July 27, 25:18.
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I work best when I have the space to explore questions from different angles, to bounce ideas off of different people in different settings, to grow into my work and change the way I think. This is how it feels to read a 1,000 page book in one week, digesting it until it has become an integrated, living aspect of the world I experience everyday. I have been on a harsh voyage, I struggle with money, job insecurity, patchwork healthcare and hostile agents of the state every day. My depression is a rational reaction to the obstacles I encounter; when enemy fire is thick in the air, do you not keep your head down and scan for a pit? But I have become more resilient, I have learned subtle lessons and practiced until understanding bloomed its electric rhizomes under my skin.
This week I’ve built a shrine to keep my exegesis notebooks, lit by a warm little ghost light. Above, i the surface of my altar, with incense, candles, flowers, and mirrors. To the left, two stacked milkcrates open to me: my satchel and its contents have their landing pad in the top floor, (some of) the books I’m currently reading, even if only plucking at random passages to hear what their notes sound like in the air. Buttercup, my partner’s cat, uses both the top of the shrine and the crates as stairsteps to the overhead storage area to my left, making her brooding keep above my coat-rac among the luggage and snowcamping-grade sleeping bag. To the right, there is a five-level ikea shelf which always reminds me of a pagoda, containing: more books, a power strip, rolls of paper for notes, art projects, medication, and until recently two sacred baskets, but the smaller of these migrated to my book shelf after ~Sunday night’s big re-organization, which saw the lion’s share of my library come down to my bed, my whole table shift about a foot and a half to the right, lamps change places, wardrobe malfunction, and one or two existential crises collide with this haphazard juggling act. Past the bookshelf and also above the cat’s landing pad, my walls have bloomed new paintings, which now that I think about it I should probably put some pictures up on the website!
My partner recently taught me a technique to make acrylic maintain its luster as it dries. I’ve only been painting even semi-regularly since we began to see each other 13 months ago, on account of him letting me borrow his set of brushes and paints. He’s such an incredibly generous person, so eager to help his friends make art. The painting I did for him is one of my favorites, I should hang it up for him soon so we can both enjoy it.
Above my art, my ceremonial bo staff is suspended partially behind a red lantern bought at a second-hand shop before I even came to college, but somehow I’ve managed to suspend it from almost every roof I’ve lived under since. I’ve stated hanging notes I write myself on recipe paper among my paintings and posters and a pendant from the USSR my friend gave me, Cyrilic in peeling gold leaf below a bronze bust of Lenin looking upon industrial agricultural equptment in bright, space age socialist realistic style. I’m much more partial to Soviet propaganda then I am the liberal-nationalistic blare and bunting one sees at court buildings and political party conventions and the decorations bin for the 4th of July.
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I need to write a cover letter. I’m not sure what it should say. It needs to be generic, express a certain requisite level of attentiveness and domicility, and present an overall positive impression of myself. I was thinking I should also emphasize why I would be a good fit for remote work, though I’m not actually sure I would be, but I don’t want to keep risking sickness when my job heavily penalizes absence for sickness. I also need more money; as it stands I can’t come close to making rent without plunging myself into financial catastrophe every month.
I’m going to try using a web formater.
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I wrote a cover letter and I also applied to like 20 jobs!