The Hipster Brigade
chinese peacock dance
today, i was watching sesame street with my sister. it was the 35th anniversary special and i saw this amazing featurette with Grover and Ming the peacock. it talked about this amazing chinese dance called the peacock dance. the little girls wore the most elegant dresses. now i want one. apparantly, there are many different kinds but i can't find the exact ones from the show, which were stunning. i almost learned traditional japanese dance, like my mom did as a small child, while in high school, but i had a lot of trouble finding a teacher. now this makes me want to take up peacock dancing.
In today's Global Grover bit, Grover presents us with Ming, a Muppet peacock who's supposed to show us how to do the Chinese peacock dance. Ming does a soft-shoe tap dance instead, so Grover has to show us a film clip of Chinese kids doing the peacock dance. Grover and Ming end the piece by tap dancing together.
The peacock dance is a traditional dance of Dai people. Dai people live in Yunnan province, southwest of China, where most of the rainforests are. The unique tropical weather and the natural environment formed Dai's unique tradition and culture. They share their homeland with creatures of great variety and have managed to preserve natural habitats of thousands of rare species. The beauty and mildness of the peacock has always been a great inspiration for Dai people. They consider peacocks as Goddesses that can bring them peace and happiness, which they pray for with graceful peacock dancing. This piece of peacock dance vividly shows one day of peacocks' life in the rainforest- waking up in the morning, stretching his beautiful wings, chirping along with other birds and bathing in the spring, amazed by their own graceful reflection in the water.
chinese dance descriptions
sesame street anniversary summary
chinese cultural educational products
i'm waiting for some water to boil for tea. i'm contemplating eating ice cream at 7am. my lips are a bit chapped from constantly licking them. my dog is scratching his chin and making cute doggy noises at my feet. i'm still in my nightgown. i'm thinking about mowing the lawn even though "we" haven't mowed our lawn in ages. we have an old fashioned push mower. our backyard is full of dirt and i have no idea why the grass went away. why don't more chairs have arm rests, especially at restaurants? i cannot sit with my legs just dangling there, i cross them or sit on them, it's very unlady-like. i think about my constant use of the ampersand & how it all got started because of this one entry
of justin why's. i like my tea the color of brown sugar. funnily enough, i use honey, not sugar. i think about disasters more than i think of pretty things. i haven't been hungry in days, but i often wake up at 4am starving and eat anything i can find that is meatless and tasty. more people should use the word tasty. the word town is overused: boot town, tobacco town, etc. i never could understand why anyone would want to shop at a dress barn? i often dream of eating decandent cakes and fancy desserts while wearing a wedding dress. i contemplate clouds for about 90% of my day. how come my tiny cat makes more noise eating than my dog?
someone on makeoutclub once asked me to send them a journal, which i seriously contemplated. a paper journal with scraps of my life just for them. perhaps i'll work on something starting october 1st. i doubt it'll go anywhere but in my hands.
i'd be pretty disappointed if i could replace everything in my life with alcohol
i remember picking callouses off bloody fingers, and remember i had to wait for my hands to get used to the feel of the ball. the mornings. the afternoons. everything reserved for practice. the weekends were free. then we quit. we were only working on volleyball for a month anyhow, and i doubt i was anything special since i couldn't serve over the net half the time without my hand turning raw with pain. i remember sitting out with cramps when i didn't want to play football and andy coming up to me wanting to make out under the trees. we never made out, because i made that up. often i end up in fictional arms in high school, since almost everything about that time is embellished with false facts. i was alone and i was a nerd and i wanted to be this rebellious little girl. i wanted to be a noir bard, but ultimately i was the smart girl that the administration liked, but stupid enough that the right teachers knew to ignore me. in a school of 50, everyone knows everything and rumors spread fast.
i have opposing blisters on my feet from wearing uncomfortable shoes. girls do ridiculous things in the name of fashion, but i've given them up. i'll never be a super model.
i have bruises on my thigh from unexplained mysterious accidents that occur during my dreams.
i have a small stinger stuck in my middle finger of my left hand.
i have one 2.5 inch scar down my left leg. i have another rounder scar on the right from falling down hard on the asphalt from walking my dog.
there's a rash on my right forearm i have no idea why.
my freckles are fading.
there's a grey bump on my right hand that stays the same size and appears to just be there. i poke at it for comfort some nights. perhaps waiting for a small baby to appear.
my legs are covered in tiny scratches from ingrown hairs, mosquito bites and fleas. i enjoy each and every one of these marks, because i feel like it's the one thing that pulls me out of the crowd. the thing that makes me a colored face in a mass of a gray world.
i remember i wanted to learn guitar. i quit piano. i gave up the band and now i write. i couldn't be happier.
i'm starting to think i shouldn't write here when i'm too tired and angry at myself.
