existential heroes and such

I don't have an artistic bone in my body. Meaning, I can't draw, I can't paint. You know, that sort of thing. I painted a canvas once and hung it in my apartment and someone asked me how old I was when I painted it. My response: twenty. But! Creative and imaginative bones are what lie beneath my skin, and sometimes I feel like I am not as creative as I used to be. I am as imaginative as ever, but creative, I just don't know. Stefi and I used to work together at Joe's Out and spend all night writing random little notes to each other that didn't mean anything at all. We posted them all underneath of this big piece of plastic on the counter, where work notes and things like that were posted, and our asshole manager took them all out and trashed them. I wish we still had them all, but one note that I wrote in particular sticks out in my mind, and I will never forget it.

She was an existentialist hero in the eyes of the hot July sun.

I don't even know what that means. Do you? Does anyone? And we would write things like, "Susan loved the way Bill looked at her, even if the cool moonlit sky was telling a lie." I just made that one up, but who is Susan? Who is Bill? What is going on here? You decide.

Stefi just wrote another one of these for me and posted it on my facebook page. I loved it. Here it is:

Princess Tami , and exestential girl doing yoga in the top of a tower, musty books surround her, with the eyes of the July sun shining through the stained glass.

I am weird. You don't have to tell me. I already know. And I like it that way.