prototypes and diagnostics, art and cogitation
@1 month ago with 78 notes
I’ve been thinking about this little memory of mine a lot so I would like to write about it for you, if you don’t mind. Once upon a time, over a thousand years ago when I was in seventh grade, I really liked a boy named Daniel Luna in my English class. He wasn’t my overall middle school unrequited love, that was Aaron Smith and those are some stories for another time. So Daniel Luna was my main side piece in seventh grade year, I loved him even though he was extremely quiet and not very nice and had ugly shoes. Even my best friend Jaclyn was like girl you need to get your fucking life together this is gross, and this was coming from a girl who had a crush on a guy we literally called Hot Pants because he was “cute” (debatable) and because he wore jeans with flame decals up the side almost every single day (fact). Daniel Luna was not very nice to me but I spent a great deal of time being twelve years old and chubby and awkward, trying to work my way around that.
I’m sure this was a big thing everywhere but when I was that age, we were REALLY into writing notes to each other. My friends and I would write to each other in class, after class, stuffed notes in each other’s lockers and fists during passing period, every moment. That was the big thing. Do you remember how obnoxious your handwriting was at that age? Do you remember gel pens? I’m trying to paint a picture for you in gel pen about the UTMOST importance of communication through note writing ages 11-13. I had a friend named Shawna and one Spring break we wrote a note to each other everyday with different papers and folding and colors and when we came back to school we had a little packet of notes to exchange with each other, probably all about the same content: boys.
It was really important in my twelve year old mind to write a letter to Daniel Luna outlining some very specific things: I like you very much, these are the reasons I like you, here are some additional reasons why I think you should like me too, and in conclusion, a final list of reasons why I think we’d be a really good couple. I am over six million years old now so all I distinctly remember is poring over notebook paper on my bathroom floor writing when I was supposed to be sleeping, multiple drafts, waiting three days to even muster up the courage to give it to him, and what came after.
I’ve wasted three paragraphs leading up to telling you that the day after I gave my little note to him, I asked him what he thought! Like a dummy! And girl, what I’m about to tell you is a hundred and ten percent true, David Mamet couldn’t have even written what the twelve year old little shit said to me next. He looked me in the eye and laughed and he said, “I didn’t read that, I threw it into the toilet and pissed on it and flushed it down.”
That question about Tumblr dicks got me thinking about extremely formative moments with boys and men in my life and I’ve been thinking about this one a lot lately. “Once had love and it was a gas/soon turned out, I had a heart of glass”, Pangea breaking apart to form the Earth as we know it, stars collapsing on themselves and creating a mass of space so compact light cannot even escape it, and this moment in time when I cared 100% more than the other person ever would. I have had a thousand black holes born inside of me but this is the first one. He’s fat and he works at Sam Ash now in the guitar room because he’s a ~musician, so obviously I won, but I’m still writing a note about him today, thirteen or a thousand years later.
Just thinking about some things, where I’ve come from, how I’ve dealt with dudes and what they do.
just realized i am on my 35th handwritten journal/ diary since 1998. this does not include sketchbooks (26 since about 2000) and mini-sketchbooks made with a specific project in mind (12 since 2009). add my countless school notebooks to that pile and ugh man what am i going to do with all this paper with my handwriting on it@3 weeks ago with 4 notes