Still graceful, like a drunken swan.

My plans to turn this into a portfolio didn't go as planned because dial up ensures I can ftp a single JPEG and then travel to and from China while it uploads, and also, I got sleepy. I'm on my seven long, long, long days off now, alternating shifts by week intervals which stretches into long periods peppered with random adventures and sometimes, extreme bouts of boredom.

But, ultimately, boredom has been good for me. I've read nearly every book on my bookshelf, including ones that I've been meaning to get around to for years. I've started sewing... my handbag looks like it was stitched together, while drunk, using my teeth in place of my hands, but it's still coming along. Bust Magazine and Amy Nieto turned me on (literally) to ReproDepot vintage fabrics, and I have a huge hard on to purchase their entire fabrics library by November.

However, I can't do that quite yet because I just blew two hundred dollars online in clothes. From shoes with teeny tiny rainbows all over them, to pink and purple Alice in Wonderland knee socks to a dark brown hoodie with a giant owl patch on it, I am all over Torrid like a cheap suit. I have also been talking myself in and out of a "Same Shirt Different Day" tshirt from PalmerCash, while also considering proclaiming my love for "Getting Lucky In Kentucky" Jack Black style, and wearing it around my little village.

Last night I ran into a door. Granted, I'd had one glass of wine, but that was diluted with large amounts of 7-Up. None the less, I banged half my face against hard wood and a big bruise is currently blossoming down my face, starting at my eyebrows, which gives me suitable excuse to just not pluck for a good couple weeks, and hope that my eyebrows grow into huge bushy scary old man caterpillars sprouting out from my face. I think it, ultimately, would be really romantic. Well, at any rate. I am graceful.

Wow. I have just randomly chosen a song to listen to on the computer, and it appears to be a Kenny G cover of I Will Always Love You, which signals that I must get going... so I can sway around the house with my eyes closed, sensually playing along with my own phantom clarinet.

Labels: Sarah Land