My name is Art, and this is my first log. I’ve never really wrote anything outside of college. I feel like my cherry’s popped, a second virginity to something I thought I knew. It’s different when it’s not for a grade. Different, like that girl I met yesterday. The reason why I’m writing…
Before this, I was recording at the Huntington Library, where they have gardens from all around the world…or at least gardens that mimic what’s around the world. It was nice seeing the view. I saw Asian and European gardens, the ducks were interesting to shoot, and the Chinese garden was enough to keep me staring for days. I roamed the fields, crossed each bridge, and passed under every tree in the entire property. I had everything to start my own documentary, if I wanted to. Everything but the Shakespeare garden.
It takes me a while to digest everything in, being a visual person, learning had always been difficult blind-folded. Some would consider it A-D-D, others think it’s a stubborn trait of mine. Personally, I think that if there were no pictures, then it never happened. Books are another topic though. But among everything yesterday, I have to admit I wasn’t so much as intrigued by anything until I reached the Shakespeare garden. Not because it was small, or lacked a garden past its moat, but because I found her.
You remember that feeling you got when Romeo first set eyes on Juliet, how being in love was so mystifying that you couldn’t wait to be there someday? It was like that, except I was a Deer staring at headlights, looking for an excuse to just sit next to her. It’s no poetry, but Portho’s sounded just as good. She smelled nice too, a familiar scent from this occult shop in Magnolia Blvd, down at Burbank.
We might be meeting soon. We will be meeting soon. In fact, we’re hanging out. it’s a date.
I have her number…and I forgot to write her name down.