What are people using for web hosting, or portfolio hosting?
I just graduated art school, suppose I should get a portfolio thing together or even a website, or project or whatever it is that artists people do.
Went skateboarding on my old school reissue, as I rolled around Oakland, waiting to cross the street, I was being stared down by a prostitute, as I waited for a white stretch limo to clear the crosswalk, as soon as it does, a guy comes up “do you know where I can score some crystal? No, right?” before I could answer. I cross the street and passed a mariachi going to his car. Too much in less than half a block distance.
I have a strange thing for backpacks, I’ve been hunting for the perfect bag for years now, one day, one day… it shall be found and my things will be carried in a practical manner.
Story I wrote for a graphic design class. I’m filling in this space on Jan 14, 2014 and trying to consolidate journal entries, this eventually turned into a little book full of Edward Hopper paintings and this nonsense, actually I kind of liked it.
I look in the mirror almost daily, I’m not even sure why. I had been searching for hobbies that I could partake in as an individual. Lately I’ve been stealing the cups of local cafes. I’ve been a regular for years at these spots and just for the last couple of months, I just started to come home with a cup or two a week on average. I do this for retribution, for a reason I have long since forgotten. Whatever it was, they will pay for it, in the currency of small handled vessels. I have a growing collection of commercial grade ceramic mugs. Most of which are an off white to ivory with brown speckles in it. I always wonder about the speckles. Beyond being a containment apparatus for my tasty and hot beverage, what is up with the speckles? Why am I deeply concerned about speckles? I have also begun harboring a strange resentment for carrying the button shaped currency to pay for my coffee. They free load a ride in my pocket to various destinations. The pro-bono pocket train stops here. The only satisfaction with this is that I’m pretty sure the view sucks.
One of my regular spots for free ceramic ware is a mid-sized coffee bar with a latte happy hour. Yup, for one whole hour, people get hopped up on caffeine only to drink more than they should. Very American to get your monies worth, but it comes at a cost. You could be doing the pee pee dance in public. Coffee can be a bit of a diuretic if your body isn’t acclimated to it in concentrations. The single toilet bathroom can only handle one at a time. People under the duress of suppressing the urge to potty reveals facets of personalities not often seen. These are optimum conditions for people watching. In the rear of the café there is one girl who is always there when I arrive. I never directly look at her, always out of the corner of my eye or a glance at her reflection in the window. All too often, I stare out the window, and when my eyes refocus, I realize she is no longer there. She is beautiful; skin is pale, almost translucent. Her eyes are heavy. They are older than she is. She recesses away in a green coat. She doesn’t participate in the happy hour. As the weeks and months pass, the girl in the green coat sees me taking my vengeance by slipping an empty cup into my overcoat pocket. She cocks an eyebrow and smirks. Not disapproving, almost as if she understands and agrees. The following week she slipped her cup onto my table as she left. I would have missed her before, but now, we have a connection. She’ll sometimes clear her throat as the cup is placed onto the table, and she slips behind me in a very couth and subdued exit. One day, she just wasn’t there.