another dear senna
Sen,
So here i am, writing you another letter from far away. (usually i don't send them, which is why you probably didn't know about the first ones and "another" probably doesn't make sense to you). I spent the last six dollars i had on an alarm clock at Walgreens so i could get up for school. I'm sitting in front of my ratty little dest with my toes in the ratty maroon carpet. I sucks living in the only dive building in the neighborhood. Across the way is a rad building which apparently only rich people live in, since they all have Jags that get parked in private garages which no one has in san francisco except rich people.
The couple across the way in the third floor apartment are very calming to spy on. They come home from work and have dinner and then she goes to the gym and he goes running, and then they meet at the end of the night and nestle on the couch together watching TV. I think if i had to live that monotonous life I'd go crazy, but right now while i'm lonely and nearly friendless in this new city, it looks really great. They probably think I'm psycho for gazing out the window at them all the time (i actually put on my glasses the other day so i could see them better!) Actually i'm sure they can't see me from there. i hope not. i'm really not a crazy voyeur, just lonely.
I went to orientation today, it was an interesting experience. There isn't a single ugly or even remotely unattractive person there. You'd think it was a modeling school or something. I stayed in Oakland at hillary's place the night before and then got up and took the train to school, so i was wearing wrinkly clothes and i was all undone and sweaty. the rest of the school was hot and perfectly manicured, wearing prada, gucci, and diesel and carrying LV hand bags. (i, however, was wearing sweat and hangnails and carrying an army issue hand bag.)
So that was my daily does of humiliation as well as my reminder not to eat until november. (and i swear i am also the shortest person there.)
I guess it's not a bad thing that i can't afford to shop for nice clothes because it would be really easy to spend out of control here. I live right downtown which is the shopping district so i walk by urban outfitters, diesel, NM and 20 other stores that i'm not allowed in due to my tax bracket (tiffany, prada, chanel, Hermes). It is kind of depressing but at the same time empowering, like i'm sticking it to the man. okay, i'm lying. it fucking sucks and all i want to do is shop until i don't feel like a fat sweaty fatty anymore. It's not empowering. it's really hard being more broke that i've ever been. But i'm going to start going to the gym so that at least my body looks good even though i'm wearing a burlap sack tied on with a towel.
end letter.
So here i am, writing you another letter from far away. (usually i don't send them, which is why you probably didn't know about the first ones and "another" probably doesn't make sense to you). I spent the last six dollars i had on an alarm clock at Walgreens so i could get up for school. I'm sitting in front of my ratty little dest with my toes in the ratty maroon carpet. I sucks living in the only dive building in the neighborhood. Across the way is a rad building which apparently only rich people live in, since they all have Jags that get parked in private garages which no one has in san francisco except rich people.
The couple across the way in the third floor apartment are very calming to spy on. They come home from work and have dinner and then she goes to the gym and he goes running, and then they meet at the end of the night and nestle on the couch together watching TV. I think if i had to live that monotonous life I'd go crazy, but right now while i'm lonely and nearly friendless in this new city, it looks really great. They probably think I'm psycho for gazing out the window at them all the time (i actually put on my glasses the other day so i could see them better!) Actually i'm sure they can't see me from there. i hope not. i'm really not a crazy voyeur, just lonely.
I went to orientation today, it was an interesting experience. There isn't a single ugly or even remotely unattractive person there. You'd think it was a modeling school or something. I stayed in Oakland at hillary's place the night before and then got up and took the train to school, so i was wearing wrinkly clothes and i was all undone and sweaty. the rest of the school was hot and perfectly manicured, wearing prada, gucci, and diesel and carrying LV hand bags. (i, however, was wearing sweat and hangnails and carrying an army issue hand bag.)
So that was my daily does of humiliation as well as my reminder not to eat until november. (and i swear i am also the shortest person there.)
I guess it's not a bad thing that i can't afford to shop for nice clothes because it would be really easy to spend out of control here. I live right downtown which is the shopping district so i walk by urban outfitters, diesel, NM and 20 other stores that i'm not allowed in due to my tax bracket (tiffany, prada, chanel, Hermes). It is kind of depressing but at the same time empowering, like i'm sticking it to the man. okay, i'm lying. it fucking sucks and all i want to do is shop until i don't feel like a fat sweaty fatty anymore. It's not empowering. it's really hard being more broke that i've ever been. But i'm going to start going to the gym so that at least my body looks good even though i'm wearing a burlap sack tied on with a towel.
end letter.
posted by dee goldie at 9:37 AM
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