‘inside the forest under the moonlight’ by caspar david friedrich
this is in the alte nationalgalerie in berlin and i am going to go see it as soon as i’m back in town
i’m replaying XENOGEARS for the first time since like middle school and it rules
my Cool New Friend (CNF) calvin
(a few lines up we were discussing urinals lol)
man . . . i’m starting to think i have a severe vitamin D deficiency. if my hero GRITT CALHOON were here, he’d say i look paler than a ghost’s dick in a paper factory. i’m always pale but this seems worse! i experienced this once before when i lived in portland, and it made me feel really bad. maybe i ought to do something about it. as i recall, taking supplements back in portland did help. well, OK then, i’ll buy some of the damn stuff and see what happens . . .
this is something that is not helping: i have zero curiosity about oakland anymore, and so i’ve stopped bothering with it. i have black-out curtains on every window in my house, and i never go out during the day. i think i see the sun maybe an hour total a week, mostly after 7 pm, when i sigh theatrically and leave my apartment to go get groceries. and even then, i’m dusted to the eyeballs in SPF 50, and booking it to get to traitor joe’s . . . so it’s likely i’m getting essentially zero sunlight?? They Say fair-skinned people are five or six times more efficient at making vitamin D from UVB rays than people living on the equator, and i believe it. even still, i think i’m being absolutely wrecked by a severe lack of the stuff
ANYWAY: yeah. i’m writing a little baby post about hanging out with my buds in oakland and LA, and there are pictures of me, and you’ll see how pallid i have become. oops!
emma seemingly has an endless supply of dante (the poet) stamps and memorabilia!!!
ok well, look . . . i was wiped out all weekend, but i’m still writing up a little thing about my friends. also, for god’s sake, it has been such a bummer to be back here in oakland. i wish i were in some creepy little town in the middle of fucking nowhere with them, is what i’m saying!
tell you WHAT
i’m gonna wake up in a few hours and shotgun a french press full of black coffee and write a little story about how this bag ended up in my kitchen
what else am i gonna do with myself? lie down and die???
I got a haircut. It’s the exact same haircut I’ve gotten my entire life, only now I’ve got a lady in Berkeley who does it perfectly every time. I’ve been going to her for three years . . . I found her because I was heading up to Portland to finally meet The Pink-Haired Girl, and I wanted to look like a guy who actually paid for a haircut. I wanted to impress her, is what I’m saying.
See, I’d been cutting my own hair up until that point for like five years and it was not great. I never mastered layering and the whole process is so boring and time-consuming that I’d get lazy midway through and just wing it. It looked FINE but it weren’t no masterpiece.
Now I sit down in the chair and Lisa Anne just gives me The Ryan. I don’t even have to tell her!
Anyway: Lisa Anne rules. She always tells me about her acid trips and relationship woes and vegan bodybuilding techniques and gut flora maintenance. I love it.
OK good-night~ ☆彡
(P.S. I took this picture for A Girl, saying that I had just shaved my beard off for her, and I think she kind of believed me. I of course cannot grow a beard, and even if I could it would look weird and gross (lol).)