Gloomy Sundays

I awoke at 5am this morning, listening to the snake thrash around in its cage. Filled with stir crazy bordome. He wakes every night around 3am and thrashes untill 11am the next morning. Provided noone plays with him, which I try and do every morning for at least twenty minutes.

Laying there watching the clock tick, listening to the silence of my room and the stillness of a listless Sunday morning. The tickle noises coming from the small gap in the walls between condos informs me that it is in fact raining. I sigh reliefe. I know with the rain the photoshoot that is schedualed for the day will be canceled, and that there is now no reason to get up at the god aweful hour of 530am to start preping outfits and laying out the work space for hair and make up.

I roll back over and slip back into sleep. The easiest thing to do in the morning, is just sink back into your covers and enjoy the lagtastic pace of a quiet sunday morning. I awake a few more times still half dreaming of the photoshoot and giving myself mini heart attacks thinking I am late. Only to remember the rain has saved me and sink back into the pillow top abiss that is my mattress.

I putter around the studio entertaining the idea of sewing, but wondering exactly where it was I stopped on the projects before the pinical of my last creative binge, the lovesick fashion show. Staring into the calendar, scribbling the new deadlines for shoe lines and custom orders. Budgeting the money I have yet to make for the next few months.

I stare out into the rainy day ahead and watch the teardrop shaped drips collect on the leaves of my garden. They drop onto the ground and further saturate the dirt, my baby tears are thankfully coming back from the dead. I check the computer for any signs from you. There is nothingness staring back at me.

Looking for guidance, and some spirituality I play the buddah book turn page crap shoot and read a passage. Strangely in tune with what I am feeling, the buddah book bestows its pearls of wisdom into my brain. Living with nothing, appreciating people unto the last.

The studio still looms its disorganized head, I cant make heads or tails of my projects. Cant nail down a start today. I look to the calendar for an answer and it reads "photoshoot" back at me. I think about this shoe collection and how silly it may be, but what a concept Id like to create. The solution to my newly freed time becomes clear. The thrift store is calling.

Community thrift on the corner of Valencia and 17th, is the new Goodwill of the city. The dumping ground for mission estate sales, and hipster trustafarian kids with too many pairs of designer shoes and jackets. The perfect combination of cheap spandex and vintage polyester. Its usually not busy, and since I had already scoped it out a few days before I knew or hoped it would still be ripe for the picking.

The smell of old closets and dusty wardrobes overtakes you as you walk in the door and I am greeted by two men fighting over who is going to buy a bent fender six string. After sifting through stains and faux snakeskin boots, I settle on three pairs of shoes for my collection, some random vintage jacket find and a shirt I can turn into a spring dress for resale and book it out.

I walk in the rain, paper bag disinegrating slowly under the misting rain. Nervous about another job starting tomorrow and listening intently to my headphones. Blasting out music I try and think of something other than how far away it is you have gone, and how quickly it all took place. Wishing you were here next to me, my walnut face.

What are we now? When will I know? Do you already know? Why does life have to always throw curve balls when you don't even feel like playing a game.