How far will i go for a shot? about a block beyond creepy, it seems. like any self-respecting stalker, i was
coming from the Institute of Art cruising in my semi-rusted 1995 villager van when i spotted a powwow going on (i warn you, there will be a little big horn of sensitivity ensuing) on the sidewalk as i whizzed by. i said curse word, waited until i judged the oncoming driver was not armed to execute a six-point 180, went back a block and bombed into a driveway where i left the villager swaying and smoking slightly. which might account for her expression. or my fly was open. little of column A, little of column B probly.
what i first took to be an indian blanket-inspired coat was in fact a blanket, belted on for safe keeping. having just left the north american textiles room at the Institute, i was really seeing tribal patterns so my blood pressure was through the roof. (like when vulnerable people are shown violent images and they proceed to kill and eat their 4th grade classmates, i'm easily influenced by art -- fringe drives me to act out). the big black bag, freak flag flying, with the hair still on it? (insert primal wolf howl here).
what i first took to be cute boots were in fact Clarks.
no but really, we shared a moment of puzzlement because, isn't Clarks' motto We go great with hot flashes? i think they're cute, bordering on badass, but since my fly was open and i do have hot flashes, this only served to deepen her profound misgivings. this is the sort of thing that causes you to question everything -- lifestyle, career, colors that look good on you. color her questioning. i drove home and painted half my face red, tied a shell in my hair and made a pork roast with fennel and potatoes.