tavie.com

Oh, baby, no one wastes time like I do. This is definitely the biggest waste of time I've ever come across. I am exhausted. I am so tired I can't believe my eyes are open. But rather than sleep, I am opting to lay on my back on the couch with a cat on my chest and a laptop on my pelvis and sing along to the various Stephen Sondheim songs I am continually downloading from Limewire. I don't understand what it was/ but mama, the things that he does/ they twinkle and glitter and buzz-- right now listening to a fairly horrible jazz version of "Color and Light" that I'm too lazy to delete from my playlist--

Oh, but I have to record these moments. I'll be interested, in my thirties, to know how I wasted my twenties. This record will be an invaluable source of depression. It will aid in my therapy, perhaps.

I think it would be fun to play Mama Rose in an imaginary production of Gypsy, but I don't think I can muster the mental energy to prepare myself for the imaginary role. And Ethel I ain't. Bette, either, although, god, I'd really like to be. Kirsten's Bette. When my sister was eleven she did the most fantastic Bette Midler impression you ever saw.

Today-- last night-- in art class, the girl next to me praised my gesture drawing of the naked Mr Clean and it made me feel so good and so embarrassed when she asked me what I was going to do with "it", meaning, I guess, my ability to make a praiseworthy gesture drawing?

Opened up my eyes taught me how to see notice every tree understand the light concentrate on now I want to move on I want to explore the light I want to know how to get through through to something new something of my own MOVE ON MOVE ON.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:21 AM | shower me with attention