DELAYED MY FLIGHT//STILL IN BLOODY TEXAS FOR ANOTHER WEEK
i'm miserable and it's my fault.
i can't sleep. i can't eat. i can't think. i can't read. i can't even concentrate long enough to figure it out. i've had a enough people tell me that i'm a mystery to them and that i'm a complex person, but i feel like an open book. i feel like i put everything out there, guts exposed, muscles showing, almost bare to the bone and still no one gets it. i'm just a simple fragile minded little girl. i haven't grown up. i'm still waiting for a fairy tale ending -- the happily ever after -- when dave and i ride away on the white horse off into the sunset. unfortunately, nothing is that simple.
everyone is looking for the black and white to things, but inside i feel tangled. i feel like people should read me, but it's true, if i can't, then why should they? just because it's not this or not that, doesn't mean it's not a bit of both.
i can only handle one step at a time. right now i feel like i'm on the plank and there is a gaggle of pirates urging me forward with their cutlasses. i'm trying to take slow calculated steps, but it's hard to concentrate amongst the jeering and angry faces. i feel like every single person in my life is angry at me. i feel like i'm surrounded by a bunch of sad and angry faces, and i'm hiding under rocks and nodding yes to things i don't want to do, to make them happy. i don't know what makes me happy anymore. it feels like the only times i'm happy are when i hear him laughing over the phone or when a friend tells me they need me. which is happening less and less.
i feel like i'm shrinking. something reconfirmed the other day when my mom said, "you seem shorter than usual. what shoes are you wearing?" and i was wearing heels.
CONGRATULATIONS, you are fucking's greatest hits
i'm sitting here listening to the blood brothers and i'm not packed and i leave in just hours. i mean it's several hours and hours and hours, but i'm about to wave goodbye to my summer home, my mom and sister and michael phelps is on tv...again. i'm leaving the olympics and the 24 hour tv set. the fuzz and the flipping channels and the all out arguements and the all night screaming. i can't take it anymore. it's breaking my nerves to live here one more second.
and she doesn't want me to leave. she, my mom, wants me to stay like it's going to help and again we've run out of time like we do every year. we just can't get anything done. there's always too much on our plates and lately, i've just been curling up on the couch and sleeping it all away and when i wake up and it's all still here, i just turn around and shut my eyes again.
i can't wait to fall asleep on a giant lumpy futon with green sheets and his long arms around me. i can look up and see the black inked "their" on his shoulder and the blue eyes and the thin wrists and his longish hair(!)and finally get some real sleep.
i keep putting my writing out there. everyone says i was made for words and i'm starting to believe them. that means i actually have to start doing some real writing and perhaps devote less hours to restless all night internet searching. i'm in 5 classes this semester that will force me to write.
intro to personal essay
into to poetry
adv. fiction writing
transformations of shakespeare
the last two are iffy like every single literature class that i take. i love reading and bookstores and knowledge, i just don't like analytical thinking. it's true, i'm terrible at it. i've tried and i know it's something that i won't get. i'm not intellectual. i'm a stupid girl with a smart air. i like how i can trick the masses.
seriously, things better start looking up or i'm going to pass out and not wake up for a long long time. i'm pretty sure i'll miss some things if i do that. you know, like the sun.
i write because...
