In the middle of the day I visited the studio and hung papers on the mirror in the order of the days of the week. The shape of which is approximately the schedule for the dance year. I used Scotch brand sticky tape. Mum came along after me and straightened them all out, fixing the overlaps I had left behind.
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But anyway. Today I had a list of things to do and I accomplished everything. First I helped Naomi make a blurb to start publicity for the play (reminder to self and Naomi: start a collection of publicity to send to the Playwrights Guild.)
Then I finished the brochure for Carlson’s. I had to write bios, which I don’t mind, but was annoyed because I don’t know the people I was writing about. I got over it though since all I really had to do was rearrange pre-gathered information.
Then I made a poster for the play. It sucks and I’ll probably start again in PhotoShop (I was trying Publisher but no.)
Then I read ten pages of Aristotle, which always takes longer than I am expecting due to re-reading and actually trying to understand what he was saying.
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This morning I woke up thinking that the word “susan” was an abbv. for the word “asparagus”.
Yesterday I woke up with a sore neck and a headache. I also knew all the lyrics to “Baby Got Back”. The wedding, I think, was fun.
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I was afraid, in the back of my head as to not seem a pessimist/jinx the affair, that it would rain today and I don’t have any significant pretty cover to go over my planned outfit for the wedding. It’s going to be sunny and hot instead, which makes sense, and I will wear a hat to prevent sunstroke.
Things around me:
“Where is she now? Where she is now”
A slim piece of paper with the lyrics to “The Perfect Drug” computer-printed on it in various shades of red. Out of the first stanza the words are highlighted out such: “I got my head unravelling control.” Puts me in mind of dada poetry which I am still Yet To Try.
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Yesterday when I went to the Moon I parked in the parking lot immediately adjacent to the building. Usually I park a little ways off, where there is lots of room, for example. I was proud of myself.
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I’ve finally thought of something interesting to do. It will be a smallish publication, the mechanics of which I borrow (pilfer) from Feebs. The first part is the title, “Little String” which is the first part that came to me. Each issue/installment will be dedicated to a single person. Reading the book one way will present all of the facts that I know about this person, perhaps in list form, perhaps in anecdotes I remember. Turning the book over and upside down will present another version of the person, one I make up in a story that I completely make up about them, perhaps based a little on what I know about them, but probably more to do with the imaginary vision I have of them (it could be that only the person I am writing about will know the truth about this!) Then, just for fun, I will bind each booklet with string. My copyright info and publication details will do in the very center, I think, so there is neither of the versions is the first one/right one.
I can do this because the laser printer beside me is working again.
I have another book on the go now, too, that I can actually put together properly because my mum just got Publisher. (Publisher WILL DO.)
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I made some art the other day. Yo!
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Lindsie: Touch the painting!
Dad: Eeeew!
Lindsie: Dad touched the painting!
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If all goes well I will finish my crocheted blanket soon. Depending on how much telly I watch tonight.
Thing is, the rows get longer the larger the blanket gets, dam’t.
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I started reading Aristotle’s “The Politics” this morning. I don’t know why and it took an hour to read 8 pages. This is all the analogy I can write for now, unfortunatly.
i'll try to be better. i promise 
