Silicon Conquistador

October 10th, 2006

02:16 am - Violence and Charity
Not a one is ready
Still you hold my weighty lot
Without a sigh.
Put your hands upon me
Maternal and balmy
Let the Hyades cry.
Darling, please go
Turn the lights out
That I might scrutinize
Tea-leaves a’turning
And through grave exaction
I’ll set seas a'churning
Heaving and moaning
Till caverns run dry
Void of all substance
But for pipe-dreams and lye.

Is it your calling to accompany me?
Concerned about my sanity
Or does canned Christian courtesy
Goad you along?
Just a wee caveat (the least I can do)
Gouge out your eyes, lick a trickle of goo
Suck on the orbs if you feel so inclined
Let the sweet taste leave you slaked and sanguine
Feel viscous white waterfalls ooze from the sockets
You butcher your prime sense but satisfy mine!
Or have you acquired a taste for the vile?
Perhaps you won’t have to tear your face apart
At least for the while
Say, grunge and champagne?
Bowel movements and rain (the brisk, bonny kind that brings puddles to plains)?
Violence and charity...?

School is fun. Simon's Rock is great. Yay.

So the philosophical crises have gone to the back-burner. I can almost hear terms like "class conflict," "corporate imperialism," and "exploitation" without feeling sick. Almost.

What I enjoy particullarly about Simon's Rock is the substance of the arguments. Wherever you go in the world, dudes are arguing. It's just something human males do (females are usually fence-sitters and assess things internally when in mixed-company, while males tend to stick to their guns and engage in shouting matches... it is a fact observed by many, and whether it is at all innate or completely conditioned is not my concern). Anyways, since I'll have to put up with this sort of behavior regardless, at least at the Rock it's about philosophy and politics and the like (total HOGSWASH more often than not, but the finest hogswash is very shrewd and engaging to the point of hilarity, e.g. Goatonapole). I only wish that I could contribute to conversations more often. It is not that I lack knowledge (except in certain areas, like contemporary politics), I am just an ineffiecient oral communicator who is too concerned with image and impressions. What I should do is get out of my own head, for I am so fucking egocentric! Already this entry is about me, me, me. Oh well. That is one of my finest skills: personal assessment. Interpretation of my own behavior and the behavior of others.

One thing that bothers me is ideological inflexibility. My opinions are pretty fluid since I am very skeptical about sources of knowledge (the internet, Wikipedia, text books, articles with theses, speakers/group presenters with theses or political agendae). I am not sure what is true, and I don't think it is my business to determine what would be "best" for the human race or some group entirely removed from me. This is not to say I am indifferent, it is just to say that I do not think I know enough about globalization, for instance, to say that is sucks. There are statistics that indicate otherwise (standard of living increased, better distribution of wealth, etc.) But what are the critera exactly? And then there is homogenenization and disassimilation of local economy and culture. I do not intend to get into a pro/cons presentation for globalization-- this is just one of the many issues that I choose not to get up-in-arms over because I simply do not have enough information.

And this causes me a bit of stress. Some folks have crafted logically feasible arguments and practiced delivering them so many times that they can now do so with formidable eloquence. And it is disarming to someone who is pretty open-minded and easily persuaded by a well-worded, confidently articulated case. Oh, but no longer. I know better now.
Current Location: Dystopia, oh the pretense
Current Mood:

sore
Current Music: Hey Jude is still playing in my head, working on week four!

August 20th, 2006

01:39 am - Do this in remembrance of me...
At long last I've acquired an insatiable lust for the horror genre.

So I'm crossing the Bible belt this weekend... going from the land of scene kid posers to the land of genuine scene kids. I don't know which I prefer. At least I can dismiss the former for lack of intelligence. God how elitist of me. And I say I'm open-minded. I should eat shit for that. But I embrace labels; they're inevitable and convenient. I've said it before and I'll say it again: we are a tribe species, and since we are no longer predestined to tribes at birth we must elect our own. And that's cool. All this noise about individuality and non-conformity is a load of cockbull really. Who cares if people copy off of people?

I'm feeling really empty today. Now before I get all emo I'll... nevermind, I'm just gonna get emo. It's America, right? We're entitled to just about everything, aren't we? I'm entitled to walk into a mall wearing my Tripp or fishnet gloves or even 19th century evening wear and not get a single look from those godforsaken fascist corporate conservative bible-thumping jingoistic homophobic rascist white male capitalist pigs. Shucks. I live in the SOUTH, and not ONCE has a person under one of those categories severely condemned me. Yeah, I'll get a curious glance now and them, perhaps with a glint of disapproval, but I understand. They just don't know any better, and so I don't get angry with them.

What's this to say? I don't know. I sometimes wish we'd all get past our prejudices and look each other in the eyes and recognize the singular being under all the cultural baggage. No, we are NOT entitled. True love and compassion are sacrificial. Yeah, we're all afraid of something, all angry at someone, all annoyed by this or that. Yeah, I'm guilty of it too... scene kids annoy me, and I'm even more annoyed by people who seem bitter towards other people without justifiable cause. But I have no justifiable cause to be annoyed with scene kids, and thus I am annoyed with myself and my hypocrisy. But I've learned to be easy on myself, because ultimately I make myself out to be worse than I really am. In general I am very caring and friendly (except with my BEST friends... then my bossy and critical nature comes out). I help little kids and animals, and I try to reach outside my box (whatever that may be) and see others' points of view. I have the ability to empathize, and that is among my greatest strengths. But I still want to beat myself over the head sometimes for being guilty of that very act of naivety that I despise the most: stereotyping.

Too much gore and too many Raisinets. And if you are reading this, you will be one of the few people to know that I am TERRIFIED of Simon's Rock, and I am getting butterfiles at the thought of returning. If I have the strength I desperately need to get through this final year, I will arrive at the Rock cowering behind my whole meticulously planned persona of elegant confidence and genial unapproachability. Because I can't afford to be myself. I can't afford to be sincere. I'll just end up vulnerable and raw and from there I will witness the steady erosion of my soul and my strength and shucks this is so cheesy but how else may it be stated?

On another note, Snakes of a Plane. I know, I know, the whole thing has lost any luster it may have once possessed, but really y'all. Snakes of a Plane!
Current Location: Limbo
Current Mood:

gloomy
Current Music: Dawn Crickets

July 31st, 2006

02:50 am - Hellooo Nurse!
I could honestly compose something of an epic concerning the happenings since my last entry. But that would be excruciatingly dull.

Opry Mills Mall, haunt of the overweight tourists. Nevertheless, we have grown up together, and I've grown so dearly fond of you. Really now, nothing beats the exotic aroma that is apple and cinnamon essence intermingling with the stench of window cleaner.

And I like the direction mainstream fashion is taking; I can always work the corporate/urban chic look into my wardrobe. And then there's the artsy stuff that is more glamourous than the vintage garb of late and the military wear that appeals to my inner Rivethead.

