Wednesday, November 18
Sunday, October 25
All the joyous, all the sorrowing, all the living, all the dying
PIONEERS, O, PIONEERS!
blogging is a good alternative to reading the adventures of huckleberry finn/researching for my stripper talk tomorrow/writing about simone de beauvoir/writing about the scarlet letter/studying for this midterm/being productive/etc. is californiacation degrading to women? i don't know, but all the sex scenes are usually hot hot hot.
getting fucked up is all fun and good, but i never get anything done after a night of heavy drinking.
oh, pioneers. i want to build a new world. according to mark twain, no one can be a good person unless they leave society. i've always agreed...so when i turn 50 i am moving to the mountains to read and farm and make the right moral choices and whatnot. who's with me?
blogging is a good alternative to reading the adventures of huckleberry finn/researching for my stripper talk tomorrow/writing about simone de beauvoir/writing about the scarlet letter/studying for this midterm/being productive/etc. is californiacation degrading to women? i don't know, but all the sex scenes are usually hot hot hot.
getting fucked up is all fun and good, but i never get anything done after a night of heavy drinking.
oh, pioneers. i want to build a new world. according to mark twain, no one can be a good person unless they leave society. i've always agreed...so when i turn 50 i am moving to the mountains to read and farm and make the right moral choices and whatnot. who's with me?
Wednesday, June 3
addiction medicine specialist
when i was in seventh and eighth grade, i would listen to adam and dr.drew basically every night on this jank little walkman i had. my parents would tell me to go to bed, and from 10 to 12 i would lie in the dark with my headphones on, burying my head in my pillow to stifle my giddy, guilty laughter. part of the appeal was that the show was really dirty and i knew my mom would be mad at me if i was staying up late listening to it. it would usually put me to sleep in 30, maybe 40 minutes. adam's voice is the weirdest lullaby ever.
as shitty as things were, i always had loveline to look forward to. and i mean, it was seventh grade. thing were shitty. not only did i have this terrible case of the pubescent blues, but my family was as fucked up as it had ever been (and as fucked up as i thought it was going to get. i totally believed that.) and nights in my house were fucked up and rough as sandpaper with glass shards and sharks teeth glued on it. loveline was really comforting, like my grandma rubbing my back or my dog coming up all concerned whenever i cried really loudly.
it's weird how i found it again right as things started falling apart. i have the hardest fucking time getting to sleep all the time- thank THE FUCKING LORD for loveline archives online. fuck that striker guy.
this is adam carolla and dr.drew.
things that never stop being weird: having a sex dream about someone and then seeing them the next day.
my only goal for the future is to find someone who speaks the same fucking language as i do. foreign is an emotion.
as shitty as things were, i always had loveline to look forward to. and i mean, it was seventh grade. thing were shitty. not only did i have this terrible case of the pubescent blues, but my family was as fucked up as it had ever been (and as fucked up as i thought it was going to get. i totally believed that.) and nights in my house were fucked up and rough as sandpaper with glass shards and sharks teeth glued on it. loveline was really comforting, like my grandma rubbing my back or my dog coming up all concerned whenever i cried really loudly.
it's weird how i found it again right as things started falling apart. i have the hardest fucking time getting to sleep all the time- thank THE FUCKING LORD for loveline archives online. fuck that striker guy.
this is adam carolla and dr.drew.
things that never stop being weird: having a sex dream about someone and then seeing them the next day.
my only goal for the future is to find someone who speaks the same fucking language as i do. foreign is an emotion.
Tuesday, May 19
laughing with a mouth of blood
dreamin dreamin
1. at francescas: it was the first time meeting our new area manager, fradina, and she was a giant bitch. she made me organize lip gloss by scent and texture, but i also had to alphabetize them in this weird dirty room. there was an office full of women who worked at fran's above the store, and i went there, and she made me stand on a block and turn around while she insulted my outfit and told me to pick out better belts- she named off a bunch of brand name belt makers and told me to memorize them. i told my coworkers she was being mean and they didn't say a word.