there is nothing else to do. i can't sleep without talking about myself. i write because i need to find out who i am. i write because i can't tell lies. i write because i must. i write because that's what i'm supposed to do. i write because i like to tell stories. i write because i want to be someone else, and this is the only way i can do it. i can't act, so i write. i write because it comes naturally to my fingertips and i like when ink smears across my palms and fingertips, and i leave tiny prints along each single white sheet of paper i pass along the table. i write because i like to read and i want to create something that will insprire someone else. i write because i want to become an alcoholic and die at the age of 45 from alcohol poisoning. i write because i think i would be paralyzed without it. i write because it's cheaper than therapy. i write because i'm lonely. i write because i feel closed in and scared and this is a way i can let it out. i write because i can't sleep. i write because i can't do anything else. i was born without talent. i write because i thought i was ugly. i write because i still think i am sometimes. i write because no one likes me in person. i write because i'm paranoid. i write to be free. i write because i want to be famous. i write because i don't want to be recognized. i write because it's sexy. i write because it's mysterious. i write because it's impressive to say at parties as an occupation. i write because it gets me good sex without saying much. i write because i can't draw. i write because spell check will fix my errors. i write because the sight of red ink excites me. i write so i can be alone. i write because i can hang out in coffee houses with an excuse to hit on other lonely writers. i write because i'm in love with language. i write because i have nothing else to do.
this needs no explanation
do you remember these?
photo by Jan Saudek
edit: ahem. now the "here" and "here" actually have links.
-something off my wishlist here
& because i felt like something sexy
by Peregrin Honig
"...and it was then that he pulled out of her and she said, "What is it?" and he said, very calmly all things considered, "Say you're pretty."
"Come back inside me."
"When you've said it."
"I'm not, though."
"I think you are. Say, 'Julian thinks I'm pretty.'"
"'Julian thinks I'm pretty.' Please come back."
"When you've said it."
"I'm pretty. I'm pretty."
"Louder and mean it."
"I'm pretty, you son of a bitch!"
He reentered her then, and she'd gone a long ways back but he had nothing but time, he was a master of many situations, none more than bed, and eventually she was close again, on the verge, and he brought her slowly to climax and held her there for as long as he could before she exploded.
- William Goldman, "Tinsel"
the big sneak out & notso subtle hints about my birthday
i was asked to post about my birthday, which is a math equation. 9x9=81
-roller ball pens
-photobooth strips of you
-polaroids you took
-something off my wishlist here
-old copies of Nylon magazine
-600 polaroid film
i'm really looking for anything imaginative, pretty & quirky.
p.s. sorry everyone that i owe letters/tapes/cds too. i'm going to wait till i can organize myself back in boston. watch the mail around the end of august and early september.
edit: please remember i will have a new address starting august 29th. if anyone needs it email me at firstname.lastname@example.org.
absense makes the heart grow fonder
i won't be on AIM/livejournal/blogger for the next week. i'm also trying to avoid email. i'm trying to pull some last minute shit together. so while i'm in lockdown entertain yourselves with the archives or perhaps with some haikus
you may also enjoy:
p.s. here is a picture of a robot:
nothing feels the same
i feel very unhappy. i feel like there's been a house fire and that everything special to me burned up in flames and i'll never get to see it again. my heart is a bit charred and it'll never be quite the same. i'm battling some sort of heartache. it's both emotional and physically and i've felt like i've been dying for the past few days. i feel like any second i might burst out in tears. so far, the count is one on the cry scale, but it seems like it should be a thousand times higher.
i just want to get out of here. i think this house is eating me alive. i can't work. i can't think. i can't read. i only sleep and i barely eat. when i finally step outside the sun feels so good against my skin. even the sweat that pools in my lower back and right under my breasts feels new and welcome.
i feel like i could walk forever and never get tired.
lately, i want everything to end and i don't want anyone to think it a bit strange that i'm a changing person and quite the chameleon. i've decided to stop being nice and be full of sass. i'm a tiny sprite spitfire ugly girl. i'm ready for your lungs, so i can steal your breath. i promise it will be really dirty.
making sense of sleep
i'm red and puffy from not sleeping last night. every single time i would lie down the silence would keep me awake. i tried reading and turning on the fan, but that didn't block out the noise. so i decided as a final effort i would listen to some music. i put in phantom planet's first album and tried to sleep. unfortunately, the cd lead to more thoughts that kept me awake making new mix cds ideas in my head. so i just faked sleep till an acceptable time to be awake in the morning. i wouldn't even have to do that if i wasn't sleeping in the living room, but instead, in a real room that was mine where i could lie awake and not have my grandma say, "you still awake?"
