April 29th, 2006

(no subject)

Drinking Dangerously.

Just because I haven't been writing anything, doesn't mean I've been sitting around on my ass eating peanut butter. In fact, I'm somewhat, mildly alright with the absence of writing I've done, because in place of it I've been working my ass off for school, trying to better my work constantly, and I think it's working. Along with this, though, I've grown more intimidated by the weeding out of crappy designers and by this the inevitability of progressively good work showing up everywhere in my classes. I'm not the only one getting better, and that's good, because not having so many stupid people in my classes all the time now helps me improve my own work, as well as have an actual desire to help improve theirs, too.

So anyway, instead of writing, I'll take the pressure off myself and just post some of the stuff I've been working on over the next few entries/days. It's a peronally painful thing to watch yourself turning vector-based files into JPEGS and watching the pixels attack all your lines, but I'm sure you guys understand the unavoidable ways of the internet. I think I have officially replaced the number 666 with the number 72.
So I'll start with our first assignment for a Pre-Print class I'm taking this quarter. I'm stoked for this class, because it's all about lythography and screen printing. This was a linoleum block printing assignment, for which we had to design a front and back label for an existing wine, and have a certain element of our design be a print that was originally carved out of lino block. Some people like this kind of look for traditional designs like those on wine labels and wedding invitations, because the organic look of a stamp is appealing. This bitch was such a pain in the ass to carve out.

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More tomorrow.

Dear Burlington,

I didn't elaborate much tonight when I said "I'm doing so shitty in the relationship world right now," because I knew you wouldn't listen. I had left you and given you no reason or obligation to listen or care, as I had moved on. Typically, I don't like to care about those things either, which is why it's such a problem for me to partake in something I never liked or was any good at. The thought of you plagues me constantly. Why are you always crowding my subconscious? Why are you here when you're all the way over there? Why are you visiting when I can't see, hear, or touch you? I didn't elaborate much tonight when I said I was doing shitty in the relationship world, because if I had, I would have ended up admitting that it was entirely because of the unshakable thought of you.

I am absent. Numb. I feel nothing but boredom and the click of the computer mouse under my palm and fingers. I write nothing because I feel no excitement for the exciting things I try to find and fail. What's wrong with me is far beyond boredom, or fear of routine. What's wrong with me is rooted down into the soil for about ten months; a seed planted when I finally, ACTUALLY met you and one that has grown into some massive embodiment of life but is still so intensely connected to its birthplace, and will be until it tears away at which point it'll shrivel and die. I feel not the sidewalks of San Francisco below my feet. I see not the people that crowd the San Francisco streets. I drink not the San Francisco beer, hear not the San Francisco sirens, smell not the San Francisco food. All I sense is you. The most feeling I have felt in months is the elevation of my mind into nothingness when I let it wander to the streets where you live. The only time I escape the numbness is when I pretend everything is you; when I pretend you are not a thought of the past but the real thing taking over the present, engulfing my world until its yours forever and I accept it with happiness. With the happiness will come my feelings again, and maybe then I will taste again, smell again, love again, lust again, think again. I didn't elaborate much when I said "I'm doing so shitty in the relationship world right now," because I would have ended up admitting that I loved you madly once, and haven't felt since.