| Tuesday, January 5th, 2010 |
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ragtime tin pan alley jazz folklorist mid 1700s-1979, 2010 = where i want to be (mentally) a great intellectual, romantic, meta digestion |
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1. What did you do in 2009 that you'd never done before? started seriously writing 2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year? generally when people collectively take part in something i have a strong desire to do the opposite 3. Did anyone close to you give birth? no 4. Did anyone close to you die? not close, i was pretty sad when jesse died but his helicopter will live on, on my arm 5. What other countries did you visit? italia 6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009? more school, gotta get that europe trip 7. What date from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? i'm not sure of the date but wandering around serento, italy by myself all day was a life changing experience. it was awful and scary but i feel like i conquered a lot of demons that day. 8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? going to italy, writing a screenplay, seeing the Uffizi gallery in florence. i stumbled upon my favorite painting there, i didn't even know it was in that gallery but i came upon it towards the end of the day. it's called madona of the long neck. it will surely destroy your idea of what you think art is. 9. What was your biggest failure? writing a screenplay 10. Did you suffer illness or injury? yeah i get sick constantly, migraines are always an issue which seem to dictate a large part of my decisions, my vision is getting bad, bouts of depression 11. What was the best thing you bought? vespa bag for sarah 12. Whose behavior merited celebration? me and sarah's, everyone else is lame 13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? pretty much everyone else, cept chris and amber 14. Where did most of your money go? italy, saving for a car, filibertos 15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? MOF at the orpheum, best concert i've ever seen 16. What song(s) will always remind you of 2009? MOF - man named truth DISCOVERY - osaka loop-line VAMPIRE WEEKEND - the white sky 17. Compared to this time last year, are you: i. happier or sadder? happier ii. thinner or fatter? same iii. richer or poorer? richer 18. What do you wish you'd done more of? exercised maybe 19. What do you wish you'd done less of? thrown up after drinking (i can't hang anymore). played way too much wow 20. How will you be spending Christmas? christmas was over here, it was great :) 22. Did you fall in love in 2009? always 23. How many one-night stands? 0 24. What was your favorite TV program? mother fuckin LOST and always sunny 25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? i hate you 26. What was the best book you read? oh god so many: on the road (either accidentally or subconsciously left it in a book shelf in a flat in florence) , thus spoke: zarathustra, catcher in the rye, the heart of darkness, save the cat, the art of fiction, angels & demons (hey that book was good). 27. What was your greatest musical discoveries? discovery, fleet foxes, MOF, phoenix 28. What did you want and get? i didn't really want anything, i GOT a snuggie. which is probably the greatest invention of our time. 30. What was your favorite film of this year? synechdote, New York. charlie kauffman is in a world all his own. this year really sucked for movies. i love how no one has seen this also. it's ok though. 31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? sarah and i went to vegas and stayed at hooters. we played blackjack, got all dressed up and went to an amazing restaurant at the MGM, had the best pinot grigio i've ever come across. met up with jeri salazar, went to see her friends band play the beauty bar downtown, got in for free, got wished a happy birthday by the band, got a free cupcake, cut my hand open in the street trying to open a non twist off beer, danced around, got into an intense conversation with this guy who was selling his art-work there, i felt he was attempting to rip me off so i had to sneak out of the venue 32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? i wish that all of my friends played wow, casually. 33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009? DORKY, i'm working on it though 34. What kept you sane? sane? 35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? billy mays 36. What political issue stirred you the most? it's all just a terrible pile of garbage we've constructed here haven't we 37. Who did you miss? no one really, i get to hang with the people i'd perfer to be around. it would be cool if anthony and tammy lived closer but eh. 38. Who was the best new person you met? it's difficult to meet new people when you're incapable of having conversations. actually to be honest i have worked at my job for over 3 years and believe it or not i don't know ANYONE THERE at all. i've seen a ton of people come and go but never really spoken to anyone. when i started working from home i became friends with a few of the vpn people and we talk now it's really cool. 39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009: you cannot have a protagonist without desire 40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year: searchin' west and east and all points in between and underneath the hand of god you're there and then you're not |
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If love is supposed to be a cure, I guess I have everything backwards. I'm not looking for a cure. I don't want to be a cure. |
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| Monday, January 4th, 2010 |
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applying for school. ready for some changes. i need to be productive this year. readysetgo. |
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PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE HELP ME SPREAD THE WORD ABOUT MY NEW COMMUNITY JOURNAL, ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} ghostpains !!!AFter fantastic results from the poll I posted, I decided to be brave and make a journal specifically for my original prose and poetry. Thank you so much to everyone that gave me the support! Please join<3 |
