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4/19/1994-5/5/1994.




April 19,1994



The dreams come more often now. I often paint pictures of him in the studio. I miss Matt, his prophetic words, his soft dark eyes and most of all…his soul. He was something to ponder upon. I still try so hard to figure out so many things about him but fail miserably. I never got the painting back that i did for him either. I think, maybe, his family destroyed it. I don’t know where Nasha is and most of the time i hate her anyway.



I started reading Memnoch the Devil today. It seems like it will be a good book to read. I just need to take my mind off other things.



April 28, 1994



We fight all the time, me and Gina. Usually it is about ridiculous things that do not matter anyway. she is leaving and we are falling apart-all at the same time. We are having a party the day before she leaves. It was Shanal’s idea and I guess, all things considered, it will be a great party. All our parties are great. So, if a relationship is going to hell, why not throw a party, hmmm? Who fucking cares anyway.



May 4, 1994



I barely passed my evaluation in the basement. I had to gather several of my paintings and meet one of the advisors in the basement for evaluation. This would determine whether I should return to Art College next semester. These advisors are cruel and heartless mostly, in my opinion…and it wasn’t far from the truth actually. Every absense, every below average grade that I recieved was scrutinized harshly by the advisor of ‘their’ choice. Mr. Reisor questioned me on every fault that I had. He criticized the fact that I was still uncertain about what I wanted to do with my life.



When I told him I wouldn’t be returning the next semester, he came down harder on me. He actually went as far as to tell me that I would probably end up pregnant and drop out of the next college. I cried…my heart is so tender, i guess, but I cried. I felt raped in the mind by his criticisms and reminded of the F I recieved in painting 1.



And i wont be back. I don’t want the memory of failed love, harsh critics and steep financial hardships to rule my life. To be honest, I don’t know what I want. I just want to get away from MCA.



May 5,1994



Cinco de Mayo for some…for me, time to walk behind Brooks Museum and see, once more…our names carved in the bendy tree. I don’t know what kind of tree it is but its really twisted with low limbs. I was so happy when me and Gina sat there and ate our sub sandwiches and giggled about other strange painters.



I remember the day that me, her and B C got drunk and wrestled all over her apartment floor. And the one time, the old guy who said he helped produce the Wizard of Oz copped a feel while I had my picture taken with him. Yep, those were funny memories.



We talked about how, when I first learned to drive in Memphis, how I scared the shit out of everyone. It was a day we all had to do rubbings and take photos at the largest cememtary in M town. Me and Gina smiled, remembering how we lay on the tombstones together and kissed. We even convinced Henan to take our picture.


I  thought back, remembering the naked ramen noodle fights, the streaking across Poplar st  and I blushed when I thought about how they had all dared me and Gina to have sex in the apartment in from of her roomates. But it was the tree that kept coming to mind.
The tree was always for memories and gossip. I touched its bark and dropped a tear. Then I kissed it goodbye.



I wouldnt be back here in the fall.