| freelance and eating my feelings. |
[04 Apr 2009|04:57pm] |
thursday night ate sushi and 72% dark chocolate in the back of a theatre on sunset, the one where they show the room. (which i've missed for two months in a row, goddamnit.)
anyway, so i'm sitting there with a bunch of third graders and "the press" (aka a row of sad-eyed lesbians in mom jeans). together, we watch this:
among other things.
i have such a soft spot for nature docs.
so far my review features an in depth comparison of krill verses fruit snacks.
fml.
on a heavier note, i think i'll forever resent the fact that girl birds are always brown and frumpy and conducive to camouflage while boy birds get to look like ravers and kings.
exhibit a:
story of muh lyfe amirite gurlfriendz??
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| i am a sophomore in its purest etymology: |
[18 Feb 2009|11:04am] |
an imploded ego tangled up in a maroon blazer two sizes too big.
the freckle-faced backbone of a wise-fool platoon.
community college is a loaded phrase, wrought with excuses and yeah, buts. flat in the way only wet trash can be flat.
good thing i have a hard on for wet trash and downwardly mobile twenty-somethings.
i've been dressing like a power lesbian.
i saw ellen page the other night at the movies and we were wearing similar outfits.
my spring classes are perfect.
my history teacher complemented my tom hayden, senate '76 button.
my anthro teacher and i have matching guatemalan friendship bracelets.
(he's still limping from the other night.)
i get to go to a linguistics conference next week at ucla.
i'm brewing yuppie coffee again.
i'm even sort of looking forward to stats.
i turn twenty in a couple weeks.
i care about those two people on that mayan temple very much.
i want to know who fairweather is.
i want to crawl around here s'more.
yesterday i was remembering the polite but adamant denial that arrived in a business-size envelope wedged between my family’s utility bill and a JC Penny catalog two years ago. Mediocrity never felt so synonymous with performance fleece.
things are gonna be different this time.
here's to large envelopes with congratulatory phrases printed on thick, expensive-looking stock paper.
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[11 Feb 2009|01:33am] |
is it weird that i suddenly want a nose ring and tattoos and blue hair?
is it weird that this is happening to me at 20 and not at 14?
is it weird that i fell into [verb] twice this month?
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| on the road |
[09 Feb 2009|10:19am] |
"-i was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room id never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and i looked at the cracked high ceiling and i really didn't know who i was for about fifteen strange seconds. i wasn't scared; i was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost. i was halfway across america, at the dividing line between the east of my youth and the west of my future, and maybe that's why it happened right there and then, that strange red afternoon." -jack kerouac
yeah.
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| i'm home. |
[08 Feb 2009|06:51am] |
i don't know.
all i can really say is that my biggest bruise is the size of a baby's cranium. but like a baby that was born big.
it's on my upper thigh.
i got it from shaking a tambourine.
violently, i guess.
but that would happen to me, right?
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[29 Jan 2009|07:27am] |
a typical san ignacio day:
i. wake up in fog.
ii.drink two cups of black coffee.
iii.walk two minutes to the ruins.
iv.pick pretty flowers and listen to the tain in in the ruins.
v. class. last night our class was about how the mayan elites justified their offspring's down syndrome by claiming that their wives were inseminated by jaguar gods. or that they, the elite shamans, were in fact part jaguar. (i always knew kittens had some sublime wiretap to the gods.)
vi.walk to town. buy ten bananas, a papaya, a coconut popsicle, and a few cold belikins for roughly five american dollars.
vii.eat the popsicle, then the bananas.
viii.hang out with the elementary school kids during their arts and crafts hour. yesterday we made butterflies out of coffee filters.
ix.trek home, poaching in my own sweat.
x.chug the belikins with the homies.
xi.listen to feels and read texts.
xii.giggle.
xiii.go dancing.
xiv.come home with the munchies and eat an entire bag of cookies.
here hell has nine layers.
here heaven has thirteen.
here i numb my tongue chewing on leaves.
here i draw the news.
here i address people by name.
here i dig hard on trig.
here i listen to creole.
here i play soccer.
here the graveyards look like forests of trufula trees, welded together like last year's easter stew.
here i am wednesday adams, rolling around the tombs until the names are embossed across my ribcage with a big purple crayon.
here i am spittle-spattering, spinecrackering.
here i am a marxist materialist.
here i feel autistic.
here i nap in caves.
