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don't waste your nerves and pretty dresses on those who don't deserve them.

this LCD soundsystemsong is infectious. i want it on the soundtrack to my life. when my life is made into a biopic after i die. i want it to play during the late teens to early twenties montage.

but i seriously love it. i listened to it at the park tonight on the swings. then i just started walking and watching these guys play frisbee and felt really awake. that really awake feeling where your gut is kind of trying to tell you that something big is about to happen, but you're not sure because that feeling in your gut could just be the mcchicken sandwich you ate earlier. or it could just be the weed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i2V_ZT-nyOs

he's a real nowhere man

this slump has really managed to ruin my week. it's the little things. like when you know the "1 missed call" on your phone is just your dad. and you check. and it really is just your dad. but there was still that little bit of hope that it was someone caring and warm.



i'll say it once, i'll say it ten million times;:''' when i get sick, i honestly believe it's the physical manifestation of my wretched emotional/mental state.








there have been some really amazing summer nights though, let me tell you:

i'm framing that picture and taking it with me to college.

scrape your knee it is only skin

makes the sound of violins

this is why i'm hot, this is why i'm hot: i feel kind of sick and the temperature is a little too warm in my house right now

things that are bad:
how strange my stomach feels right now
i can't sleep because of how strange my stomach feels right now
how much energy yesterday's weed drained me of
my love life
the amount of time that i have before college
lack of mani/pedi
weight gain
it's 7:20 in the morning and i'm half baked
chicken tacos from chilis
endings

things that are good:
ronnie is home
uriel
andy is a really cool dude. raise your hand if you are THIS happpy you're friends with him.
max/alec/aaron/+everyone that i've been ending up with at the end of the night are also cool
erin came with me to this party and we got w-w-w-wasted together. old school bonding, ya'll.
the amount of time that i have before college
it's 7:20 in the morning and i'm half baked
gogol bordello
bonding with the new wilco album. what a mellow classic rock sound;;; "walken" and "impossible germany" are really groovy tunes.
lollapalooza is soon! but i don't even like pearl jam, you know?
apple scrapple bread
snood
sometimes text twist, but not so much anymore.
reading
writing
jewlery making days and your best friend straightening your hair for you
kill bill volume 2
back rubs
this night reminds me of the night i got really sad over that guy i dated sophmore year and stayed up extremely late listening to eisley and wilco and the flaming lips with my boom box directly next to my bed
beginnings
sitting in the grass with anne marie and uriel making clover chains
sitting in megan's backyard on a purple blanket
muffins...FIRE!
dancing to the mariners revenge songs with marian and ronnie, accompanied by orchestra and a large group of children
lists that keep everything in perspective
when i close my eyes and listen to music, especially that one phish song, and that one guitar solo in that phish song and the time in my life that guitar solo reminds me about.
mermaids
baby lemon videos on youtube
talking on the phone with jenna
ys (especially only skin)
my family
sleeping
free art institute thursday. mmhmm.
the really nice feeling i get whenever i update my ipod
i also think it's great when people stay home to read harry potter. i'm not even into harry potter, but i mean really, i think it's lovely that people stay home to read. i can't believe i was reading harry potter in fifth grade and now i'm a freshman in college and the last book is happening and the whole situation with these books just astounds me.







sometimes i get really sad and need to make lists.

just around the river bend; otherwise known as: how i met your mother

i was watching big love tonight and bill was making out with this crazy russian waitress. can you guess what song was playing? none other than the girlfriend remix. lil mama and avril lavigne!

i can't listen to this antony and the johnsons album because the cover freaks me out too much and it shows up on itunes:

how fucking creepy is that, right? antony is a fat guy, which i don't like. i like my indie idols to be scragly, bearded and thin. i plan to date lots of scragly, bearded and thing boys in college. i do not plan to date theatre majors because most of them are gay. they can join the league but they cannot have sex with me. my point is, is, is, that i went straight to the nearest band which was animal collective. this music is good good goodo.

here are the classes i am taking in college: acting voice body movement let's read books and do art projects about them (friendship bracelet city, here i come) latin american history up to 1800. but here's the thing, i'm only taking that class so i can take post 1800, because that shit is interesting as hell. how do i know this? machuga, neruda, the very old man with enormous wings and the book of embraces. plus that story about argentina. i remember the day we were discussing that one in class was the day after diego and i broke up and it felt really strange and wrong to say "my friend's parents were a part of the underground during that revolution..." instead of "my boyfriend's parents..."

not that i'm the kind of girl who announces her relationship status to her world lit class. i'm not. that kind. of person.

