Just me. (lara7) wrote,
Just me.
lara7

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how I spent my weekend/morbidity

Friday: Slept too much. I mean it. Got home from work after running errands, went to bed at 9pm, slept until the next morning. Felt like a slug, but needed to catch up on sleep.

Saturday: worked on the artcar, in vain attempt to get it in a completed state by this friday when I take in to the east coast for an artcar event. we'll see how much I get done in the next few days. hopefully the weather will hold up. That night, lemur and I watched "the Abominable Dr. Phibes" on video, which was the inspiration for the nom-de-web of our pal AV phibes and (I'm guessing) the loose inspiration for the movie "Seven" (no relation). It was enjoyable but what is up with that green makeup on the cover art that appears nowhere in the film?

Sunday: more sleep, more artcar work. was actually told "You go, girl" by carload of passing sassy ladies. Made halfhearted attmept to catch up on email (hahaha) and fooled around too long on Stripcreator.com. Saw Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, which had some funny parts but was on the whole a bit too self-referential: "Oh, you noticed which of my previous films this is a reference to - aren't you as clever for noticing as I am for doing it?" Had entirely too many scenes with the orangutan; monkeys are generally a sign of a weak script and thus should serve as a warning to the prospective moviegoer. My dream boyfriend Jon Stewart is in it briefly, but it looked like they'd done something weird to his hands.

other events this weekend: worried about the cat's weight loss and constant hunger; called vet, are assuming it's parasites caught from bat dinner (see previous LJ entry on bat-eating) and will treat accordingly. Cleaned out all those envelopes full of white powder she's been getting in the mail from the Klingerman foundation. Also removed all fashion photos of Kate Moss she had pasted in the kitchen.

also this weekend: Ruminated on death, love and forgiveness, mostly in abstract ways. Thought about the people who are most important to me and wondered how you tell people stuff like that without freaking them out, sounding sappy, or making them think you want to marry them. Thought about people I'm estranged from; wondered if it's worth trying to patch things up or best to write off past (aka path of least resistance). Tried to analyze fact that I keep having dreams where I'm actually speaking civilly to my scummy ex; wondered if this is a sign of something. Hard to imagine any situation where I'd have much to say to him; even if I get to the point where I have no appreciable anger, I still can't imagine being pals ever again.

Thought about the war and predicted future terrorism; got paranoid about not having a will; thought that might be a good idea if I don't want my mother to charge in and give all my vinyl to the thrift stores should something happen to me suddenly. If you want dibs on something material, lemme know now. Money and valuables go to my parents of course, but somehow I'm guessing they won't think of my tiki collection and gallery of big eyed paintings as valuable, or even desirable.

Consequences of death (besides the obvious):
Who will feed my pets? Will the authorities realize I've left behind 2 orphans before their next dinner time?
And perhaps more important:
Who will hide my embarrasing stuff/porn/email archives from my grieving family?

If you have a partner or roommates, this is not such a concern, but someone has to have a key and hide whatever you don't want your family members to see when they come to box up all your stuff. Oddly enough, this is something I seem to think about every time I start living alone; "Who will hide my sensitive materials from my mom should I die before she does?" It may seem silly to worry about that, but I figure if I go before my mom, the shock of losing her only child will be bad enough; this dutiful daughter will try to spare her the added shock of finding out stuff she won't want to remember me by. and frankly, I hope she does the same for me; if there are naked polaroids or sex toys in my mom's personal effects, I don't wanna find them while looking for the safe deposit box keys.

There's a good "not my mom, but certainly true of yours" joke to be made there, but I'm feeling too somber to toss out blanket insults all of a sudden.
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