My sister and I romped around Lowes one day. As children we would pretend it was some sort of bleak wonder-world: the land of the lamps was our celestial asylum, the greenhouse was the Eastern garden of earthly delights, and to the West (the lumber section) was a formidable forest, home of the malevolent "beep-beeps." Now I am blessed (or cursed) to be able to treasure the beauty of every nook and cranny of a hardware store. The scent of plastic and rubber and dusty wood is intoxicating. The shimmering array of metalic knick-knacks, massive coils of foam like the spiral of life, the unmistakable and foreboding beeping of the lumber-handling vehicles (which still makes my heart race)... behold the potential of man... corporate greed, oligopolistic crisis, seductive image of friendliness (by the people, for the people), manufactured machismo, industrial magnificence... how splendid, how splendid. I am still very ill, but I'm getting better, I'm working on it, I cried for the pain of a stranger last night. There is hope, yes, there is hope. But I don't want to sacrifice my unusual sense of beauty... just modify it, so that I won't delight in suffering, or the symbolism of suffering.

That is the crisis. I must reconcile my unusual aesthetic preferences (that resonate too deeply with me to be dismissed or repressed) with my understanding of morality. How can I fight for peace if the idea of peace seems so bland to that rapacious, jaded, postmodernist, sadistic artist in me? To fight requires passion, but I am disillusioned! No, I can not fight for peace and harmony. My battle is far more challenging... I must fight myself such that I may, someday, passionately fight for peace and harmony as I know I should...

So there's that bit. I just lost my dazzling new eye-shadow to my sister in a game of poker.
Current Location: Office PC, as always
Current Mood:

awake
Current Music: Rajna

June 25th, 2006

02:43 pm - New lines will be auto-formatted
So I've been back from Russia for a little over a week. I'm tired of talking about the trip so I won't. There are pictures on Facebook.

Some friends went to Rhode Island for the week and left me with their Hermit Crab, Santino. It's a curiously cute but somewhat frightening little fellow, and it's checking out the larger shell in his cage. I wonder if (s)he will change in my presence.

I went to the zoo. Gibbons are amazing creatures. They're songs (male, female, and baby all singing different parts) are fascinatingly eerie.

So I got together with two old school friends to plan "bacchanalian festivities" before I leave in a week. I went out with one of them, Ginny, to enjoy an evening of iced-tea and rum cake and pipe tobacco on the patio of an exotic little joint. We got into a conversation with the waiter that led me to making an absolute fool of myself... Ginny asked him about the "three milk cake," wondering how there could be three kinds of milk. He explained that they are all processed differently, because she thought three different kinds of milk implied three different kinds of animals, like goats and whatever else. "Or snakes" I said, and then the waiter and my friend both agreed that snakes don't have milk but can be milked for their venom, and then I said "but I think snakes have some kind of milk" and then I realized that snakes aren't fucking mammals and don't have milk, and I felt super stupid and uneducated.

I've been wandering around Wikipedia recently. One of my more interesting meanderings concerned capital punishment through the ages. Did you know that the electric chair is the default method of execution in Nebraska? Also, three states retain hanging as an alternative to lethal injection at the choice of the convicted. It has only been used three times since 1970.
Current Location: Office PC
Current Mood:

curious
Current Music: Birds out Yonder

June 7th, 2006

10:47 pm - Booze in Moscow Everywhere but Not a Drop to Drink
So long as my mom and grandparents won't let me out of their sight. A lot of you would love it here. The only tall buildings are apartments (I suspect not for long though), kids can drink in public, no one owns a car, and there are so many darling and cheap open markets. It's wonderful, and all the while I'm learning a new language and making new friends. And I saw the classiest, most entertaining circus ever.

Ten thousand pennies strewn about the floor and the room smells like menthol and apricots when a lady in a towel walks in, like home in L.A. where a bucket-swing hung from an apricot tree and sheets flapped in the wind like phantoms in the twilight, a monument to a forgotten age... did the Mexican man next door smoke menthols? rocking and rocking away his weariness in a rickety rocking chair, scratching a full white beard and eyeing old tattoos with regret, his only friends now are the ceramic gnomes about his porch, for his beer-bellied companions smoke and slurp but seldom speak… gnomes with twisted grins like the goblins that pass through rod-iron gates to be shredded into wispy segments like paper through a paper-shredder, and the time has come for a miracle more menacing than the tropical sun, a wasteland so bleak lies ahead littered with railroad spikes and aluminum cans and McDonalds toys and engagement rings and shattered starlight, little specks of light dance across the concrete floor and tin barricades like toxic tears that turn icy cheeks red with rust, so there may be a soul so there may be some passion but at the expense of immaculate wholeness and manufactured purity, tainted by the only touch of tenderness to be found…

In my high-school now in the corner of a room on fluffy green carpet and my grandpa is teaching Geometry and drawing diagrams of parallel planes on a projector, why is he teaching Geometry? it doesn’t matter, teachers don’t have to know what they’re talking about, got Math and English homework done, but the teacher for World Geography has yet to show up, oh where has he been? I already have enough work, and I have to read these papers my peers wrote for English and issue grades, group-project papers that were already graded and I must grade the project for each group, need to drive home, that stack of paper awaits, but alas, there is a detour, for it seems I’ll be spending the second semester of my Sophomore year abroad, at my old elementary school, so I wait for the bus, I stand on the gravel shivering in the morning mist, and them I’m at the elementary school, and I bounce and bounce high into the air up the handicapped rail and enter the registration portable and say “Hi, I’m Magic” and I can’t tell if the kids are smiling because they are glad to see someone new or because they are amused by my appearance, but they look funny and dumb, one dude has really big glasses and a girl has braces and pigtails and acne, it’s just one semester, it will be alright, however gross the cafeteria is, I need to get back to what I was doing though, I need to drive home to get the papers, but it is Halloween and kids keep blocking the road and I drive past my house down the railroad tracks and see my old neighbor Evelyn and her siblings and she looks younger and she is wearing a pumpkin costume and she runs out and shouts “Hi, Emily!” and I run out and give her a hug and begin to kiss her when I get sidetracked and find myself at some noisy party with dim orange lighting and some lovely gent is holding me and I ask him to come to my house, my parents and my sister are away, and he says no, and I ask why, and then he says yes, but only if I put on stronger perfume, so I drive home with him, the lights in the house are too bright and he strays into my sister’s room and I ask him if he really suspected that I would like such obnoxious colors and tell him to go hide in my bed because I think I hear my parents, but I am mistaken, but there is a big pile of junk in the middle of my room and junk all over my bed that I dump into the pile, and the shower rack for whatever reason is next to my bed and I don’t want it to fall over so I have to remove the shampoo bottles one by one and keep them in order so I can put them back in order as to not raise any suspicion so I take the bottles off by two but there are so damn many! why can’t this family have just one bottle of shampoo and one bottle of soap why do we have to have so many products? I can’t take too long doing this or he might leave, but it seems to take an eternity because there are too many bottles to be moved! and I hear the car driving up, my parents! but it doesn’t matter because he is already gone and then my mom walks in and I keep trying to remove all the shampoos, did I only dream that he came? it seems so… but in a instant I realize that I had dreamt it all.

