Following The Bert Through the Labyrinth
From a dream.
(Digital)
I have very warm nostalgic feelings about the two years I spent living in a 300 sq foot box while reading and writing all the time (aka pre-ABD grad school). I’m not sure why, because I’m fairly certain it was extremely stressful on a number of levels, but I did get to just… think all the time. Which I excelled at and enjoyed. If it were the 15th century, I absolutely would’ve been one of those people they walled in at the convent.
Maybe it’s because the pressure was so high that it didn't all fit properly into conscious awareness, and maybe that’s why I dream about it quite a lot. It was so long ago now and actually such a brief experience (in the scheme of a whole life) that its repetition seems odd.
The dreams now usually crumble under the force of my underlying, ever-pervasive concern for the Bert. At which point I find myself in the expanding corridors of new apartments, following along his path and calling his name while he plays, happily oblivious.
If there were ever a cure for the addiction of the glass bead game, it's a stubborn dog who revels in the now.
The Stairwell of Doom
The walls were gray when I moved in. I painted them gold, but the gold looked terrible unless sunlight was on it, which it never was because: Stairwell. Then I painted them pink; a pink I thought was berry-esque but was, when it dried, the color of the big purple dinosaur, Barney. Today I painted the goddamn stairwell AGAIN. It is now the right pink. Or if it’s not, I don’t care.
(Paint on Walls)
The above is a lie, by the way. If I wake up tomorrow and realize I hate the pink, I WILL fix it.
I just can’t help myself.
I Met a Cat
On my front stoop.
(Digital)
I brought her tuna; tried to leave some extra out for her, but the Bert stole it.
Lessons Learned
Figured out I’m allergic to psyllium husk, a common ingredient in fiber supplements and prebiotics. Often recommended to people who’ve had their gallbladder removed.
(Digital)
Good info to have. Terrible way to learn it.
Home on the Hill
From a dream.
(Ink on Paper, Digital Color)
I spent enough time studying a mental hospital that, sometimes, I dream about it. I don’t often dream that it’s my home.
On the bright side: the architecture is nice….
