I took three hits from my joint. I look too good for these streets but I’m blessing them. There’s an opening this evening and I have no idea who the artist is. I decided to put on my platforms and strut to the gallery.
I had a quick and generative conversation over the phone with my friend. She recently graduated from UCLA in fine arts and is looking for a job. I told her my internship was ending, and encouraged her to submit her information to positions I am transitioning out of. #teamwork
We’re both learning how to prioritize women-friendships.
The gallery wasn’t too busy. Just enough people to stand 6-feet away: a different type of shoulder-to-shoulder experience.
I seen a couple friendly faces but I wasn’t feeling too-speak-friendly. It was the joint. I spoke anyhow. Met this man named Oscar. He walked up to me enamoring at the artists ability to render images believable. I responded, I felt the awe came from the works being “stressfully kitsch”——more or less the audacity to put certain styles in close proximity to one another without there perceivably—being any specific story: seemingly the culmination of collected cultural data. It was an obnoxious show-off that I felt should be applauded for technical skill. But really, wtf did I just see!?!?!?
I shook a familiar hand before heading out who thought I was a model or actress. My mom used to get that. I’ll take it. I am a model. And I am an actress. It's always funny meeting people multiple times. I get to be a new person each time, until they’ve decided who I am.
Alta has the BEST black eyed pea fritters in the world. I say that ironically.
I’m drunk off the Genevieve. I ordered 2. Im about to walk home in my platforms. Wish me luck. Hopefully I don’t look like a seductress on my way home. Even tho this liquor got me feeling seducy.
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i wrote this in my notes app.