2. i tried to escape and decided i would go to my friend alec's dad's house to sleep, because there is never anyone there. the house had white walls and gray furniture, and i laid down on an old couch to go to sleep. hailey called me and told me that his dad actually was there and that i had to get out ASAP. so to remedy the situation, i decided to make it seem like the house had been robbed. i fucked a bunch of shit up and hid a pair of scissors (it was a dream, okay? i know this is weird shit.) i left the house and ran down the block (which looked like my block via like 4pm in august- bright sun but kind of twilight vibes going on) and his dad caught up with me and told me his house had been robbed. i said i didn't know anything about it.
3. some apartment party- brown molding and a brown fireplace. red cups and my manager from work, possibly my friends.
4. i'm burning the new decemberists cd for this guy and his sisters.
the new st.vincent record is good stuff! i'm seeing the decemberists in like ten days. and the yeah yeah yeahs in like two weeks. and gogol bordello and man man also. and my pitchfork tickets just came. summer=concerts.
1. at francescas: it was the first time meeting our new area manager, fradina, and she was a giant bitch. she made me organize lip gloss by scent and texture, but i also had to alphabetize them in this weird dirty room. there was an office full of women who worked at fran's above the store, and i went there, and she made me stand on a block and turn around while she insulted my outfit and told me to pick out better belts- she named off a bunch of brand name belt makers and told me to memorize them. i told my coworkers she was being mean and they didn't say a word.
2. i tried to escape and decided i would go to my friend alec's dad's house to sleep, because there is never anyone there. the house had white walls and gray furniture, and i laid down on an old couch to go to sleep. hailey called me and told me that his dad actually was there and that i had to get out ASAP. so to remedy the situation, i decided to make it seem like the house had been robbed. i fucked a bunch of shit up and hid a pair of scissors (it was a dream, okay? i know this is weird shit.) i left the house and ran down the block (which looked like my block via like 4pm in august- bright sun but kind of twilight vibes going on) and his dad caught up with me and told me his house had been robbed. i said i didn't know anything about it.
3. some apartment party- brown molding and a brown fireplace. red cups and my manager from work, possibly my friends.
4. i'm burning the new decemberists cd for this guy and his sisters.
the new st.vincent record is good stuff! i'm seeing the decemberists in like ten days. and the yeah yeah yeahs in like two weeks. and gogol bordello and man man also. and my pitchfork tickets just came. summer=concerts.
Thursday, April 30
when money you're needing and mouths you are feeding
hey spencer and heidi! since you're so famous for no reason, and therefore wealthy for no reason, how about NOT exploiting this possible pandemic for your own publicity purposes and buying some medicine for some people in mexico?
have you ever felt totally betrayed by your culture? if anyone foreign is secretly reading this, let me assure you, I DO NOT UPHOLD THESE VALUES AND TRADITIONS (as pictured above.) I REPEAT. I DO NOT. UPHOLD. THESE VALUES AND TRADITIONS.
Saturday, April 25
A TOAST TO THE GOOD
A LIST OF THINGS I LOVE (RIGHT NOW)
1. MASH UPS- from girl talk to metermaids to jaydiohead to the gray album to this grizzly bear/dead prez thing i'm listening to- i love it all! i'm really glad i've been around to see this cool new sub-genre art form be created and evolve. sometimes the mashup is more beautiful/make you wanna shake yr booty than either of the songs desperately.
2. MASHED POTATOES
3. REALLY DEEP VOICES- I realized how fucking awesome these were during the Peter Bjorn and John concert the other night. Their bassist was singing along with the bass notes he was playing and I was like "damn. that is one deep voice." from james earl jones to the bassist of peter bjorn and john (who is either named peter, bjorn or john)- DEEP VOICES- I LOVE 'EM ALL!
