Too busy to be creative.

Yesterday was delightful.

I am back to school for the first time since the strike ended. Back to reading Derrida, Auster, Lacan, Freud, Barthes, Eliot, Waugh, Ishiguro, Ellis, Lovecraft, Acker.

I survived, heavily medicated, practically floating around campus.

I also modeled for the salon yesterday. Wardrobe was skinny jeans with suspenders, bare feet and a nude lingerie top with huge, ridiculous amounts of fabric swirling around our bodies and attached in strangely creative ways. Makeup was heavily pink and girly. So I was dancing around the salon with a huge fabric bow pinned to my boobs, covered in [moderately subtle] body glitter, eating as much free food as possible, sneaking out for cigarettes and trying to explain my tattoo to the other girls. It was surprisingly fun. And I was familiar with the photographer so I felt comfortable. The runway was covered with daisies and floating candles. The theme was spring. I don't do girly well. But I do miss spring.

I'm kind of obsessed with the film Breakfast at Tiffany's right now. I've watched it several times over the past week. I really dig the final scene. I'm a sucker for romance.

This quote is super dope (cheesy, yes.):

"You're chicken. You're afraid to say, 'Okay, life's a fact.' People do fall in love. People do belong to each other. Because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness. You call yourself a free spirit, a wild thing, yet you're terrified that somebody's gonna put you in a cage. Well, you're already in a cage and you built it yourself. It's everywhere you go. Because no matter where you run, you're always going to end up running into yourself."

-Sexy dude who falls in love with Holly right before he jumps out the cab to look for her cat and then she runs after him and they kiss in the rain. I think there is much truth to this. Sometimes cliches are good. Good for the soul.

1 comment:

  1. i haven't read any far-out secondary literature on auster, who is one of my fave writers. can you recommend anything?