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[23 Jan 2009|11:58am] |
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somebody pinch me.
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| stuff i've been learning. |
[11 Jan 2009|09:59am] |
on the whole, i am a pretty porous person. like, to a fault. i fester in a large, germ-infested vat of (mostly useless) information. lately it's been particularly bad. i'm not normally a long-winded blogger, but i have a feeling i might be indulging a few minutes of your time right now, if you'll allow it.
archeology. i'm taking six units of archeology abroad over winter term, and boy do i have a boner for it. case in point, here is the first sentence of my first homework assignment: "Giovanni Belzoni was an Italian circus strongman employed by dilettantes to loot for Egyptian antiquities." i'm so jealous. i want a rich person to hire me to do their dirty work. i dont even care if they take the credit, as long as they feed me. belzoni once admitted to his journal that his favorite sound was that of skulls crushing as he battered through tomb walls. so punx. i've come to think of him as a carnie version of teddy roosevelt.
i was surprised but comforted to also hear the name thomas jefferson on my first day. it turns out that
when he wasn’t busy being a founding father, the minister to France, or the republican party's resident firecrotch, TJ worried a lot about the strange mounds littering his estate grounds. after some digging, he concluded that these unsightly hemispherical deposits of land were in fact Native American burial grounds. well, he was right. except ((major buzzkill)) his contemporaries were a bunch of racists, preventing his conjecture from being accepted by the academic community at large until roughly a century later. go figure.
here is an example of an effigy mound in the shape of a serpent:
i've also been thinking a lot about syntax. i'm on a mission to salvage lackluster diction, victims of terminal elasticity. the effort has a startling effect, similar to personification. it's funny.... letters have clear genders and are huge flirts, just like people. i'll give you one example, and i want you to say it out loud and let it sort of roll around in your mouth.
"Dinner that night was some lewd stew I'd watched Parish concoct, undercooked carrots and pulled pork in ooze." (lipsyte)
see? letters flirt. words have cubic bulk.
i wish i had been born a word instead of a person. i hate playing puppetmaster.
i feel bad for polluting your friends page with this shit.
anyways i leave tomorrow at four am.......
so i guess this is goodbye until some belizean internet cafe. comment with your address and i'll send you a post card.
i don't really know what else to say.
i love you guys.
i hope i don't forget something really important. like underwear.
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| what a year, what a year. |
[01 Jan 2009|11:23am] |
-The United States marked the five-year anniversary of the war in Iraq.
-Australian police tasered a ram.
-France banned TV shows for babies.
-Pope Benedict XVI toured the United States, and the Vatican released a list of seven “social” sins–including littering, genetic tampering, and creating poverty–to complement the seven cardinal vices.
-Bozo the Clown died.
-Japanese men began to wear bras.
-The United Nations expected the number of starving people in the world to rise to 950 million.
- A man in Swansea, Wales, died from eating too much fairycake.
-North Korean hunger scientists announced a new noodle.
-The Summer Olympics were held in Beijing, heralded on television by fake, computer-generated fireworks.
-Nobel Laureate V. S. Naipaul declared that there are “no more great writers."
-The thoughts of a monkey in North Carolina controlled the actions of a robot in Japan.
-Bob Dylan won a Pulitzer Prize.
-Scientists located the part of the brain responsible for understanding sarcasm.
-Illinois Senator Barack Obama was elected President of the United States.
-Two teams of physicists, one in Calgary and the other in Tokyo, successfully stored nothing within a gas in the form of squeezed vacuum composed of uncertainty.
you guys, this is big.
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[27 Dec 2008|10:36am] |
let me get this straight: every person ever born has to suffer because Eve couldn't resist a healthy between-meals snack?
