high rollin:
the cadillac of cardboard boxes
this woman's home on wheels was so expertly made that peeping through the crack of the padded padlocked door revealed an interior of walls lined with various sizes of cubby holes made from layers of paper, plastic, and tape, displaying an astounding amount of carefully organized personal items among which included a small radio and a deck of playing cards. she pointed out the small ventilation spaces protected by chicken wire that weren't big enough to be called "windows" but were numerous enough to allow air to circulate and provide sight from the inside out, but cleverly still small enough to make it very difficult to see from the outside in. i wish i'd taken more photos - she was more than happy to explain its construction to me - but somehow i got too caught up in the conversation that i ended up only taking these three shots so you'll just have to use your own little brain to imagine the rest for yourself - specifically how awesome the other side was and how detailed and organized it was inside. i also really dug her haircut and friar garb.
[retroactively posted: Aug. 22nd, 2006 at 11:36 pm, note: she at least on that day was living in santa monica. as were the subjects of the other photos also.]
fucking morning birds chirping already dammit. sleepless pain, more like painful sleeplessness and i was just about to take a bedtime make me sleepy bath. i don't need some well-meaning morning bath to wake me up. the sun shining on the bath water and all that and then cue the traffic noises, people noises, dogs barking, a certain dog who's happily asleep in my arms while i type this will instead be jumping on my head for food and walking and no. goodnight. nothing like some evening angst to make you stay up all night ouching on the internet. grumble-sigh. hey, one more day till friday working people. you're almost there. now go somewhere good like here. goodnight again. hey, can someone please tell me if you can see my itsy iconish photos in the sidebar (a brilliant button given to me by the pants (which she FOUND no less, didn't make - i didn't either, so what brilliant totally unrelated soul did? i often wonder), a "fuck war" shirted girl i met in NYC just after 9/11 and some other little pictures? they're in my html but not on the page = impossible. thanks. goodnight again (again). ahh some car just started up outside. goodBYE. also, this blog would have been murdered months ago if it wasn't for a boy named blayne (he's an adult, but alliteration is funner) so thank you to blayne. i was letting it die slowly by the tried and trusted method of ignoring it and not posting and i may still murder it yet, but not quite this yet at least. no comments on that part please, this is not a fishing for compliments threat it's just a shout out to an encouraging friend. goodbye again.