every single morning has fallen into routine. my grandma sees that i'm awake and tries to get the dog to outside, but he refuses and then she says, "you make him" for which i say, "i will take him out in a second." i always take him out and he has no problem wanting to go outside when i do it, except that sometimes he gets scared of invisible bees and scarymen. he always curls up his tail and runs away to the safe haven of the garage.
barbara is still missing. i don't know where she has gotten to, but it's nowhere inside or outside the house. my mom has been calling the shelter every other day and still no black kitty cat with a white tuft of fur on her chest and bright yellow eyes and a joyful meow. she was a crabby scabby old battle axe, but i loved her. she was no good at mousing and i was fine with that. it was just nice to pet her around her scabs and scatch the hairless bits around her neck. silly summer allergies! plus, when i ask the other pets if they have seen her, they don't seem to understand. her daughter, tuffy, doesn't even miss her! oh, it pains me. although, tuffy has moved back into the kitchen cabinet, perhaps this is her way of mourning her mother's loss. i suppose i will never know.
i've been writing david emails everyday and i feel a lot better. i never knew that electronic mail could be so comforting. i don't know what's wrong, but whenever we talk over IM there's something missing for us. he feels it too. he's been calling me on the phone more often, just to talk, except we have nothing to talk about, so we make up stuff to amuse ourselves. it's a lot of fun till his cell phone dies out.
the evolution of turtle
the stages of hair, oh my!
from blue streaks to boring brown.
february 2003||april 2003
august 2003||april 2004
there are so many things to do around the house. i'm barely awake right now, but i feel some sort of obligation to this thing lately. i'm glad that i feel like i need to write. i need to get out a lot of words lately. unfortunately, the academic ones are still not flowing. i wrote one sentence last night:
In the “black” woman’s home, silence is often the only choice.
i'm writing about the silent voice of women in once were warriors
and the color purple
. i can't wait to get this fucking thing done with. only 11 more pages to go.
i really want my cat to return!
i can't wait to impress my dental hygienist with my flossing abilities. i'm so proud of myself for having good dental hygiene lately. seriously, listerine and the whole she-bang. i hope i don't have any cavaties. crossing fingers for more than just nice teeth.
meet me in montauk
i decided i just couldn't go back to sleep. i started thinking while flossing, a chore i have grown to love, and this paper is haunting me. like it should. so here i am working on my paper at 4:30am in the morning. i'm simaltaneously looking up livejournal
icons for eternal sunshine of the spotless mind
. there are times i take boredom and run with it. this morning is one of those times.
barbara is still missing. i think my mom and i are the only ones that seem to care that she is missing from our lives. i have accepted the fact that she has probably died somewhere, but i wish she would just come home. i miss her meow.
i can't take my mind off of boston lately. i feel that dave and i have really grown apart lately. i think it's just the distance playing mind tricks on us, but it feels different in a way i can't explain. i really can't remember things without him, but it's hard to remember the way things were when i was last there. i know things will slowly fall into place as soon as i arrive. i'm just scared that when we kiss it'll feel different. there will be less spark.
i am obviously overanalyzing the situation. i tend to do that.
unusual monday afternoon
she's still missing and i don't know what to do. i decided to just wait it out. i'm scared to death that she died. i do realize it's funny i worded it like that. i'm guessing if she went away from the house to die, she thought it would be easier on us. i just want to see her body and to put it in a safe place. i don't want any other worms to eat her than the worms in our year. the most spooky thing about barbara missing is that we were just talking about when the pets die, what should we do with them? i said i couldn't imagine them in the backyard with d'arcy & billy fish and james guinea pig and alice mouse. they need something a bit bigger with more glitter. their own headstone at least with a nice haiku by me. i miss her so much. she was my crabby scabby (due to allergies & constant scratching) black barbara binks.
in order to get my mind off everything that's going on and not going on in my life. i've slowly become addicted to flickr
and looking for writing jobs in boston on craig's list
. (thanks to numidas for that last one)
i still feel completely lost without any footholds here. i guess once i get back to boston things will start making more sense. there's something that belongs to me there. i feel so out of place and it feels so high school. i just need a giant "kick me" sign.