And now I have a box of young kittens, so delicate and small. There are six of them, three replicas of each of my three cats, and we are giving them away, but it is my responisibility to store them, so I put them in the oven. Then in horror I realize that the oven was on and that I cooked them alive and I begin to wail with grief and I pull them out and find that their eyeballs have fallen out of their sockets but they are still balls of fluff intact, after all it seems they had no inards, just balls of fur with googly eyes, but in a instant I was relieved to discover that I had cooked no kittens at all...

And for some reason there is one more week of school at Simon's Rock, and everyone will be convening in the community garden to prepare for the upcoming harvest. I am all unshaven and covered in dirt and wearing grungy clothes but I feel so alive, and I am greeted by Vlad and I say hello to Mathias, but then we all put down are tools and crowd into a bright, sterile classroom, and we start talking about th science of the plants. A teacher is at the white board, and Vlad volunteers to take over and share a bit of his knowledge and writes up the word "Lysopageus" and asks if anyone knows the meaning, and I take a guess when no one else does, and say it must be the act of soap breaking down the dirt on the plants, or something brekaing something since the root "lyso" has a meaning akin to "break" in Greek, but I wasn't exactly correct, because it was actually a PARTICLE produced in the process of soap breaking down dirt, and Vlad explained that the word "pageus" gives this away since it is like "Pagan" which means "Godless" and particles are Godless or without spirit since they are crude matter...
But this didn't last, and the guy I met at this music festival was creeping me out so I ran home and went to sleep, and my mom kept shouting at me to wake up. I was sleeping on the couch in the living room and my dad started walking towards the coffee table and began shrinking. I was like "Oh my, dad is a dwarf or soemthing!" and my mom says, "no, it is just an optical illusion caused by the position of the table! now wake up!" and shed began to pull on me and tell me about grandma getting in the shower and it was then that I realized I was no longer dreaming, but damn me if I got up then!
Current Location: An apartment in Moscow
Current Mood:

melancholy
Current Music: Project Pitchfork- Io

May 29th, 2006

11:30 am - Dumbfounded by Light in the Sirens' Dark Lair
Yesterday I went to the Renaissance festival with Sydney. Nothing out of the usual... we rode the wild boar and this tiny girl next to me almost puked and the ride operator subtly teased me for my knee-high fishnets and saying "alas," saw an outrageously trashy and yet histerical comedy routine, got hit on by one of those awkward "goth" kids, and observed the motley crowd of workers and attendees with interest. This is geek/freakville but it is stationed in the boondocks, so you have a slew of D&D folks and practitioners of Paganism mingling with fat Buds and American flag tatoos. It is marvelous, but it seems to be getting more commercial every year. And it is sponsored by Nashville's Top 40 radio station as well as, God forbid, Fox News. Ha. Typical. I bought silver devil horns and this cane with a cobra head and a dagger built in (slightly nerdy but elegant, I reckon I can pull it off). I smoked while driving for the first time on the way back. It's harder than in looks, especially when you are trying really hard not to leave any traces of ash in your mother's van.

That evening my mom and my sister and I went out for Mexican. My mom got all slap-happy on Margaritas and wasn't ready to go home, so I showed her my favorite drive along the river, and my sister and I kept sticking our heads out of the sun roof. This eventually led us to Pennington Elementary, the school I attended from Kindergarten through 2nd grade, and my sister from Kindergarten through 1st grade. We drove to the back of the school to see the playground... I had not seen that playground in a DECADE. I got out and began to re-live the past, the pine trees with lumpy roots that formed grooves... we played house here... and the strange cylindrical thing that we would ride on and pretend to be going to Chuckie Cheese or Discovery Zone, and the Jungle Gym... could I still swing upside down? Maybe? Yes, but with less agility... and the balance beams, three in a row, each getting thinner and higher off the ground... Kaylee Nordin sat here with her head on Justin's shoulder and I thought "how does she do it?" and I knew what it was to be "popular" or not despite never having any exposure to media that defined such ideas, it was purely instinctual to me. And the swings, still the best swings ever, only they seemed shorter now, and could I still see the Batman Building (the Bellsouth tower) in the distance? Yes. And everything is like it was ten years ago, the same colors, the same amount of rust, perhaps the paint is more chipped, still no tether balls on the lonesome polls, still clovers in bounty, one jungle gym was removed, but all else is the same. This is incredibly eerie, and it does not seem too far off, it doesn't seem like much time has passed at all.

Oh, and y'all have to take this ridiculous quiz I made. This is the ultimate indicator of boredom:

http://quizfarm.com/test2.php?q_id=196028
Current Location: The Couch
Current Mood:

missing people
Current Music: Pink Floyd- Dark Side of the Moon

May 22nd, 2006

01:15 am - Because it is a fun way to waste the early morning...
Spell your name backwards: Gnoladnih Nna Ylime
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Have you ever had a song written about you: My dad has written a few songs about me
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What song makes you cry: "Same Deep Water" the Cure
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What song makes you happy: "Stand and Deliver" Adam and the Ants, "Bad Trash" Switchblade Symphony
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What's your all time fav. song?: "Non-stop Violence" Apoptygma Berzerk
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What do you listen to before you go to sleep: Vicky Neville Lullabyes sometimes, my regular music, more often nothing
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Height: about 5'5
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Hair color: black with about three inches of faded pink/brown roots and a bit a blonde poking up
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Piercings: ears and nose
*
Tattoos: none

Right Now . . .
*
What color pants are you wearing: White pajamas with really gaudy purple/blue kitty print
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What song are you listening to: "Eclipse" Apoptygma Berzerk
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What taste is in your mouth?: the metallic flavor of flesh scrubbed too hard
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Whats the weather like?: Warm, balmy, breezy, and simply delightful
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How are you?: Don't ask me that because I don't have an answer.
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Get motion sickness? if I try to read
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Have a bad habit?: popping my knuckles, playing with this one obnoxious tooth, and many other little things like that
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Get along with your parents?: most of the time
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Boyfriend/girlfriend: no
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Have a current crush: I don't even remember, probably. None from this universe though.
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Have a big regret: Buying this guy shoes and wrapping them in silver paper and putting them on his desk, getting revenge by publicizing a secret AIM chat room conversation, doing certain things to fit in, and in general revealing stuff I ought to have kept to myself

Favorite . . .

TV show: Bloopies Buddies, that shit was right on
*
Conditioner: I don't use conditioner
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Book: "Fabric of the Cosmos" Brian Green
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Non alchohol drink: root beer, Fuze tea, fruit tea, rose tea
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Alchohol drink: chocolate martini
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Things to do on the weekend: vegetate, perhaps go out by myself or with family or friends, mostly do shit like this

Have You Ever . . .

