clothes that don’t fit quite like they used to. whenever i put my slacks on, it’s a ritual of disgust. i brace myself for the moment of encroaching tightness that occurs when they get past my knees and climb up my thighs. the worst part: the waistband. for every pair of pants, regardless of the cut and cloth, i naturally arch my back in a futile attempt to stretch the tummy for tautness (which is a joke on this body), suck in, and tug hard on the opposite sides of the zipper/button to overlap them.

then i look in the mirror and deceive myself into thinking they’re not *that* tight, even though my ass is shrinkwrapped in a terrifyingly self-compromising way. i try to dismiss that stifling feeling of restriction and over-snugness around my bellybutton and thighs, hoping that as the day progresses the fabric will “relax” around my muffintop.

it makes me marvel at how once, these clothes actually used to fit me well.

nowadays, i spend most of my time shifting around uncomfortably, endeavoring to overcome my slovenliness with strained confidence, sometimes unable to sit up straight at my desk because i hate the way my rolls runneth over. all while being around women whose bodies i’d die to call my own (your genes = life’s worst crapshoot).

all my clothes feel like sausage casing. and i’m the sausage.

got back from atlanta and north carolina on monday. the trip flew right by. i can’t believe it’s been more than 10 days since i’ve put up a miserable post here. i can barely keep my eyes open right now.