4. PUNK GANGS- too fucking trivial not to love.
5. MANATEES- http://rickoshea.files.wordpress.com/2008/03/manatee.jpg I WANT TO UNDERWATER CUDDLE WITH THOSE FUCKING SEA COWS
6. DALE GRIBBLE, AS WELL AS THE REST OF COMMUNITY OF ARLEN, TX
1. MASH UPS- from girl talk to metermaids to jaydiohead to the gray album to this grizzly bear/dead prez thing i'm listening to- i love it all! i'm really glad i've been around to see this cool new sub-genre art form be created and evolve. sometimes the mashup is more beautiful/make you wanna shake yr booty than either of the songs desperately.
2. MASHED POTATOES
3. REALLY DEEP VOICES- I realized how fucking awesome these were during the Peter Bjorn and John concert the other night. Their bassist was singing along with the bass notes he was playing and I was like "damn. that is one deep voice." from james earl jones to the bassist of peter bjorn and john (who is either named peter, bjorn or john)- DEEP VOICES- I LOVE 'EM ALL!
4. PUNK GANGS- too fucking trivial not to love.
5. MANATEES- http://rickoshea.files.wordpress.com/2008/03/manatee.jpg I WANT TO UNDERWATER CUDDLE WITH THOSE FUCKING SEA COWS
6. DALE GRIBBLE, AS WELL AS THE REST OF COMMUNITY OF ARLEN, TX
Tuesday, April 21
the billdozer
Life Story
by Tennessee Williams
After you've been to bed together for the first time,
without the advantage or disadvantage of any prior acquaintance,
the other party very often says to you,
Tell me about yourself, I want to know all about you,
what's your story? And you think maybe they really and truly do
sincerely want to know your life story, and so you light up
a cigarette and begin to tell it to them, the two of you
lying together in completely relaxed positions
like a pair of rag dolls a bored child dropped on a bed.
You tell them your story, or as much of your story
as time or a fair degree of prudence allows, and they say,
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,
each time a little more faintly, until the oh
is just an audible breath, and then of course
there's some interruption. Slow room service comes up
with a bowl of melting ice cubes, or one of you rises to pee
and gaze at himself with mild astonishment in the bathroom mirror.
And then, the first thing you know, before you've had time
to pick up where you left off with your enthralling life story,
they're telling you their life story, exactly as they'd intended to all
along,
and you're saying, Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,
each time a little more faintly, the vowel at last becoming
no more than an audible sigh,
as the elevator, halfway down the corridor and a turn to the left,
draws one last, long, deep breath of exhaustion
and stops breathing forever. Then?
Well, one of you falls asleep
and the other one does likewise with a lighted cigarette in his mouth,
and that's how people burn to death in hotel rooms.
by Tennessee Williams
After you've been to bed together for the first time,
without the advantage or disadvantage of any prior acquaintance,
the other party very often says to you,
Tell me about yourself, I want to know all about you,
what's your story? And you think maybe they really and truly do
sincerely want to know your life story, and so you light up
a cigarette and begin to tell it to them, the two of you
lying together in completely relaxed positions
like a pair of rag dolls a bored child dropped on a bed.
You tell them your story, or as much of your story
as time or a fair degree of prudence allows, and they say,
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,
each time a little more faintly, until the oh
is just an audible breath, and then of course
there's some interruption. Slow room service comes up
with a bowl of melting ice cubes, or one of you rises to pee
and gaze at himself with mild astonishment in the bathroom mirror.
And then, the first thing you know, before you've had time
to pick up where you left off with your enthralling life story,
they're telling you their life story, exactly as they'd intended to all
along,
and you're saying, Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,
each time a little more faintly, the vowel at last becoming
no more than an audible sigh,
as the elevator, halfway down the corridor and a turn to the left,
draws one last, long, deep breath of exhaustion
and stops breathing forever. Then?
Well, one of you falls asleep
and the other one does likewise with a lighted cigarette in his mouth,
and that's how people burn to death in hotel rooms.
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