Okay, on week of Poison Oak-mandated prednisone, I have: created a psycho-masterpiece of folk-art cabinetry complete with encoded stenciled-on numbers and letters, green puffball trim, vintage decoupage ephemera galore, and a lace skirt; totally redecorated my bedroom, including finally annihilating an ill-fated experiment with a completely orange wall-and-celing paint decision after three years of half-hearted cover jobs (like sleeping in a pit of lava or the fiery depths of HELL ITSELF, and the light bounced so badly that reading was impossible, yet still, patches of orange remained, years later . . . now, its all serene and fairy-lit and a place where dreams happen, rather than where Hefty bags full of items-to-be-donated go to die;) dyed no less than five full batches of bed linens and thrifted lacy garments in vivid tertiary hues; totally did the front lawn work AND removed all items from large front porch--including thoroughly cleaning all items (such as forgotten shoes and awesome curb-found glitter-painted shoe cubby/black widow spider condo) and surrounding confines of dust, ash, cobwebs, and a small alien who, it turns out, was living behind one of the potted plants; he sped away in his astrojet (he said his work here was done and gave a friendly wave;) stayed up past three a.m.*at least* one night working with and/or for my buddy-boss jefe; WENT TO TRASH FILM ORGY and met several FB friends IRL for the first time AND got picked up on by a Barbie Doll who kept smooching me; worked for hours on $-generating stuff RIGHT AFTER TFO; slept two hours and then wandered my neighborhood making good on promises to feed/water animals/plants of dear friends; kicked out the jams; hung our 8 by 10 Muppet pelt I mean FLOKATI over the fence and gave it a thorough sudsing and hose-down (first ever? I shudder to think that may be true, and type it here with deserved embarrassment;) AND finished out my day by spending the better part of three hours performing my seventies Penthouse-photographer-style (in demeanor only) magical boudoir iPhone-ography on a favorite lens muse, Melanie Huetter, and her lady-friend, as they floated in chiffon, tulle, and little else. Run and tell your mom about THAT. Farewell, prednisone. I shall miss your kick in the pants. But I was starting to miss sleep, just a little.
Posted on: Sun, 17 Aug 2014 06:05:01 +0000
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