Broken the law: oh yes
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Ran away from home: I have physically run from my house
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Snuck out of the house: to do something my parents would disapprove of? no
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Ever gone skinny dipping: yes
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Made a prank phone call: many times
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Tipped over a portapotty: what sort of sick bastard would do that?
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Used your parents credit card: too many times
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Skipped school before: of course
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Fell asleep in the shower/bath: no, thank God
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Been in a school play: I was in "Annie" with some friends
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Had children: no
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Been in love: yes, only three or four times I'd say
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Had a hard time getting over someone: yeah
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Been hurt: of course, I'm human

Random . . .

Have a job: not yet, although I'm applying for one this summer
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Your cd player has what in it right now: Assemblage 23- Storm
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If you were a crayon, what color would you be?: glittery black
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What makes you happy? Getting obsessed with some fictional world and then inundating myself with it, food, candy, alcohol, making love, composing music, writing stories, using my imagination, playing "the game" and acting all cracked-out with old friends
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The next CD you're going to buy: Johnny Cash or Bob Marley, or if I'm feeling less adventurous then Apoptygma Berzerk

When/What Was the Last . . .

You got a real letter: A card from my grandmother some time ago, other than this I almost never receive letters, it sucks
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got an email: I constantly get emails
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thing you purchased: Icon of Coil- Uploaded and Remixed
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TV program you watched: What Not to Wear (parents were watching it)
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Movie you saw in the theaters: Pink Panther I think
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Hugged: my sister
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song heard: Apoptygma Berzerk- Eclipse
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Place you were [ besides home ]: my friend Sydney's house
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Phonecall: Sydney
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You were depressed: this evening
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You were in the hospital: like, the ER? 5 years old (I fell off my bunk bed)

What Comes to Mind When You Hear . . .

car: sex
murder: magnifying glass
cape: Zorro
cell: sensuous secretary
shoe: brown leather
fun: pigtails
crush: blushing
music: hoards of wannabes
chalk: black kids on Sesame Street

FIRSTS

First screen name: titansdragon
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First piercing: Ears at age 10
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First credit card: never had one, only debit
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First crush: my mom claims that it was Donald Duck, I think it was a girl in my pre-school class named Kimberly, but the first acknowledged crush was Jeremy Smith who was a first-grader I met on the bus in Kindergarten
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First love: Joshua Blaise Leners
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First mutual love: Don't know if I ever had one
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First enemy: A girl in Pre-K named Joselyn
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First concert: NSYNC

LASTS

Last movie seen: Corpse Bride
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Last food consumed: Spumoni ice cream
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Last CD played: Icon of Coil- Uploaded and Remixed
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Last annoyance: my dad sleeping on the sofa
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Last soda drank: Coke yesterday
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Last ice cream eat: your grammar needs work
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Last time scolded: my sister, for not coming the moment she demanded my presense
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Last website visited: Fandango
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I AM: a conscious something or ratherness, ready to strangle the creator of this thing
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I WANT: to be loved, more action in my life
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I HAVE: plenty to be thankful for, too much stuff, two thumbs, a bottle of lemon Dasani
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I WISH: upon stars and dandelions and pennies in fountains
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I HATE: nothing, I haven't the energy for such ardent passions
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I FEAR: truckers, the possibility of a slow and painful death
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I HEAR: the soothing whir of the computer, rain pattering on the roof, my cat purring, the *
loud clicking of computer keys
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I WONDER: when I am going to sit down and learn the Cyrillic alphabet like my grandma insists I should
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I ACHE: for more excitment
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I ALWAYS: undergo cellular respiration
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I AM NOT: callous
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I DANCE: on the street at midnight, to relieve tension, with people I love
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I SING: while driving, only in public when drunk or on stage, to relieve tension
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I CRY: when all the little things add up
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I AM NOT ALWAYS: reckless or uptight
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I WRITE: frequently, when I feel so inclined, poems, songs, screenplays, vignettes, essays, electronic journal entries, everything
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I WIN: Latin and science awards, haven't won anything in a while though
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I LOSE: my integrity, my ignorance, my passion for math and science
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I CONFUSE: many and myself
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I NEED: understanding and appreciation and a good time-out
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I SHOULD: be outside enjoying the fine weather

YES or NO:

YOU KEEP A DIARY: yes, several
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YOU LIKE TO COOK: yes
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YOU HAVE A SECRET YOU HAVE NOT SHARED WITH ANYONE? Just one. It is not serious at all though.
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WANT TO GET MARRIED: eventually
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THINK YOURE A HEALTH FREAK: health conscious
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LIKE THUNDERSTORMS: very much
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EYE COLOR: brown, I've given up on the slightly hazel left-eye theory
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BIRTHPLACE: Hacienda Heights, Los Angeles, CA

FAVORITES

NUMBER: 42 39 13

COLOR: silver
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DAY: Friday
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SEASON: Spring
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MILK, DARK OR WHITE CHOCOLATE: Milk chocalate

IN THE LAST 24 HRS, HAVE YOU...

CRIED? no
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HELPED SOMEONE? yes, I brought in the groceries and clean-up after my sister
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BOUGHT SOMETHING? no
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GOTTEN SICK? if you count a mild hangover and severe cramps and dehydration, bad combination of botherations to wake you in the middle of night, or day rather
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GONE TO THE MOVIES? no
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GONE OUT FOR DINNER? no
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SAID 'i love you'?: no, maybe I should
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WRITTEN A REAL LETTER: in the last 24 hours? you expect a lot from me
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TALKED TO AN EX?: no
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WRITTEN IN A JOURNAL?: yes
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HAD A SERIOUS TALK?: no
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MISSED SOMEONE? yes
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HUGGED SOMEONE? yes
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FOUGHT WITH A FRIEND? no

WOULD YOU EVER:

Eat a bug? sure, depending on the bug
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Bungee jump?: yes
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Kill someone?: never
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Parachute from a plane? definitely
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Walk on hot coals? what's the prize?
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Go out with someone for their looks? not exclusively
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Be a vegetarian? I tried that and I turned into a twig
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Wear plaid with stripes? possibly, but not probably
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IM a stranger? I don't enjoy doing that so much
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Sing Karaoke? in a special circumstance maybe
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Get drunk? certainly
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Shoplift? I have, but never will again
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Run a red light? not intentionally
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Star in a porn video? heck no
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Dye your hair blue? I've done it, could do it again
*
Be on Survivor? that used to be one of my dreams, but no, reality TV is bunco
*
Wear makeup in public?: yes
*
Not wear makeup in public? yes
*
Cheat on a test? yeah, but nothing too serious... like filling in a bubble or two from a previous section on the SAT
*
Make someone cry? I will say/do what I deem necessary, and people will react as they will
*
Date someone more than 10 years older than you? certainly
*
Stay up all night? I have fallen asleep/woken up during every single hour of the day, of course I've stayed up all night, I reckon I do a 3rd of my life