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i tried to write but nothing came out right- there's no structure to the unstructured there's no forgetting the forgotten there's no poet in the pages I am a child Playing pretend Cleaning a house Built of feathers & glue The sun warms my home And from it I mold A feather boy & sticky heart that never parts from his sleeve A toothpick fence To grow his garden dense & a broccoli tree That talks to me By the creek I fill mom's jam jar With an ocean of creatures that I'd like to greet Our house is a nest Of the ocean crest & we wave to the tadpoles swimming the pasted strawberry field On days of breeze I ride the backs of swallows We flirt with the whales as gently they graze th'hollows Love what is young While it is mutable Touch what is as yet Untouched The old has shriveled With roots in place Deep into the Earth They're a dying race A happy hum Is more fun Than the chimes & rhymes Sounded by the dying few Mend my bend in your direction Tie me to the stake & let me grow straight into the sun I'll pose as you like Forevers alright If it means I'll never grow apart & be but severed by you |
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| Sunday, January 3rd, 2010 |
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There's a silk tree in the hospital that is home to squirrels who at nite rip out birds' throats. That's what my Grandpa says. He's suffering from dementia which will lead to alzheimers but I think it's real. All of the terrible thoughts I have seem real. They are real. I'm bringing these ugly thougths into being-it's terrifying. I know what I'm doing & I still can't stop it. If I'm to be truthful then I have to say something that i'm not going to. If my thoughts are real, then I'm already dead. i'm sitting in my own dark how many times do i have to pick myself up? is thinking "every time" its own negative thought? i can't tell real from fake i can't tell good from bad- i think this is bc nothing is real or fake or good or bad or everything is real & fake & good & bad i had a hate in me last nite that i've never felt before. the word "hate" doesn't seem strong enough bc it's such a ubiquitous word today. i can't think of anything worse than hate. i felt like i could have killed a man last nite--at some level i WANTED to-- and while the tracks went round my head i was terrified of the feeling. i was apart from the thoughts, i was conscious of the thoughts as nothing but thoughts but i couldn't understand where they were coming from- my body felt them so strongly. i feel like i'm going to lose control of my body. i feel like someone has implanted a seed into my head and i water it with each negative thought and it's pouring ugly thoughts and the lightning and thunder are making my body tremble & ache. my reponses are curt. i don't understand. i had a great christmas, the best yet, and i spent new years on the dancefloor with friends and strangers twisting & turning & laughing & acting foolish. i let something in somewhere- it seeped in or lay dormant.. no, it's not an internal energy, it's external but internalized with each bad thought and then grows and feeds and tightens round my veins, poisons my blood and flows throughout as my heart recycles. i could never tell anyone this. i could never ask for help. i feel ashamed for thinking what im thinking. i feel ashamed for crumpling up into a dark self. i need a friend. i tried last nite in a disgusting roundabout way-- he left me there in the dark, but i'm too far under to even feel anything about it. i'm afraid to type this next sentence. i don't want to put out negative but it's circling my head like a vulture and it's already just as real as it could be. there are two voices, the surface voice & the knower voice. the surface voice blabbers like a jester that nothing i do or am is beautiful; i am ugly. the knower, my essence, knows this is life fucking with my head.when i think "I AM BEAUTIFUL" i feel like a stupid inspirational book filled with pastel images of circus hearts and rainbows. I never embrace my whole "self" as beautiful- instead I say, "there are things about me that are beautiful." i let the jester take center stage in my court & that is why I am fucked up right now. In 5 minutes or 2 days it will change because it always does. I feel exhausted. does everyone have these thoughts? am i an ugly person because i have them? since i'm a person who suffers from these thoughts, i guess i can only do my best to rise above them. i want beautiful thoughts. i'm sorry. thoughts become reality. |
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| Saturday, January 2nd, 2010 |
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There is no beginning to the circle Only the pinpoint of the scientist. Well–recognized & artificial in his prodding, He is an award-winning force. The art of his science Is to paint the Earth A dry layer of objectivity, & seal motions in clear sight for study. The cyclist rides the circles & knows There are no firsts in life. Trim & healthy in his aches, Still he is a medal-detecting force. Everything is a process that everyone is in. I wonder if thoughts of death lead or follow Those periods when I forget how to breathe-- When I forget that there’s nothing before & nothing after. that’s when i hop a train of words i ride the lines and jump the periods i smooth the bumps of sentences by trailing the tops & write what pleasant actions come from the mouth of the whore But what pleasant words are saved in the virgin’s kiss? I value more those things I find in the middle of the bed, Those things I hear in the middle Of the boys’ whispers. I pinpoint the artificial, I write the waves & draw the sinking ship Before I see the calm. I need a buoy not an anchor & the breathing thinking thoughts out of thought. I need the ulcers & the tooth cravings of the mind, The dramatic people and the talking to the oneself. The reaching for the something real up her skirt & down his pants; It’s making sacred the secular anatomy of the scientist & cyclist That spins me off course. A celebrated curiosity & faces split open by a hell of cold showers & freezing breeze— Or a hell without water where one drowns in his own filth, Where dead eyes look to trace the skeletons of trees To know how bones can be twisted by the wind. I stood under front men & fall-back boys Before I stood-up his science & refused his robot dance-- Before I knew there was nothing to be understood I realized there was nothing to stand under, or understand. |
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| Friday, January 1st, 2010 |
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Poll #1506061 Semi-Important Question Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 25 If I were to make an LJ specifically for my original prose and poetry, would you be interested in it?
