Gibberings
Dad told me never to use XTREE when he wasn’t in the room.
August 29, 2008 ~ 09:10:22 AM * -07:00ST
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Log # 321
How Things Continue
You know I’ve been making necklaces. Or necklace, literally. I
stumbled onto that, not really thinking of much. A friend snapped it
up instantly and I’m hearing whispers for more, more, MORE. You
crave my chains and droplets, droogs. It’s okay. I understand.
This photograph encompasses my life. It was taken at the Pub in
Berkeley, a delightfully old-fashioned, wood-tabled, saggy-chaired,
ye olde publick houfe, compleat with imported beer, pipe tobacco, and
even tea (pictured here). Being the youngest person in a room by a
standard deviation is immensely relaxing to me, as is the background
murmur, sometimes roar, of Yahtzee, philosophy, and chess (Andrei
talks shit in a Boris accent while he pushes his pieces; I love it;
when he met me he touched my wrist to his mouth and inhaled deeply,
coy and filthy and politely rapacious as only those ruski wolfmen can
be [I am looking at you, Poul]), and the soft heats from baseboard
and gas fireplace, and a sparkling baristakeep, and the old Berkeley
men in John Lennons and beards and berets, talking abstracts and
grinning. All while I crank open these jumprings and glue and pry
and clamp and fumble: making things.