NuMbEr .. :
*
Of times your name has appeared in a newspaper? I am not sure, if we're talking a big-time newspaper (as opposed to a newsletter) then probably once or twice
*
Of scars on your body? I counted five, including my belly-button

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE:

funny? in the right company, it's usually a "oh, you're so funny" sort of funny
*
friendly? usually, when I'm not feeling shy or distracted
*
loveable? to some
*
caring? those I care about I care about deeply, otherwise I can be either caring or negligent
*
sweet? no
*
dorky? pretty much

FAVORITE:

actor/actress: Joaquin Phoenix, Ralphe Fiennes
*
least favorite day: they all look the same right now, but during the school year it would have to be Sunday
*
flower: rose
*
jello flavor: red, cause it feels like your busting gelatinous rubies
*
jewelry: earrings
*
summer/winter: summer, winter is beautiful but it brings down my mood

PERSON WHO LAST:

slept in your bed besides you: my business
*
saw you cry: same person

HAVE YOU EVER:

said i love you and meant it? yes
*
went out in public in pjs? yes
*
been to new york? yes, to see the opera "Don Giovanni"
*
to california? I lived there for the first five years of my life

WHEN WAS:

last cigarrete: Wednesday
*
last cry: two Thursdays ago
*
last book read: Evil: Inside Human Violence and Cruelty
*
last beverage drank: Lemon Dasani
*
showered: this evening
*
last shoes worn: my studded boots
*
last word spoken: bed
*
last sleep: today until evening
*
last IM: Zowiey
*
last ice cream eaten: Spumoni
*
last time wanting to die: today (I was in a good deal of pain)
Current Location: Following the Silent Hedges
Current Mood:

bored
Current Music: The Self-Sifting Litterbox

May 21st, 2006

12:37 am - Krinkle Cut Blend
Yesterday was great. I had stayed awake through the previous night (having slept until evening that day) and managed to keep myself up until evening, and so now I am back on a "normal" sleeping schedule. I ran full circle in a week. That's a record, and I am bound to do it again.

Anyways, yesterday was great. I took my mom to work and drove around in the van listening to Apoptygma Berzerk with the air conditioner on full blast like I did this time a year ago. Breakfast at Panera was boring, but then I visited my high school. It is strange being called Emily by casual acquaitances. These visits get less rewarding every time because I am so out of touch with people, and I just don't know how to respond when people ask me how I've been and what I've been doing. I just say the usual: I'm alive, it was a hard year but I'm feeling all right now, how are things around here? Boring routine. I wish I could think of something better to talk about, and whenever I do someone else comes up and interrupts the conversation. Whatever.

I then went to good ol' Opry Mills Mall to buy the Clone Wars cartoons from Tower. I don't know why I spend my cash on this sort of rubbish from overpriced vendors, but I am neither a bargain hunter nor tech savvy. I usually get my music used, but with the industry taking such a hit I don't mind purchasing brand new, factory-sealed items from time to time. Not that Star Wars or Cartoon Network has taken a hit. But Tower Records has, so there. I like buying new things because they have that crisp, manufactured quality that I find aesthetically appealing in some perverse way. I like really old things too, especially old books that are broken in and yellowed. I am hard-pressed to figure out whether or not I prefer any one particular quality to another. I had a conversation with Kitty Snyder one time: she said she that she has very acute instinct, and given two items she can immediately choose which one she likes more, which one is closer to "right," so to speak. I told her that I could never do this, because I don't have a absolute standard for or sense of "right." A tattered coonskin cap or a glitzy pink make-up box? Tropical island or glacier or abandoned warehouse? Black velvet and lace or floral pattern? I like everything, only in isolation, and this is frustrating because there is nothing I hate more than CLASH. But do I really hate clash? No, sometimes chaos appeals more than harmony. Fortunately, this aethestic confusion does not bother me so much anymore. I have learned to live at peace with the fact that things intermingle and interrelate even though they might not "get along" in my mind, and even though the Apple Computer manual looks unsightly besides the old photo albums I need not stress about it or worry about the fact that they are both beautiful to me.

My ability to find beauty in everything has caused me to despise many things, because they all seem at war with each other. Ultimately, I will train myself not to design conflicts that do not exist and to give everything the appreciation it is due. Sometimes, though, I think I give appreciation where it is not due.

We as a species thrive on conflict. When all our vital needs are met, then comes social turbulence. At Simon's Rock and at my high school for that matter, there is a lot of tolerance, open-mindedness, and affection (relatively speaking... no human haven is perfect). I feel accepted, I am not teased, I have many friends, why am I not content? Because I thrive on conflict, and my subconcious will find conflict somewhere, and it will be a clash of ideals... ideals that are attached to aesthetics and my peers. I end up demonizing groups of people for no good reason but for the fact that their ways and their ideals conflict with some (not all, but some) of my aesthetic preferences.

And this is so bad. This is one bad thing about our education: in history classes and English classes we learn to lump and clump and stereotype. The Romantics say this and the Communists think this and then we analyze documents to show our knowledge! "Well, so-and-so is saying that he really likes this one building in St. Petersburg, so he must be a Westernizer, so he must also sbe a liberated aristocrat who wants to limit the powers of the Orthodox Church and he probably wears a top-hat too." Faulty logic, but teachers seem to like it (but only if we replace all "musts" with "mays").

I am an organized person. I am fond of boxes. Lots of people don't want to be "put in a box" or "pigeon-holed" or whatever. See, I like boxes, and I want to find a box, but can't. And people don't fit into boxes, and when I try to make them fit I just get pissed off at them for not fitting. I get pissed off at myself for not settling in one box and for trying to shove people into boxes with ideas and items and colors and all sort of things. Here is the "liberal, vintage, marijuana, socialist, flowers, vegetarian, hiking, bumblebees, vinyl, Simon's Rock" box and here is the "capitalist, twinkies, technology, silver, plastic, factory-sealed, exploitation, military, free-trade, eletronic music" box. It fucking doesn't work, it is idiotic, and the fact that I (and almost everyone else I bet) love things from both boxes has driven me mad for no good reason. One day, I'll pull people out of the boxes and learn to love them and get to know them as individuals. Then, I'll pull ideas out ot the boxes, and then I'll just squash the damn boxes. But I can't do that in a day; these notions are engrained in some subliminal level of my subconscious.

I've been fighting a non-existant war because I am depressed and need to find some excuse for my frustration. I think too hard, and come to these realizations and the light goes on: I've got some real shit, but I think a lot of people have this shit, they just don't analyze it to pieces. And by analyzing my shit I cause it to morph and mutate and become more ominous than it really is. I'm just lonely and feel strange. I like tap-water best, I prefer ham to turkey, I am wearing Tommy jeans but I just really want a tri-corn hat, and I have become so shy despite years of getting up on stage, taking extreme social risks, and entertaining my girl friends at parties with my uninhibited eccentricity. I am too much of a social butterfly. I like different types of people, and I enjoy experiencing different cultures and exposing myself to different world views.

