Filing

Friday night I went here

a little independent movie theater/bar for a “meet and greet” sort of thing with the design studio. But it was more of a meet and see how many people are in the studio from Ohio (there’s a billion oddly) drink and talk about picas and if our jobs will even exist in 10 years. It was amazing actually. To be out in the city at night for the first time. Driving in I saw my view and the city scape. All the steady lights mixed with the blinky ones. It wasn’t Christmas or soft feeling, but more of an existence. These lights exist in the same way people do – we all have our purpose.
Filmbar was the most beautiful low-lit place I’d been in a while. It’s moroccan light fixtures and graphic walls was a gothic mix of west meets hipster meets old English. The creepy man painting (see photo) was outside on a brick wall. It was startling in person, it looked like he was created with a sharp pencil and carved into the paint, his eyes were so precise. His body was made of some tar, puddy substance.
I really had the best time this weekend. I stayed out until 2:30 in the morning Friday and Saturday (ouch on Sunday), went to this great coffee shop that was renovated from an old 50s style gas station, hung out with my boss on Saturday night at Rosie Somethings and met a ton of people that I’ll never remember the names of. As sad and shifty as I have been the past weeks, there are glimpses of comfort here. I wonder if spending so much time in NYC has made Phoenix oddly manageable. In this city of 1.4 million people, I feel cozy.
This weekend, too, pat’s younger sister helped me unpack some stuff. Now it just looks like the really messy apartment of a hoarder, but I guess that’s better than living among boxes. I have work orders in for just about everything, even this morning, I had to go in and get a work order because my mail key doesn’t work. Really? You can’t just give me a new one right then? So things are on hold. The dishes are piling up because I don’t have dish soap and the dishwasher connects to the disposal and the disposal isn’t grinding and I can’t really afford to get soap until Friday when I get my first paycheck after 3 weeks. But things are coming along. My couch is up. I have a bed to sleep on. The cat licks me awake the same way she always has. Some things are the same. Unpacking the boxes I’ve carried during my 20s, most of it’s there just rearranged and the things we’ve lost or left along the way get a salute and are stored away in an invisible place.

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