This blog was originally posted to The Dresden Dolls Diary.
with less than 24 hours to spend in my apartment between trips, it’s very amusing to see what happens when i open the front door at 8 pm at night.
first i delete spam. i don’t answer anything, i just delete the spam and leave everything else. it’s like squeezing an overripe pimple.
i put on a bowie cd very loud and started running around yipping and putting clothes that were piled three feet high from the photoshoot we did the morning we left for tourm while simlulataneously
sorting out the real mail and throwing away pieces of trash on the floor and putting objects in places closer to their natural habitats while cleaning a dish or two while replacing bedding tour items to the bed and putting tour tea back on the kitchen shelf (i don’t know why i have to do that, i’m just going to pack it again tomorrow).
i like running while doing this, not walking, it makes it seem like more fun somehow.
about a year ago i misplaced my favorite fountain pen, it was small and green and belonged to my mother once.
also about a year ago, i recieved a very strange gift from a friend of my landlord’s who swept in for a visit; he had been in some tropical country and brought me a collection of long little plastic bags with different exotic spices. i do not cook. but these were not in jars, and i couldnt just THROW THEM AWAY so i bundled them up in a rubber band and put them on the shelf in the kitchen.
about a half hour ago i found that the bundle had fallen onto the counter and when i picked it up it leaked white and i found that a small mouse friend had decided that the coconut powder was a tasty dinenr and that’s why it must have fallen and that is why it was leaking white.
and the green fountain pen was lodged into the bundle of spices.
i really love nights like these.
this last tour was astounding….people in all different cities love our band. i am constantly amazed how the word of mouth is getting people out of their living rooms and into clubs in the middle of nowhere.