View Answers No way in hell Maybe, maybe not Don't care either way REALLY interested! Would you follow it/add it/etc?
View Answers Didn't I just say no? I don't care enough Why not I'd love to Would you be willing to give feebdack?
View Answers For the last time, Kels, NO! Yeah, maybe I would WANT to Yes |
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danced my way into 2010 hats off to lovely strangers & beautiful friends |
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| Thursday, December 31st, 2009 |
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| our robot cars | ||||
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Auld Lang Syne by Robert Burns Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot And auld lang syne? Chorus: For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet For auld lang syne! We twa hae run about the braes, And pu'd the gowans fine, But we've wander'd mony a weary fit Sin auld lang syne. We twa hae paidl't in the burn Frae morning sun till dine, But seas between us braid hae roar'd Sin auld lang syne. And there's a hand, my trusty fiere, And gie's a hand o' thine, And we'll tak a right guid willie-waught For auld lang syne! And surely ye'll be your pint' stowp, And surely I'll be mine, And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet For auld lang syne! Translation: Should old acquaintances be forgotten, And never brought to mind? Should old acquaintances be forgotten, And days of long ago ! Chorus: For old long ago, my dear For old long ago, We will take a cup of kindness yet For old long ago. We two have run about the hillsides And pulled the daisies fine, But we have wandered many a weary foot For old long ago. We two have paddled (waded) in the stream From noon until dinner time, But seas between us broad have roared Since old long ago. And there is a hand, my trusty friend, And give us a hand of yours, And we will take a goodwill draught (of ale) For old long ago! And surely you will pay for your pint, And surely I will pay for mine! And we will take a cup of kindness yet For old long ago! |
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friends and strangers only comment for access.  |
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You came clean this week looked me in the forehead and said, "I don't get it, you're too pretty to write poetry." So I'm going to come clean, Since obviously you have a different opinion on this than me. I feel pretty like the feeling the photographers must of had when they realized they were in the room when Elvis and Nixon shook hands. I feel pretty like the first person who walked in and saw Sylvia with her head inside an oven. I feel pretty like you thinking I can't write poetry. I'm going to come clean I think that some things are so dirty around here sometimes that when I wake up with my face half stuck, half painted to the canvas it can still make me feel all sorts of pretty. I'm going to come clean I have been all different kinds of mean in this life walked all over everything that shouldn't be walked on and loved people despite how unlucky they were, relied on nothing more than being pretty so that we could eat dinner at night. And when you said that there is such a thing as being too pretty to succeed at the only thing that makes feelings worth having, well, I'm going to come clean, I can't do anything but disagree. If you've never seen Buddy tell a story and shoot from tears right into the biggest smile you've ever seen - this poem is too pretty for you. If you've never gotten in your car and drove more than two hours to hear a person you've never met before read a poem about champagne you've got no idea what the phrase "too pretty" even means. Not knowing if that sound is the gunshots or your heart, pretty. Walking into the hotel lobby and getting drunk with the piano player at the hotel bar, pretty. Falling in love and falling out of love and falling in love again just to find out you had it right the first time, too pretty. I'm going to come clean I have been someone's one night stand way too many times. I am addicted to the feeling you get in your stomach right before something real big happens that you didn't see coming. The look on my face is sometimes, yes, pretty, but other times so broken. I am going to come clean. I run away from people who are stronger than me. I have cheated more than once, lied more than once and buried a friend more than once. I have killed so many dreams before they ever even had a chance and having my first child was just one of them. I have never told anyone the whole truth except the strangers who come to hear my poetry, so to be too pretty to get those secrets out just so it doesn't haunt me is something I'm going to take personally. I am too stubborn for my own good, yes Too proud to fall in love seriously, yes Too pretty to write poetry, yes So clean now that I stand here before you with no more secrets left, yes. |
