Thank GOD I did not have to assist this week at the studio. If I were waking up at 6:30 AM then I would not have been able to stay up until 4:30 AM on Monday, compressing and re-compressing that damn video that I am fucking proud of. It just about killed me. The stress of making everything work flawlessly, mostly on schedule, and without any major arguments was enough to make me sick. Getting sick might have something to do with my coffee/grapefruit juice/champagne diet, but I’m pretty sure it was the stress. I am alive, and writing to you now, but I just want you to know, that I was ill-prepared for what it would do to me. I feel like I’m back in college again.
That said, I have spent the past few days relishing the luxury of not doing anything and not paying the consequences. Which only resulted in my obsession with the wreaths hanging on the doors of my neighbors. No offense, neighbors, but they lack imagination.
Here is a quick capture of the wreaths at fault. We have everything from the wreath that’s been up since last fall, the wreath that’s plausibly been up since the Christmas before last, and the people who want it to snow on the fourth of July. I’m not entirely sure what’s up with the moss heart requesting “peace.” Is this from Christmas? Are they hippies? I can understand if they’re hippies, but it’s just a little Hallmark. The hideous-angel-wreath-people left their door open, so I had to sneak a shot of it behind a bush. It’s small, but you can smell the ugly. My least favorite wreath is also the newest one of the bunch. It’s directly across the lawn from my apartment, and I have this paranoia that’s it’s smiling happily at me just to make me feel inferior about my wreath-less door. It’s also pointing the finger at all the front-door faux-pas happening in the complex; it sits there and says “Hey guys, don’t you know it’s springtime?” I want to rip the stupid yellow thing down. The worst part is that they are also planting pansies around their front step and two days ago they set out this ENORMOUS Japanese maple IN A BIG-ASS POT. You just know they’re going to take that thing with them when they move into their perfect, precious, suburban, new-construction home. I have the same irrational hate for them as I have for Kelly Ripa. How can that woman be so, fucking perky all the damn time?
I understand that I need to take a major chill pill, stop hating on suburbia (since I kinda live there now), and grow up. I understand, and I plan to grow up when I get all the foolish and rash impulses out of my system.
My plan of attack is to make a wreath for my door. At first I wanted to make one out of broken vinyl records, then I remembered this clothespin wreath I saw to hold tea bags and thought that would be controversial if I replaced the teabags with condoms. I would maybe add an uncomfortable little sign that said “No sex is safe sex, but if you’re going to do it, take a condom.” Maybe it could say something about love being in the air. Or maybe the back of every condom could have a Bible verse condemning either sex before marriage or contraception. Then I could enjoy the faces of displeased neighbors all day long from my window. Would you take it? Man, what a great piece of angsty installation art that would be. Now, this idea would upset my roommate, parents, and probably cost more than the satisfaction it would give me to be the neighborhood assholes, so I’ve discarded it. I could do the same with polaroids, but I thought I might throw this idea out to our readers and ask for some creative, yet somewhat appropriate ideas and opinions. I’m making a wreath.