Emily, this is not a bad thing. Get over yourself. What an egocentric entry this is.

Of course, I need work. I caught myself eyeing a Boba Fett wrist-band at Hot Topic yesterday. That is no way to express your love of Star Wars, I reminded myself, and moved on. There is hope, yes, there is hope.
Current Location: 2119 Guaranty Dr.
Current Mood:

listless
Current Music: Icon of Coil

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May 18th, 2006

03:25 am - Yellow
Melancholy yellow doesn’t smile anymore.
The gleeful golden rose was squashed flat
Between a pea-coat and a saffron sofa
And now it’s flaccid, fancy that.

It was a Mother’s Day gift forgotten
For no faded yellow towel can soak up Mama’s tears
So long as the floor remains saturated with yellow piss
From a wayward cat times three plus thirteen years.

Woebegone yellow will never whistle again.
Wan yellow light courts the nauseous yellow noise
Drifting silkily through the sultry twilight haze
From a ferry boat shaving the Cumberland shore
Oh, General Jackson, play back the golden days of yore!
And stir the soul of Music City to a queasy state of ease
And heal the heart of one forlorn
Turning yellow in sobriety...

A vision of the retching river tide
And the resolute ferry wheel, chugging, chugging
Steadily churning the murky waters
Lurching like the humors that dictate my mood…
Growing more stale and yellow with brine
Not at all satisfied by scant dregs of wine
Scant yellow dregs from the bottom of a bottle of my parents’ Chardonnay

Did they serve you milk and glistening honey?
I should like a golden treat from God...
Did some sanctified ambrosia, some hallowed nectar pass me by
When I jumped the gun and got the hell back to the road in due time?
Perhaps too soon (oh Lord, too soon)
I left to serenade the moon (in her ghastly glory, the yellow moon!)
Of course I was rendered a wretched buffoon...

But what I need now is gin
And yellow orange juice and that yellow cassette
But my yellow-skinned companions haven’t the means.
Did you hear? Xiao-Yu is going out with Eugene
They’re been at it for a month (but they haven’t kissed?)
No, of course not (now that’s real yellow, holy shit).

A quarter of a Kamel Red remains for a hit.
The hardest hit I’ll ever take
And the yellow sparks fly out
Soon Mama will return with my sister
Having made some thoughtless mistake (no doubt)
Her sour yellow voice is excruciating to the tensed-up air
Causing Mama’s sallow, yellow skin to contort into a glare
Already taut and ashen from a torrent of tears
And a wayward daughter times two plus seventeen years
And it will screw up further in concentration
When she fixes her eyes on the liquid crystal screen

And let us hope that Teddy has been scrubbed squeaky clean
Let him scintillate, gargling suds
Let not one spot of yellow remain
But for the yellow tiles like yellow tikes wallowing in mud.
Current Location: Floating in Retrospect
Current Mood:

determined
Current Music: A Lone Train Issuing a Tritone

May 17th, 2006

03:26 am - Viceroy's Tiara
Hot damn, she's a wench, a beautiful wench albeit but a wench nevertheless.

Internet, internet, you're raining on my peace! (But rain IS peaceful) That's beside the point, dimwit.

Should I stay in touch with reality, or immerse myself in Star Wars? I can not change that which does not exist, and I won't go INSANE trying to influence that which can not be influenced. There is no power struggle, but hella bad hangovers... like when we were 12 year old girls laughing and giggling about Harry Potter and shit only to realize that, lo and fucking behold, it is all make believe. And then we feel awful because that which is "real" (but who can trust the idea of "real" anymore anyhow) fails to entice, and even if it does entice, it inspires a power struggle, and power struggles are a real drag. So, power struggle or bad hangovers? Ah shit shit shit.

I reveal too much. I am hidden but my heart is on my sleeve, always, and I need to hide away. Don't put to text for the world what you would not shout aloud... why haven't I learned discretion? I will regret my sincerity someday, why can't a wield an intricate facade like everyone else? Good God, smite this medium by which I too readily divulge everything, and damn the English language however delightful it may be, and damn emotions, all for one and one for all, I have never felt so tangential and so lost... at home and I was feeling safe and secure again, until, alas, I got the urge to get on the fucking internet, and was reminded of everything, who should I sorely miss? I do not get attatched easily, and I miss few, and people seem to miss each other, but I welcome the break from everyone, and I miss so few despite all the compassion and appreciation I am sure I have for many, and this scared my room mate, she thought I was sub-human or something when I told her I missed none of my high school friends, and that my new friends were as precious to me as them, and she took this to be some form of insincerity, but I miss my cats I said, it is the whole home package, the security, but now that I am back I am afraid and my mother and my sister fight like mad bitches and my father? why did I have to tell him everything? I end up telling everything in a flash because I am a COMMUNICATOR and damn it why don't I just shut up for once? I need to stop telling everyone everything. Some things are just better unsaid, even if the party appreciates my confidence and respects my desire, my need, to confide... but I end up hurting myself, because I reveal all in a world where everyone is hiding stuff away. And I am doing it now.

I'm not addicted to cigarettes. Here is a plus. I will not become a smoker next year. But I might become an alcoholic, and here is a greater danger. Moderation. I am a person of extremes. I hate having one foot in the boat and another on the shore. But perhaps it's not like that... metaphors are pernicious little bastards... they twist scenarios, for I just made a perfectly healthy lifestyle seem like a potential disaster. No. Moderation is good, and you need to find peace and satisfaction in moderation, because God knows that extremes will only foster frustration and confusion.
Current Location: Office at Home
Current Mood:

nervous
Current Music: Computer Fan Whirring

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May 15th, 2006

02:38 am - Letter B
The Beatles:
My first exposure to the Beatles was actually a Sesame Street parody of "Let it Be" called "Letter B." The band was a bunch of muppet beetles. I didn't know that the real song was "Let it Be" until many, many years later. Most of my peers are pretty familiar with the Beatles. I recognize the songs but don't really know the words since I never went through a "Beatles" phase. I am stunned by the brilliance of the music and lyrics though, and should probably get to know the music better even though it isn't my sort of thing. I've become more picky about music because I am VERY sensitive to light and sound, especially music, which is sound refined to have to most intense effect on the human brain. I've been turned off to many types of music because of memories and the emotional responses involved.

Benji:
This movie scared the shit out of me when I was four. All I remember is a dog cage going down a conveyor belt, a bad guy running around after the cage, and freaky music. Everything frightened me when I was little. I am no less sensitive now than I was then, but because I now have a deeper understanding of things, that which once inspired fear now inspires fascination. This is not always healthy.