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| Tuesday, December 29th, 2009 |
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 Listen: http://iLike.com/s/9UrwQ |
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| Monday, December 28th, 2009 |
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The nite is young with feelings of old. 11:33 shadows cast forth the blaze of eleven-hundred & thirty-three votives that burn the tears of beggar thoughts, the dust exposed by the light of the sun which clings to the air & spreads with the gathering wind. We hang over oceans & blow across continents. The wind has no end, it continues like the Universe collecting all that ever was & all that ever shall be; we are a collection of things to be seen by the collection. Like the stars, the darkness is always present and comes not from the absence of light, just as light comes not from the absence of darkness; All is One; All is present. A young face is but a combination of two old; All is young; All is old. All are beggars who raise their hand in the direction of life, for each tight-fisted businessman & every open-fisted taker extends & gives the wealth of life. We travel through our own creations, stirring a timeless soup of infinite taste. Lay down your metal & free yourself of divisions; do not fear to breathe in deep the air of your ways & from your cupped palms drink down what you drink up. |
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| Sunday, December 27th, 2009 |
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last nite more horrible dreams of being _ by dad. matt sees but doesn't say anything. we sit on couch, he sits in chair in family room. matt has my collage and is looking at it. he criticizes it and says it isn't complete looking. i find a hammer (?) (some tool) and with it destroy a religious painting in front of my father. i shout at him "hypocrite!." i punctured two holes in the nude paint of jesus. i escape through the garage. tight hold. (in other dreams of this i usually have a younger sister i'm trying to protect from him- in a continuation dream last nite i did) a lot of crying in dream. i don't like writing about this so i am going to stop- i don't want to write details. dream with younger sister. rezina and k are there. i am in a long corridor with many doors. i look for rezina in one of them. i have just escaped from my house. i want to tell her or someone of what happened. i'm looking for my sister. i find rezina. she is trying on dresses for some big event. she comes out of the dressing room with a blue strap dress with very intricate design. she is looking for k. k comes to her from a door down the hall and he tries to push his way in her room but i'm pushing back from inside on the door bc i don't know who it is. rezina says it's k and so i let him in. i feel relief to see him. i want to tell him. i want to tell rezina. i feel in the dream like it's been a secret kept forever and now is the time to get it in the air. k doesn't like the dress on her and i agree that she can find a better one. rezina seems fine with this; there is too much fabric to the dress. we are in the hall watching her model it- k stands at one end, i stand at the other. she skips back to the room to change. i never tell them. some type of phone in another place. it is something like a teleconference btwn many people. it's about my sister. i'm not a participant in the call but i shout into the wall where it is mounted inside "What Have You Done To Her!" It's between a, a's sister and someone else. i remark to myself how a's sister talks like a real snob. dream of new ferry boat- i'm by myself with many excited strangers going to some new destination that doesn't feel like a place where people stay for very long. one girl says she has to be back by 5:30 for work; she is going for a quick rest. i bring a guitar but am afraid it'll get wet. there are two bags. there is a long line to board and we climb many wooden stairs, some areas have rails and some do not. we have to be very careful crossing when there is no rail - altho i feel better if fall in because it is a lake, not an ocean. people are patient. there is no rush to board. we move steadily. i reach a dock, it is a sitting area with log seats around a large, flat, circular tablelike surface made of wood. i sit on the edge of the wooden table instead of the seats and the dock begins spinning out of control. i feel sick and like i will fly off so i try to go down one stairway and stand on a different plateau of the ferry that looks out over the lake.i don't know where it is im going or for how long i'm staying. it's a cute town of some type. i plan on never going back. i feel very independent and okay with this. i see a rescue ferry tugging a child in a raft back to the mainland; they go in the opposite direction. |
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