banshee beat. the beet is the most intense vegetable of them all. you can't squeeze blood out of a turnip can you? speaking of intense, i saw gogol bordello for the second time sunday night. it was incredible. and by incredible i mean unbelievably incredible. as someone who has been thinking of- no, obsessing over, art and what exactly it is, i must say that gogol bordello is art and eugene hutz is an artist. when they play music, the devil, or god, or both enter the room and everyone's souls start stirring in really unfathomable ways. seeing them live is a very viceral experience. it's beautiful and human, but not in the pathetic way, pathetic is completely the wrong word please ignore my use of it in this context, but the way i think my mail man is beautiful and human or the way i think stamp collections are beautiful and human. gogol bordello is like extreme spirits and voices and emotions and fuel and poetry and motion and energy and sweat and rawness human and beautiful. people think i'm joking around when i say that it's necessary to see them live at least once before you kick the old bucket and everything but i'm not. maybe what i mean is that it's necessary to feel that alive at least once. is it stupid that gypsy punk music and a silly man with a mustache mean this much to me? gogol bordello is what life/art (interchangable) should be, i think.

tickatickaticka.

dear galeano:

i can't sleep. there is a boy under my eyelids.

also, fuck you for so perfectly putting the way i am about lust and love into words. i think in terms of eyelids now.

love,

koray

the thing that i say about my favorite painting to impress people is a quote from an episode of boy meets world

it's when your ex-boyfriends parents find your livejournal that you begin to reconsider this whole internet thing. i'm too attracted to people reading these things to completely give it up, i guess. xanga was one thing, livejournal was another. this time i won't use full names, i promise.

when i'm going through something difficult my dreams tend to get more intense. this time around is no exception. in fact, my dreams have gotten worse and more realistic than ever. dream one was about control, or the way i feel i have a lack of it, maybe. i had just given birth to two babies. one of them was an actual baby, all small and pale and wrapped in a bright pink blanket. someone in the dream, it was either clay or laura, named it "precious". the second baby wasn't a baby, but rather a two year old boy that i couldn't get to settle down. the next thing i knew i lost the infant. it didn't die or anything, i literally just couldn't find it. i ran around the hospital looking for it, not telling people what i was looking for and denying that i had lost it for fear of them thinking i was/calling me a bad mother. i remember thinking that i had to leave, that there was somewhere i had to be, and that the fact that i had to spend all this time finding the baby was going to make me late. the hospital itself went back and forth; about half the time it was big and sanitary and white and made of tiles and fluorecent lights; the other half it wasn't a hospital at all, it was that stretch of residential area we walked through from alec's house to burger king during parties. but i still thought it was a hospital.

locations in dreams are weird things, right?

that's all i remember of the actual dream. the morning after i was thinking about my period and realized that there was a chance that i was late, seeing as i couldn't remember when i had gotten it the month before. what if my dream was a premonition? highly unlikely, seeing as i'm not having sex. with anyone. anywhere. anytime.

i had dream two last night. i was getting off the 215 bus across the street from my house when i saw this boy i went to school with...in real life we went through brief stages of being kind of goodish friends from grade 7-10. he smoked a lot of weed and apparently had a crush on me freshman year but then found out i had let one of his best friends feel me up at a party and then wasn't interested anymore. anyways, back in my subconcious, he was riding his bike past my house. a zombie creature who looked like him in zombie form was ridng a bike behind him. the zombie was something he had created for a movie or something. i walked across the street and asked if i could shake the zombies hand, and then shook a bag of doritos at it. the boy told me he would eat me if i did that, so i just went home. moments later i sudden rush of fear came over me and i looked out the peephole in my door. there was the zombies giant monster mouth roaring on the other side. i let out a shreek and then heard laughing on the other side of the door. i found myself shoving the keyes under the door but then realized how stupid i was and pulled them back under. the boy and his zombie ended up getting into my house- i don't know how. the zombie morphed into the scariest monster i've ever seen- his body seemed to be covered in strange dark paper mache scales and his face was hideous. he had the body of a human but moved all hunched over, almost, but not quite on all fours. his head was just an oval, and was covered the way his body was- and his mouth was huge and full of disgustingly grimy teeth, all of which were huge and sharp and would make me bleed to death upon contact with my skin. the boy instructed the zombie to attack me and it tried to do. i kept running in circle around my living room to get away from it, screaming and crying and telling the boy that if he didn't tell his monster to stop i would call my dad. everything in my living room morphed into the style of the monster- the monet on my wall became a framed painting of him, my couches were covered in his scales. i finally started screaming for my dad to come downstairs and make them leave. he did so, and all of a sudden the monster was tame. he started talking like an autistic child. he had a conversation with us about show and tell and trying to find an agent. the boy and his monster left and my living room went back to normal.

maybe i've been spending too much time by myself doing nothing and that's why my dreams are the way they are. or maybe i'm mourning this relationship. or maybe i'm freaking out about college. i'm not trying to regress into an eighth grader and write about how sad i am and how the world is just a big black ball of pain because johnny football doesn't like me in my blog or anything, don't get me wrong. did i even ever go through that phase? i certainly hope not.

i do have a case of the mean reds though. it's been a very internal thing. nothing external has been a catalyst, which is why i can't help but feel like an eighth grader, suffering from herself and almost enjoying wallowing in it all.
maybe it's just this week.