07 May 2011


I need to get my goddamn chattels in order. I am currently in the midst of my final hours of service at a mid-century modern furniture store on Pine Street, where I have been employed since August. An uncomfortable, deteriorating chair, in addition to the significance of this day, caused me to spot and draw meaning (respectively) from this thing:

It popped right out of the seat cushion! I'm going to use it in the Sator Arepo Tenet Opera Rotas quilt that I had planned to make like five billion years ago. The material will form a dichotomous union with a few pieces of some curtains that hung in the window of my very first place of employment, The Record Den, which went out of business (Oddly enough, that is also why I'm leaving this job.). Thus, the "First/Last Job" square will materialize.

Initially, I had planned to create the entire piece within twenty-four hours on an appropriately palindromic date; specifically, the 20th of November, 2011. I think that was just a procrastination tactic. Also, there's a chance that I will manage to get another job by then, in which case the former constraints of this project would not permit me to use this rogue cushion stuffing. Eh, maybe such a breach from the fundamental formula derails the overall function of the endeavor, which is to analyze the relevance of the piece to any time other than the present (or the time of it's fabrication), but I don't know...that defiance says a lot about me, for better or for worse. Will the meaning be severely altered because of this adjustment? Nngh. It's possible that the significance of the entire undertaking was exhausted, squashed, immediately after its inception. I'm still going to go through with it.

The notion of constructing this thing within as many palindromic constraints as possible is still very important to me. I think I'll try to adhere to a somewhat palindromic date as I sew each individual square. Tonight, at 11:32 pm (May 7th, 2011, seven minutes plus five minutes past 11:20), the "First Job/Last Job" square will take shape.

The period that I spent working at this store was, in many ways, laden with awful events. I became involved with a person who, before moving to another hemisphere, conveniently sought me out, most likely with the intent of impressing his status as a grounded individual upon someone who didn't know him from Adam's off ox. This assertion was far from true and things ended pretty shittily, but I'm glad that the relationship ended (otherwise I wouldn't be with Felix, who is the one major exception regarding this ridiculous treatise on August-May distress). In addition, this period marked the passing of both my grandparents and an uncle, as well as the augmentation of hostility between housemates. A light dusting of suicide attempts amongst friends and job-related suspicions was thrown in, for good measure. Thus, this rogue cushion fragment is quite significant; it has supported my ireful butt for months.

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