Berkshires:
Oh, Berkshires, all in bloom. Nashville has already plummeted through Spring. It looks like a rain forest here it's so green. Up in the Berkshires the seasons are prolonged (perhaps winter is longer than I would have it). What do I think of? The humming of the generator while walking from the DAC in the warmth of August, or the Autumn berries in the bush besides the swing, or bloody tissues and my Darth Vader thermos and my Music Theory melodies, or Frank Sinatra and the perfect snowball I stored on the roof of Kendrick for some unknowing November admiree, or my ivy-print skirt scraping the snow of the path to the Mods, or my fuzzy red earmuffs and the scent of pipe tobacco, or Don Giovanni and erecting the Reverend Jean-Paul and dancing with the little Austrian princess perfumed with patchouli, or the nasty smell of beer all over my jacket and Disney songs and a girl who wouldn't heed me she was so drunk and obsessed with tending the fire, or the early zephyrs of spring and a distant corn field with a new friend and a brightly lit room scented of mangoes and marijuana, or the blossoms and the Camel Reds and half-assed papers that gave way to rain the final dances and the final pains when I finally discovered at long last that despite all the flirting and failed and successful pursuits that I loved but one that I loved but one and I would go to any extreme to let it be known and have him once again... and now I apply the Goethean Method to the year and I laugh at the lack of continuity, all culminating to a thousand kisses and a wild, epic ending to an epic era of my life.

Benjamin Franklin:
I had a crush on him in 5th grade. 'Nuff said.

Bela Lugosi's Dead:
Undead undead undead. The unofficial anthem on the Goth scene. "B" also for Bauhaus, the band who did the song (and an incredible art movement I might add). Tonight I am going to dress up like a vampire, black lipstick and fake fangs and all, and dance to this song by candlelight like in days of yore. But this time it will be a farce of sorts and not some pathetic pre-teen attempt to convince myself that I am a genuinely insane child of darkness.

Blubber Mouth:
I invented this term when I was really young (my sister and I had a lexicon of our own). It's the bagginess formed by pants that don't fit, more noticeable with leggings and khakis than jeans and occurring most frequently on children. Front blubber mouths were the worst.

Binns:
The ghost teacher in Harry Potter. In the movie he is shown wearing 18th century attire, and I'm like, damn that's sexy. Sure, he's boring, but he is a ghost and he teaches history. That's pretty rad. I think I'd really dig that class.

Bartholomew:
The apostle for whom the church I have been attending for 12 years was named. He was skinned alive. I used to imagine myself in situations that tested my faith... how far would I go? Would I be strong and suffer as they did? Would I allow myself to be crucified upside down like Peter or burned at the stake like Joan of Arc? Like, this seriously frightened me as a pre-teen. I remember prodding at the fire in the fireplace... my fascination with fire made me uneasy, because I thought it foreshadowed how I might die. I had already adopted Joan of Arc as my patron saint, and I thought that God had chosen me out. I fancied that I had seen visions, that I was called the "save the world," to find a cure for some dreadful disease in the name of the Lord. So, I figured I was immortal until I had left my mark, but once I did leave my mark, how would I go? Would I die some horrible death as a martyr, or would I back down, a coward? Fortunately, this doesn't trouble me anymore. My convictions are shaky if present at all.

Brat:
My sister.

Beautiful:
Tears pouring from bloodshot eyes. A small cut on very pink lips. I must drive this image out of my mind.
Current Location: A Couch in the Sunroom
Current Mood:

reflective
Current Music: Assemblage 23- Storm

May 11th, 2006

07:13 am - Omfg. Wtf?
Home. Death. A Swarm of Killer Bees.
Used. (Say what?) Energizer batteries.
Current Location: Crossing Borders
Current Mood:

indescribable
Current Music: Verita Serum (again and again and again)

May 9th, 2006

05:04 pm
When I was very young I would contemplate how I would spend one wish. It didn't take me long to realize that this one wish could be used to wish for infinite wishes, so I resolved that I would use it as such unless some sort of restriction prohibited. With two wishes, however, one could use the first to wave the restriction. That aside, I knew that such use of a wish would most likely be against the rules, so I had to pick something less ambitious... or somewhat less ambitious.

In Kindergarten, my heart's desire was a mile-high tower stocked with bags of Cheddar Sunchips. In 3rd grade, I would have wished that everyone at my school, including the teachers, would bow to me and worship me and that all the boys would crush on me.

Moving beyond primitive hedonism and the somewhat less primitive but nevertheless unsophisticated desire for social elevation, I began to yearn for that infamous trademark of Miss Americas and naive idealists... peace on Earth. And then I came the crises of pre-adolescence; I was alone in the world with my pop culture obsessions, and I only hoped that my "best friends" and guardian angels, the characters of Pokemon and Harry Potter, would be existant is some alternate universe that I could flee to.

What about now? Of course I would not wish for infinite wishes, for then I could become God. Nor would I wish for a tower of Sunchips or popularity or peace on Earth or the materialization of alternate realities. Although I would be utterly tempted to wish for the equivalent of 20 more IQ points (how that would manifest itself would be to the granter, although I would request extra work in the Visual Spatial area), I don't think I would do so. Or would I? I would never make too lofty a wish. The consequences could be dire. It is not in my place to decide what would be best for the world. Then again, any wish of mine would eventually realign the cosmos. Free will... with free will we do this constantly, but we are physically limited. So, a wish would simply be a sudden relapse of these physical limitations... and yet, this is not true at all. I am still limited to my brain. It is the structure that is my mind that makes the final choice (and I don't give choice too much credence anyways... it seems to be an illusion). So, if there is not such thing as free will then any wish of mine would simply be a part of the natural progression of things... only with a slight "glich" in the system, given that I, as a limited conscious being, suddenly possessed ulimited power (more or less... I'm still restricted to myself). If free will DOES exist, then by making a wish I would no more fuck up the grand order than if I chose to eat cake instead of ice-cream. I suppose I could fuck up the order more quickly, but no, Spacetime is the absolute, not time, so what would it matter? Even if I wished for the fuckinazation of Spacetime, would not the "past" as I know it remain? And were I to fuck up the past, I would not exist to request the past's fuckinazation. This is fruitless.

I would wish for my mother to be able to open a children's bookstore.

Or would I?
Current Location: On a Pole (damn, my wit's shot)
Current Mood:

pleased
Current Music: Alien Sex Fiend- The Singles

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May 8th, 2006

03:33 am - Fire in Cairo
Odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?
nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.
Current Location: Approaching Equilibrium
Current Mood:

sick
Current Music: Someone's Voice Resounding

May 5th, 2006

08:15 am - Haunted by Three Spirits
So, it seems that some people have beef with me because they think I am sleeping with or am trying to seduce their girls. Well, you know what my lovelies, I'm not sleeping with ANYONE so FUCK OFF.