___________
earlier this week my grandpa parted with some old photos so my mom could beckon them into the digital age aka scan and restore them a bit.
so this is my actual great great aunt:
several aspects of myself suddenly make sense.
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[22 Dec 2008|11:48am] |
some men are born christmas.
some achieve christmas.
and some have christmas thrust upon them.
.........i'm afraid i'm of the latter.
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| (is it lying or laying? i always forget. i think it might be laying. laying. right?) |
[13 Dec 2008|01:32pm] |
the first time i met my sister,
she was lying in one of those little plastic incubators.
all red and squirming
engaged in a sort of modified samba
and my mom sat up all pale and tired,
but still looking like a mermaid.
and she goes, "kate, this is your sister: sarah."
and i scrunched my face and squinted.
"well hello there, sarah." i said.
as if she were the latest hit product from Mattel.
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| a poem about downtown milky way |
[03 Dec 2008|12:17am] |
I hear Downtown Milky Way’s the place to go
if you want to get shanked.
But seriously.
Tell your kid with the coke bottle glasses
To get off the infrared slide, get out of the gas and dust box.
Because that supernova’s wielding a butter knife
I hear Downtown Milky Way’s got great brothels
if you like sophisticated fireballs.
No, actually.
She’ll talk all night about the Big Bang
About spinning, subdividing, reversing time.
Until you realize she’s just talking about the edge of the universe.
Stupid tease.
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| gobble gobble. |
[26 Nov 2008|06:13pm] |
-a pair of good hiking boots (water resistant or water proof)
-Swiss Army knife
-Flashlight
-backpack
-two water containers
-notebook
-bug spray
-mosquito net
(i dont really feel like eating)
i'm really looking forward to a post-apocalypse agriculture renaissance.
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[25 Nov 2008|11:35am] |
do you ever feel like masochistically you used the largest commercially available paper and the smallest available lead (.3)?
i do.
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| last night i saw mr. ben folds.... |
[15 Nov 2008|12:52pm] |
.....who's got an everyman's grace that i have taken such solace in since i was ten. i guess you could have called it a sort of deliverance. jesus. he's just a fucking professional. i wish he was my uncle. but mostly i wish i could shred that hard. he's right about the nineties. people were happier then, but the music was angrier. now people are sordidly brooding over their mortgages as cheer squad dance music blasts in the background. it's alright. i secretly like cheer squad dance music.
i wish i was good at math. i hope the fact that i'm not won't ruin my life.
einstein was shit at math, my astronomy teacher was telling us. he had his wife do his math.
i need a wife that can do my math.
i'm re-reading heart of darkness. it's a lot better the second time, as i'm finding with most of this semester's classics. it's really racist in a really unearthly way. it's like fixing eyes with a dismembered monster in the congo, rotting and covered in foliage. i can dig on that.
by the time i leave santa monica, i'll have six english and seven anthro classes, an advanced composition class, proficiency in final draft, some decent dents in philosophy, actual mayan fieldwork, and a garden variety of general ed under my belt. this, sadly, validates my existence almost completely.
i need to start watching top chef again. culinary. boner.
i'll put this here because i want to remember it and i'm out of post-its:
"this stillness of life did not in the least resemble a peace. it was the stillness of an implacable force brooding over an inscrutable intention. it looked at you with a vengeful aspect. i got used it." -j. conrad
i'm getting used to it too. now all i need is friends and i'll be a golden god.
by hook or by crook, i'll be a golden god.
and by golden god i mean a real person.
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| people, put your arms around chaos: |
[05 Nov 2008|08:04pm] |
"You better damn well do the tough stuff up front, because if you think you can delay the tough decisions and tiptoe past the graveyard, you're in for a lot of trouble," Panetta said. "Make the decisions that involve pain and sacrifice up front."
His mother was an anthropologist. She died as an anthropologist, with a feeling of distance from others and an inability to commune with them and to communicate her pain. Perhaps this is the root of Obama’s horror vacui.
does anyone else feel..... weird?
like weird good. but weird unstable.
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