[personal profile] aerodrome1
I thought that the taste of the future would be Crystal Diet Pepsi. We were all of us betrayed by the '90s.

I could've ordered Chinese takee-outee tonight, but I just didn't have the energy. That's a sad thing--- Eduardo-kun is too tired even to order and eat Mongolian beef or beef-fried rice. Very sad indeed.

I did stand out on the upper deck with a shot of Stoli and watch the sky turn red and orange. There is that.

Now I did come home and do laundry. I need to follow Jill's advice and wash bath towels and face cloths on a two or three day cycle, and not on the usual Sad Bachelor Cycle. I also disposed of a number of older towels and washcloths. Pare it all down, Jill tells me. And she's right. She always is.

I need to get N. at [personal profile] radiokvetch's take on closet inventories, too. How many sets of sheets, how many towels does N. think you should have if you're living alone? Advice is always welcome, darlings. And I need to get N.'s take on capsule summertime wardrobes, too. And her own latest Escape Wardrobe Packing List.

When I got home, I took a small table I'd brought when I moved in and just carried it to the dumpster. Let's make floor space here. Let's have room to move. Let's have space the way Jill at [profile] pacific_lolita has at her house in Thorndon. I'll do more purging soon--- opening up space, getting rid of objects that are dust traps (but never the stufflings, never the Little Guys!). And I'll throw out more and more papers and stacks of stationery I'll never use. I do have to go through my closet--- and through the Rubbermaid tubs filled with shirts and trousers still in plastic.

Jill is right, of course. Decluttering is addictive. You begin to get a rush from the act of purging your past, from the sense of escaping the weight of the past. Walking through a decluttered, newly minimalist flat has a feeling of weightlessness.

So much to do here--- clothes to donate at charity boxes, things to throw out. I just want so much to have space to walk in, to pace through. I want to thing that I could just throw things into a single bag and fly away. I want to be able to just walk away from things and into new rooms and new lives. I just don't know if I have Jill's courage. Or the courage of N. at [personal profile] radiokvetch. Walking away from things terrifies me.

N. at [personal profile] radiokvetch has been experimenting with facial masks ("sheet masks"?)--- the facial regimen kind, not the "Eyes Wide Shut" kind. I should probably take advice from her on this. N. has been a key advisor in my quest to hang on to the shreds of any appearance of youth and attractiveness. Skin care and facial regimens are...key things. Advice from N. at [personal profile] radiokvetch and Jill at [profile] pacific_lolita matters a lot.

I have my new L.L. Bean cotton blanket. It does feel lovely. It's cream with blue stripes, and it's light enough for all-season use in the Deepest South. I'll need that. Tonight may be the last night 'til mid-October when I can sleep with the windows open. Tomorrow will be the first air-con day of the Year Seventeen. Well, we almost made it 'til May. I'll be turning the a/c on tomorrow and dealing with temperatures in the upper 80s F. Jill tells me that houses in Wellington have heat pumps but not air-con. I'm not sure at all about the difference. Nonetheless, this is the Deepest South, and I'm looking at six months with the a/c on.

The L.L. Bean blanket, now--- yes, it's a lovely thing. And I wish Jill at [profile] pacific_lolita or N. at [personal profile] radiokvetch would be stretched out on it tonight, reading to me. Well, yes, naked. Was that ever a question? How else should any beautiful girl sleep, especially here in Eduardo-kun's flat? The real question is what Jill or N. would be reading to me. That's always a key issue. Poetry? Prose? Their diaries? What's the proper drink for each genre?

I suppose I should've ordered food. Or stopped off for pizza on my way home. But I just...didn't. Anyway...maybe I'll do something tomorrow. It's just hard to persuade myself to either cook or spend money for food most evenings. I'd rather just walk by the river and dream about maritime escapes...or stand on the upper deck and drink and think about the violet hour, about the hour entre chien et loup. Though...Katelyn's restaurant has kim chi buns and lamb lollipops as bar food in the evenings now. That is worth considering. I've always been a fan of kim chi. I just wish I could get dim sum or pork buns downtown.

There was a meme thing around this morning that urged you to create an indie band name out of Your Favourite Fruit + The Reason You Last Took Painkillers. My answer was Mango + Crushed By The Weight Of A Hopeless Existence. Works for me as an indie band name. And it explains why I'll end up eating my final meal at Arby's and swigging from a flask filled with cheap rye whiskey while I dip my curly fries in the Horsey Sauce.



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