A puppet is running for mayor in Duluth. He came to shake babies and kiss hands at the Art Attack event put on by the Duluth Art Institute a few weeks ago.
I picked up a local free paper today and saw the above campaign photograph with some rather familiar looking art.
Awesome. I think.
I might soon be living here:
It's near Wicker Park in Chicago. How soon is a product of the next 14 weeks (my last hurrah as an undergrad). I have no idea what I would do in Chicago, but I have no idea what I would do in Duluth either. Chicago seems like a more appealing place to have no idea what I am doing with my life.
It's raining outside. Or else the upstairs neighbors are peeing. A lot.
On Wednesday, August 22, 2007 I dumped Matt. On Thursday, August 23, a huge hole was discovered in the Universe. On Sunday, August 26, NPR's This American Life featured four stories about breakups.
Coincidence? I think not.
In other news, on Wednesday, August 23 I cried more than I have for over ten years. More than I cried at the funerals of two grandparents, an uncle and at my best friend's wedding. On Thursday, August 23 Matt once again slept with Amos. On Friday, August 24 I once again slept with Matt. See also Saturday, August 25 and Sunday, August 26.
There is nothing like a break up to breathe new life into a relationship.
“A break up song will never tell you to try online dating.”
My mom told my dad to try eHarmony on Sunday, August 19th, six days after their 30th wedding anniversary and seven years after they last spoke to each other. It was also the morning after my best friend Maren's wedding and I showed up a few hours late to breakfast, hung over wearing my tuxedo. That was an interesting experience. The grandparents were there too.
My parents were camping in Wisconsin on their honeymoon when Elvis died. They went to an Alice Cooper concert in Milwaukee the next day.
I hate that due to my unhealthy relationship with technology I have to wake up in the morning and see my Facebook status changed in order for reality to set it.
Then I have to go to MySpace and see his status is changed there too. I was hoping to prolong the illusion longer for some reason.
I do not know what to do with myself. At 14 months, it was 9 months longer than any previous relationship and far more meaningful. I still love him, but the summer was a struggle. Last Tuesday when things were getting better he told me he had been fooling around with a 19 year old since May. And how did he tell me this, you may ask. In bed, after a nice night out.
“Amos can't technically consider himself a virgin anymore.”
Why do you say that Matt?
“Because I fucked him today.”
I still haven't caught my breath. We had discussed opening the relationship, but never seriously. A week before with permission I fooled around with Tyler, Matt's ex, the one I met him through when I was a freshman in college. They were in an open relationship at the time with the condition that they told each other about who they were sleeping with. The day I met Matt, Ty told me he had not said anything to Matt about us. A week later, Matt and I were making out on his parent's couch. The relationship had a fucked up past to begin with, but we had long overcome the weirdness. Until I asked to hang out with his ex. He could have told me then about Amos. It might not have mattered as much then. Instead, he felt threatened and escalated the situation. Amos was a virgin.
If this entry is circular and disjointed, it's because that's how my mind has been running for the past week. I want to be with Matt still, but I can no longer trust him. I made mistakes too, and I think I made them because the relationship was unstable. Matt and I changed a lot for each other, but we hit a wall. I want to hit a wall. When I write about it, Matt sounds terrible and the situation is fucked, but when I think about it I just want to call him and say I made a mistake. I can't accept what happened. Fooling around with his ex was stupid and selfish, but him going behind my back for so long when we were on the rocks and trying to work through things is complete shit.
Warning. Extreme Bitchfest approaching.
I felt so guilty all summer for being a bad boyfriend and for being distant when I was busy trying to balance my extreme list of responsibilities with the worst work ethic ever. We got into fights this summer because I was on the phone with my mom and best friend instead of entertaining his guests. We argued over whether street art or graffiti. He yelled at me for not defending him when played devil's argument with my friends just to start a fight. He didn't come to my best friend's wedding because they got into an argument about letting his friend bum one cigarette. He never says thank you when I buy dinner. He did not say thank you when I made him a photo album of pictures of us and his friends because he was too busy reading Harry Potter. He refused to get me a band-aid when my shins were bleeding at his house because he told me what I did was a stupid idea. When I tried to give him the shirts I bought him in San Francisco, he left them behind twice. I had to physically bring them to his room and he still didn't say thank you. He told me things started with Amos because I was “distant.” I was distant because it was finals time of my senior year of college.
Augh. I still want to forget everything and be able to spend the night with him again. I guess that's normal. Before him, I barely felt I was worth three weeks of someone's time. I am insecure as it is, and he totally fucked me over by fooling around with some 19 year old who I sort of considered a friend. I feel like this is a karmic back stab for our history. He didn't say remorse. He said regret. And he didn't say I love you in the past few days when it would have made all the difference to me.
I need more time to process because I don't think it's for the better yet.
Starting when Avram Leierwood was 7, he would read the books aloud with his mother, Mina. “We’d sit in the treehouse in our backyard and take turns,” recalled Ms. Leierwood, of South Minneapolis.
But while Ms. Leierwood has remained an avid fan, Avram, now 15, is indifferent. When “Deathly Hallows” comes out, he will be on a canoe trip. As for reading, he said: “I don’t really have much time anymore. I like to hang out with my friends, talk, go watch movies and stuff, go to the park and play ultimate Frisbee.”
The design scene in Duluth is happening now.
“Postmodernism, so that's before Modernism, right?”
My show is Tuesday. I still have 0 of 10 paintings finished (though they're all… halfish). My announcement cards never came back from the printers.
Anyone wanna come over and paint?
“It is a cliche that men and women of middle class and middle age have a hard time putting aside their insurance policies and investment programs to seize the moment; but, all too often, we, too, end up exchanging present for future and experience for souvenirs. We save mementos, trophies, boxes of keepsakes, old letters, as if life can be gathered, stored up, frozen for later… for later? For when? Life is here with us now, running through us like a river; and like a river, it cannot be held in place without losing its magic. The more time we spend trying to “save it up,” the less we have to throw ourselves into it.”
