Sofia Jannok "Irene"

Vivaldi - Cello Sonata in E Minor RV40 - Mov. 1-2/4

Come Again, Sweet Love- sung by Camille

Lovely voice,between the two I'd rather listen to the kid with the guitar. Still young and a little talented and not a stupid cowardly gangster is all it takes to make me happy tonight.

last class spring 2010

Last class tonight, Mike slapped my shoulder, goodbye I guess. Not a word to me all this semester then I get the 6 and a half footer slap on the back. WTF? Well at least he doesn't flirt,a bruise is fun. Snezana was so tired, she said she said didn't want to talk to anyone, and talked to everyone. We did some gesture drawing and one long pose and it was over. So very sad. I was always exhausted going and intense during and exhilarated after. It helped to forget everything for those three hours, pains and pleasures, everything gone. Is that why? I know I need to practice,I know I've improved,and I see how far I have to go. Maybe that's the reason I feel sad. Listening to all those young confident creatives, alive, full of the future is sad in a way too. I have so little future and even less past compared to their lives. Probably it's just this fucking depression getting to me. And next week I'm cleaning house. If I get some more exercise it will go away. I know that but I am so lazy and obsessed with this internet.

hard to leave

Such a soft evening. Couples get into cars, they are talking, listening to each other. They smell like they expect interesting companionship,love. It's cool enough that a sweater is almost too warm but an arm around each other is just right. It's a great evening for conversation on the plaza patios over coffee. The sky is brilliant turquoise, the golden streaks in the clouds a memory now. How soft and perfect. That's what I imagine for them.
I can't possibly imagine their house needs cleaning or there is an old lady who asks the same question for the 500th time today. I'm sure they have their work done and in their briefcases for the morning. Their homework is not still sitting at the bottom of a book pile. No worries about the cholesterol levels in the creamer. Or the stuffy stinky apartment with the rotting bathroom walls, or the piles of bills unpaid or the old lady who asks for the 507 time since I started writing the same damn question.
I feel badly about breaking down today and coming online to do some reading, but I have to get away from reality sometimes. Back to work tomorrow. Thrills for all.