my back is pressed onto a cold wall. i look to my right:
"i am sure i need scarcely tell you that i am very proud and happy" -charles dickens
my collage of overly-expensive quotable cards stares back at me, giving me a little push out of bed every morning.
those and the alarm set to wake me up at 6:40 every morning. (but brian, you don't have class until 8:30.....)
.....what ISN'T set to wake me up every morning is my heating blanket. my beautiful, soft, wonderful, tan, sunbeam heating blanket. we fell in love on january 10th, 2009.
our romance story begins much like any other:
so there i was, sleeping with another heating blanket.
"it will keep you warm down here" my sister-in-law said.
"it's perfect, you won't regret it" my brother chimes in.
"really," they both say in unison. "you'll love it."
i must say, at first, i was a little uneasy.
"i don't know guys....i've never tried one before. i mean, don't they light people on fire and stuff?"
"i mean, what kind of tom-foolery was this? the bed is warm WHEN I GET IN?!"
"preposterous!" shouts the old man in a white wig in back.
"outrage!" cries the housewife sitting 2 rows in front of me.
but there it was, weasling it's way into my life.
when i woke up the next morning, the blanket was still there, right on top of me, keeping me warm, making me feel safe. (too explicit?)
so what did i do? like a tyrant, i immediately left it to rot in the bismarck basement it calls home.
i drove directly to target in fargo, bought myself a lover, and THEN went back to my apartment. ever since that day we've slept together every night. every. single. night.
i see no end in sight. and i must confess that my sleeping situation never has been warmer.
it's one of the best $30 i've ever spent. hands down.
switching gears.
i don't know what's gotten into me.
lately i've been interes-wait.... obsessing over buying a house.
"whoa, g! what the--?!"
i know, i know. buying an old house and fixing it up. remodeling.
brilliance.
painting, buying linens, appliances, silverware, bedding, fluffy towels.
i dream of painting the rest of my goya collection. and of starting a large-format hadid painting.
i have them all selected.
the thrill of owning my own piece of property with my own stuff is invigorating, exciting!
i have a million ideas for custom lamps, light fixtures, color combinations, furniture, textiles.
first, i need a badass woodshop....pete style. (and i don't think my father will ever know how much i want this. because my brother always gets the "man stuff."....dammit)
i'm becoming one of those crazy people.
you know the ones, in raggedy clothes, standing on the side of the road with a sign:
"will work for barcelona chair."
and it will be perfect. with white trim and a ton of white subway tile. and muted greens.
....call me your typical 23year old male.
who is very single and very not married. (thanks, california)
i just finished up a movie.
the women. that's the title.
"why, brian?! why?!"
the cast.
if annette benning were in every movie, i wouldn't complain. maybe it's my passive mania for running with scissors, but her voice is captivating. she added so much depth to that character, as well as the mother in american beauty.
god, i love her.
in another display of "things that brian loves," she played a strong-willed, no nonsense woman.
miranda priestly,
sydney bristow,
beatrix kiddo,
samantha jones. (i don't actually watch sex and the city....just the movie....mistake.)
any muscle man can be an action star (insert stallone).
but it takes a special breed to play a leading lady.
this is turning into the least manly post.
ever.
chainsaws, buffet lines, monster trucks, 9 iron, budweiser, gillette, double-barrell shotgun, bacon cheeseburgers, table saw, hunting, timberlodge steakhouse, new balance, sawdust.
better.
i am a ridiculous person.
lonely.
i was asked to write to the minot paper a letter of support for the upcoming legislation including the lgbt community in anti-discrimination clauses statewide.
because you can legally be fired in north dakota for being gay.
which is horrible,
but i remain apprehensive. i need to talk to my parents about this move. minot loves gossip. what if a prominent business owner's son was writing to the paper in support of "those weird homosexuals?"
the last thing i want to do is turn my parents into a piece of gossip.
i once read in a book something that scared the pants off of me: i'm not the only one coming out. eventually, my parents will tell people, which means they (in effect) "come out" too.
and that scared the shit out of me.
i just need to talk to them about this. and these conversations always end up awkward and weird for all involved parties.....shit.
ah, i could write more. should write more. i need to close my computer, dream of buying a macbook(pro?), and fall unusually deep into sleep.
i am dreaming of returning to the gelato shop on via serpenti in rome.
or the one in hooker square in athens.
or just any european gelato.
does this make me pretentious?
buona notte.
