The phone rings in a dream.
Drove with my grandparents to Manchester. 45 minute drive. My grandma took a plane to North Carolina to witness my cousin's graduation. I haven't seen him since I was eight. Guess it's staying that way.
We took the Prius and the truck so that we could fill them up with donated food from the Manchester food bank. I was allowed to grab a handful of stuff for my own devices. I mostly got old, expired 35mm film which I hear is a godsend to develop for experimental photographers (read: me).
I also got a disposable camera, some weird dyes, mints that taste like chlorine, rechargable batteries, shoe polish. A CD by the band Seven Mary Three, that reached their peak in 1996. Their new CD sucks. In fact, I bet they all do.
An entire case of weird energy pills I will be experimenting with.
I got a bit more than a $150 worth of stuff. My grandpa got about $1977 estimated worth of food and toiletries, but he had to pay $232. The money was tithe money tho, because the church funds the pantry.
My uncle employees a man named Miro, a dude from Bulgaria who taught me how to wait tables. Just going over the basics. A crash course. He was really thorough and realistic, teaching me how to raise the check.
As I waited in Scott's office, I noticed his tropical fish. Sad little things. Slaves with low levels of consciousness. No emotions. Swim. These are animals as wallpaper. As nothing more than decoration. Because how much affection can you afford to a mindless animal like that? Not that you should set them free, not that I care. It makes no difference. The point is, they exist for the purpose of observation. Just an observation.
Tried some schizophotography. Nothing I really loved.
I like my flickr pro account so much. Totally worth the $25 I paid for it. I see it as more of a photo diary than a collection. Each picture is worth more than a 1000 words to me. You'd probably get a better idea of what was happening to me in New England if you followed the uploads, which you can, here. You may already know that.
The security here is very lax. No one locks anything up. Not even their front door. My grandpa leaves his keys in the car. It would be incredibly easy to commit a crime here. It might be possible to get away with it, I don't know. People here notice things more and they are more likely to tattle.
If five others and I went around burgling people, in broad daylight, we'd create a strange wave of paranoia that would turn this town completely upside down. Once they lock those doors up, once they fear, this town will never be safe again.
One day it will happen. I'm just wondering when.
Perhaps the people here are too trusting. In other areas of living, a little cynicism could go a long way.
I went to a boring little awards ceremony and drew sketches with my cousins. My cousins got many achievements in school, but I was just happy with what I drew. Spent the rest of the evening playing video games with Matthew.
Drove home in the darkness and spoke softly with it. I'm here again, in this sunless abyss and this time I'm not to blame.
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