Holly: I'll never let anyone put me in a cage!
Paul: I don't want to put you in a cage, I wanna love you.
Holly: Same thing!
Paul: No it's not, Holly--
Holly: I'm not Holly! I'm not Lula Mae either. I don't know who I am. I'm like Cat here. We're a couple of no-name slobs. We belong to nobody, and nobody belongs to us. We don't even belong to each other.
Paul: You know what's wrong with you, Miss whoever-you-are? You're chicken. You've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, 'Okay. Life's a fact. People do fall in love. People do belong to each other.' Because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness. You call yourself a free spirit, a wild thing, and you're terrified somebody's gonna stick you in a cage. Well Baby, you're already in that cage -- you built it yourself. And it's not bounded on the west by Tulip, Texas or on the east by Somaliland. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.
Current Location: Limbo and descending
Current Mood:

cold
Current Music: Joy Division- Closer

01:41 am - Heart and Soul... one will burn, one will burn
I am in so much pain right now. My head is throbbing like whoa nelly. I want candy.

Displays of tantalizing mimicry
The tell-tale mime looks like a clown
Eye-brows arched mischievously
I twirl the stillborn sparks between us ‘round and ‘round
My frosty left hand.

A pantomime of my design
You only repeat what is shown
With goofy grin hiding havoc within
You refuel a fire once prematurely sown
Just by flailing your arms.

No ambition teems beneath the blue
And grimy gold in disarray
The love of the chase has abated of late
But you can’t say no to anything, let come what may
(Do you fall every time?)

Not enough stamina for creation
Nor strong enough will for initiation
Instead there is cold passivity
And reckless spontaneity
So pardon my noxious gimmickry
‘Twas inspired by charming mimicry.
Current Location: On the ground without diamonds
Current Mood:

pissed off
Current Music: Igor Stravinksi- Rite of Spring

May 2nd, 2006

08:38 pm - A Tragic Mask in a Box
In the library. Never noticed it until today.

It isn't cold enough to see my breath. Controlled experiment. Exhaling thrice to expel the smoke. The bell is alarming, and always rings five times. It should toll the hour. It's covered with white streaks, and the lamp glows through white flowers, evoking an eerie nostalgia... spring nights of yore... and this time I have a manufactured clove cigarette, instead of one I made out of notebook paper and stuff from the spice cupboard four years ago, wishing to enhance the experience, as if the scent of blossoms and the random yet steady flickering of lightning bugs wasn't enough. There are no lightning bugs here.

Someone is sitting alone in the Calculus room. The lights are off. I seldom encounter people who go about their business with the lights off, and I am curious to find out who it is. It must be my soul mate. I realize that it is Nick Frazier... Nick Frazier, whose throat-clearing noises, so obtrusive in class, still inspire warm sentiments when heard in somber solitude. His kindness is innocent and selfless, and in spite of his awkwardness I have much respect for him.

I spy a sequin in the soil. It's like smoking marijuana from an iced-out hookah. An understated oxymoron.

I slept for fourteen hours last night. Could I have possibly hit the snooze button every ten minutes for six hours? Phantasmagorical dreams... the same image haunts me... oh, such futile futile ambitions trouble me day and night. I will soon retreat to my room in Tennessee to relish the safety and mourn the not acheived.

I played racquetball this evening because Boot Camp was canceled (same as last week). Sometimes the ball would bounce off the wall and then form trajectories thin and tall... it would not return to me, because as the number of bounces goes to infinity (hypothetically) the distance from the wall approaches a limit as the width of the arch goes to zero. Finally there is some beauty to all the gobbledygook that Allen Altman scrawls on the chalk board. But this doesn't change the fact that, after an exhausting round, I have to walk forward several feet to pick up the damn thing.
Current Location: Pastime Paradise
Current Mood:

contemplative
Current Music: Depeche Mode-- Black Celebration

May 1st, 2006

05:15 pm - Treat or Tricking in July, Making Love in June
An old friend has come to call: the Muse of Romantic poetry (and the reaquaintance is so awkward).

Treat or tricking in July
Making love in June
Forget the funerals in May
The anti-harvest moon
A beakon in the darkling sky
So April cast her lot
The stakes were raised by Februere
And August took the pot
He's got the pot
Ain't got the crack
And so My Lady flees the scene
I'll leave October to an eightball
Turned by January green
It will be so, however queer
November rains will call the blooms
From barren soils of September
'Till the gambling resumes.

That was strange.

Ah, shucks, I meant IODINE IN CHLOROFORM. And hydrocyanic fumes, better known as Zyklone B.

Alex Barrett found a fish in the pond that had perished of late. Blood was oozing from its gills. She had a little show-and-tell session around the library. I collected stray ducks, which I will deliver to the mailboxes of their owners. I enjoy relating the minutiae of a pleasant day. It is a good alterantive to foolishly spilling my soul to a more or less mysterious audience. But I don't really spill my soul, just parts of it that are not special enough to be locked up. I remember when I was about four years old I was taking a bath with my cousin, and she refused to share her toys because they were "special." I resented that I could not touch her "My Little Pony." I never had garish toys like that... I had blocks and paint kits and paper dolls. I should have come out an earth kid with that formula (in fact, Earth Day celebrations were a big time annual treat). I don't know what kind of kid I turned out to be.

It collides with light (oh, smack!)
Bespeckled wall, white smeared on black
Lord, I never so so WHACK a spectacle!

But it did not catch my eye
Until the hundredth day passed by
The sated orb was wont to dwell upon the tiles...

Such inscrutable designs (beige and gray squares)
I visualize Malaysian daycares
And yellow tikes that yell and quarrel.

The glare abrasive strikes my limbs
A penalty for wicked whims
And then it shatters in the ripples of the pool
(But, oh, how cruel!)
For the middle of the pond remains in shade...

Why should is be denied delight?
Peripheral waters, sparkling bright
A'shimmering, aye, with no desire for respite!

Now the silhouette takes form
A writhing omen ominous
The dew-drop dangling o'er the blithe, unknowing lake
Blast! Was a fated to partake
In deprivation? (Peter's sake!)
Am I depraved of just misled?
Perhaps this wasn't a mistake
The phallic wraith has reared its head
Is this a warning I should heed?
Current Location: The Computer Lab: Yorick
Current Mood:

good
Current Music: The Essential Adam Ant (and it's skipping like a mofo)

07:46 am - Bobcat Joe is Dead
Holy shit, what happened to the night? It was evening, and now it's morning. Somewhere in there I wrote a paper... the last two pages had something to do with the delights of sadism and the beauty of corruption verses the pure and wholesome joy of genuine love in The Narrative of Frederick Douglass; the first two pages lamented my own obscene mentality and aesthetic preferences.

Why am I not studying for my Chemistry test? I drank so much tea for it was the only stimulant at hand, and now I'm all jittery and can't focus a wink.

CYANIDE IN CHLOROFORM! (What a spectacle!)
Current Location: I've run out of ideas.
Current Mood:

weird
Current Music: My boot thumping on the floor.