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2001-09-07 || 9:38 a.m. || the marvelous trash compactor || i want to clean. i want to scrub at enamel until metal shines through. i want to go through my closet, through the drawers, through the suitcases, and fill the garbage bags sitting in heaps in the middle of my room. i have so much stuff. my apartment is crammed with things. dress patterns and typewriters and suitcases and shoes and guitars and the orange chair and books and books and the busted stereo and cat things and horse things and jewelry boxes and fancy pin cushions and matchboxes all those figurines and photographs tucked in drawers with extra silverware and light bulbs. and clothes. all those coats, oh. pants and skirts i have never fit into. shirts i have never worn. purses and telephones and. my apartment has turned into the salvation army. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |