Que (que1000101) wrote,
Que
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Dana The Artist/Memorial Day Weekend

On Friday, Dana's Mom had emailed me pictures of drawings that Dana had done several months before she died because she wants me to have some or all of them. She was such a talented artist. I remember when we lived together, sometimes she would get in the mood and spend hours in her own little world, sketching in her pad, stopping only every once in awhile to look over to me, show me the pad and ask, "What do you think of this?". She was such a great artist, but was always so critical of herself. She mostly drew women and clothes, and she loved Bettie Page. I still remember her drawing a picture of Bettie Page from a book she had on her, and she spent so much time on it, every little detail she tried to make perfect. She was always about the details. I remember one night, we both had been drinking 40's all night and I knocked on her door with my bag of paints. She was sketching something out and I asked her if she wanted to come with me to throw some pieces up on this clean wall near the tracks. She said sure because after watching Style Wars she was interested in trying so we stopped off at Walmart first, I snagged the paints and she was in charge of getting caps. She was so funny, she must have taken the cap off of every can in this one aisle, and then she found me in the other aisle, came up to me all secretly, looking around in case anyone was looking and showed me the handful of assorted caps. i giggled and told her they were all fem, so we couldn't use them. So she grinned and was like, "Dammit, Adam! You know...DETAILS...like this would have been helpful PRIOR to me desecrating every friggen can of starch on the shelf!", then dropped the handful of caps right in the middle of the aisle and walked away giggling and fake mad. We did a few pieces near the tracks later on that night, although she kept trying to rework and detail her piece so much, she stopped after awhile and said she was done and it sucked ass and grafitti sucks ass and I suck ass and the guy behind the counter at the gas station sucks ass, etc.. We laughed for awhile and she said she was going to stick to paper. I thought she did an excellent job for her first time with spray paint, but she didn't agree. She always told me she would love to be a fashion designer, and one time we even spent a better part of a day making plans to move up to New York, where I would get a programming job at some stiff corporation making assloads of money to support us during the day, and at night I'd play gigs with my death metal band, and she would go to FIT and become a famous designer. Big dreams for two lovers who spent their days digging around the room for change so they could split a 99 cent chicken sandwich from Checkers, spent their evenings working at the same dull, minimum-wage data entry job, and their early mornings coming home, adjusting the aluminum foil and coat hanger antenna attached to the small tv on the chair, and laying in bed watching the same dating shows and making fun of the people on them, as well as all the commercials in between, until we fell asleep in each other's arms. Now I just dream of being back there...
Friday night, Mike came over and we had a few beers and went over some of the songs were doing, then went out to the bar and got looted. One of his friends came by to hang out for a bit, his friend's kidneys aren't working correctly and he needs to get a transplant within the next few years or else he'll die. Such a sad story. His friend seemed very upbeat though and positive about the whole ordeal. He had a couple of cokes while Mike and I got hammered, we all talked for awhile, his friend left, we had a few more drinks then I went home.
Saturday, I went up to New York and I was supposed to hang out on the island with Jackie, but last minute she cancelled so I called up some friends, noone was really around so I was going to just go down to the village or uptown and grab some drinks, but then my partner in crime called me unexpectedly and we ended up hanging out and having a few drinks and playing quarters. We hung out the next night as well, went to some bar around Hell's Kitchen and had a few drinks, then watched Aqua Teen Hunger Force and laughed like idiots. Even though I was in a blah mood, I still had a wonderful time.
On Sunday, I took my Mom down to Coney Island where we got some hot dogs, went for a walk on the boardwalk, played some skee ball and then hit the shooting gallery for a bit. We walked around for awhile, got ice cream cones (mmm...soft-serve pistachio....) and then took the train back. We had a really good time.
Last night, I took the train back to DC, and got home to find out that my bathroom was flooded, guess theres a leak in the faucet that turns the toilet water on. The water had spread outside of the bathroom and gotten underneath the wood floor, which is now warped and buckled in the area between the bathroom and my bedroom. So I spent most of the night cleaning and drying the floor, and then put a bucket underneath the pipe for now.

Sometimes, I just don't know whether to laugh or cry.
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