Abi's journals

Three books in one week, doing well in that.

"Dope", by Sara Gran was interesting enough, though too many characters, all with potential for great stories themselves, are thrown in too quickly and too close in role, and the ending felt shoved together compared to the rest of the book, like a car with an impacted front end: scrunched and entirely un-fluid.

"Consider The Lobster and Other Essays", by David Foster was verbose in his descriptions of every thing from the table settings at the Adult Film Awards to John Updike's decline in writing narcissism with his age. Intricate visualizations in books is a personal fetish of mine in literature, but after a while I realized I really didn't care what he was describing, no matter how flowery the wording became. Nevertheless, I left a little more informed than when I picked the book up.

"Coronado", by Dennis Lehane I haven't gotten to sit down and finish yet, but when I do, I'll be sure to let you all know my expert opinion. Because I obviously will have one. I got the smarts, you know?

Maybe one day I'll realise I'll never find another Francesca Lia Block, despite how juvenille it is yet doesn't really fit the innocent teen reader catagory at all.

And now, time for cocktails.

She's looking at me. Looking up looking down smoking look again. In a diner drinking coffee, its not good but its the best I've ever had. Reading drink smoke. Its the best I've ever had because I'm alone and its mine. It occurs to me I've never been alone before. I've always been waiting for my ride, literally and figuratively. Drop off pick up stop off hop in. I can go when I want. I can say nothing and I can keep me inside my ribcage.

Being with other people is... hard. I will tell you everything I did for the day, and you will learn nothing. You don't know the feelings doing acrobatics in my gut, and you don't know how my eyes looked the first time I got beat up, or how I hid the same look when I came home that day from school, having to explain to my mother about the boy from school trapping me in an elevator.

But she's looking at me, Diner Girl. Chain and lock around her neck may mean something, may not, I don't ask. She halfway hides her stare behind smoke. I look back quickly, every so often. I want to know what the fuss is about. She doesn't know what I'm like, what I've done, what I do. She doesn't know how I taste and she can't point out between giggles all the points of my accent, veering from east coast to the south. She doesn't expect me to flash her, or say something cynical, she doesn't even know what cigarettes I smoke.

"The thing you have to remember is, its not about you, its not about you..."

I'm alone and everything is as loud as I want, silent as I want, I don't have to the be the pirate, whiskey in hand as kids sit around me wanting to know what makes me tick. They want stories with direct advice. I have none to give, just funny little bits hidden behind jargon and verbose recounts. Its not about you. Its not about you.

The finish, after I've told them what they ask, they want a closer, something to take with them that will explain what is inside this creature in front of them, what makes them tick the way they do, "So what is it that fucked up Abi Oozi?" I was asked that once. I felt sick.

And all I could say was, "Do everything in life, like you need the money."

Don't waste your pain.

I think this is maybe my favorite set, not even because of how I look, but because of the circumstances. Wearing Annaliese's shirt, my favorite panties, Travis trying to sleep in bed as its his room (look for him and Ryan in some of the mirror shots), and SEAN holding the reflector. My paleness is pretty obvious, look at me compared to the wall in the few pages of shots. I reflect light better than Sean over there, ha.

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Passed driver's test. Had to run over a dead squirrel though and I squeaked, and she kept asking about my tattoos while I was trying to drive but yeah:

I'm kind of making a screensaver of Sakura's butt.

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What does the smell of burning vinegar remind you of?

I failed my drivers test. Crying and playing the sims for the rest of the day.

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