just another day
there is a tiny mosquito living inside my body sucking me slowly to death. i quite like the feel as he flutters throughout my veins. i wonder if there is a cure for overly dramatic sense of imagination?
the reason i never did drugs was because i was afraid of losing my imagination, and that i would become dependent on drugs for the images i see without them. now my mom and i talk daily about going to coffee houses in amsterdam. i hope she is joking.
my cat is missing.
there was a short spending spree this weekend which resulted in some new cds and underwear. i have ideas for my amateur modeling career. the themes are as follows:
i wonder what kind of person has such a strong desire for new underwear. i cannot stop myself. i want it all. sometimes i hate target for luring me into their store. i think i have a problem.
i want a digital camera.
i've had some shit luck on ebay lately. i keep losing bits like no one's business, but i wonder if spending $70 on a mint 1st edition hardcover book is really that outrageous. regardless, i stopped at $67.
there has been no progress. i'm starting to regret ever becoming so far behind in everything. i can't believe i fell apart so quickly over the course of last school year. i have two papers to do and no desire to do them. i have the research, the books have been read and the topics are interesting enough. i just have zero strength to sit down and get it done. there is no way i'm an academic. i'm wasting away my college years -- quick and fast. i wonder what this year will bring me in classes, grades and new experiences.
i find myself losing my temper so easily nowadays. i'm a lot less tolerant of things than i used to be. i bet it's related to the housewife syndrome that my mom says i'm slowly catching. i can't believe i have used so many adverbs in this entry. i bought an apron today. there is no stopping me.
i am the proud of owner of two new pairs of chuck taylors, and i'm in desperate need of some motivation.
since miss c.
made a posse. i will now attempt to copy her. i have no idea what we would do, probably steal candy from children and knock over old ladies in the crosswalk. not to mention, if we were attacked by the "dawn of the dead" zombies i would be totally covered! thanks dave. also, we are prepared for any kind of stains you can throw on us. thanks justin.
-ghost of abraham lincoln
-frylock from athf
-hunter s. thompson
seriously, i hate chicks. i'm trying to think of some powerful chicks i would want on my team. i thought about courtney love or bjork. i think the crazier the better, but then i remembered that sabrina probably has outdone both of them.
time for tea
yesterday morning i was up bright & early. eight am. yesterday was supposed to be unforgettable. in the good way. instead, i felt cranky and misunderstood. i felt just like a teenager and it was a bad hairday. a really bad hair day.
now it's nearly 1:30am texas time and i'm still awake. i'm wanting to start a new book, but i'm still in the middle of two others. i haven't moved forward and it seems i'm not moving at all.
-painted my toes red
-walked the dog
-changed my clothes twice
-ate two burritos
-played nintendo sixty four
-sent some emails
not much of an accomplishment. barely anything at all. i don't feel awake but i don't feel asleep. i just want to be away. away from here. it's really not that bad, but i just don't feel right. there's something missing. i need some fresh air. i'm tired of pollution warnings.
but at least there's always desaparecidos & conor oberst to make me happy.
i'm all about good body image
why can't everyone be vegetarian?
i can't stand it sometimes. i can't help that i'm being completely close minded right now. i really don't want to meddle in anyone's eating habits or beliefs. i just don't know what to say about it anymore. so i just stay silent. it's really not that big of a deal most of the time, but sometimes it frustrates me so much. at least, i have understanding parents and friends. my boyfriend is extremely supportive and stands up for me, even though i can be ridiculously sensitive about it sometimes. i can't even watch movies with animal abuse involved. it's just not funny. it will never be funny. sometimes i hate cheap laughs.
i've been thinking more about becoming vegan, but i'm not sure yet. i have a lot of thinking to do about it, and it won't happen while i'm still in college.
i'm not sure what to think of this site
. i don't think i have anything else to say on the matter.
i am so restless. i can't stop shaking my leg. i'm sitting and shaking. i'm standing and shaking. i pace and pace and pace. unless i'm asleep, which is still full of strange dreams and uncomfortable positions. i can't stop cleaning -- a simple form of procrastination that is in full swing. i'm so distracted.
i hate loud noises when i'm concentrating. i can't focus on listening to music anymore and i feel angry and stressed out. what is happening to me?
i need a vacation.
you are correct, sir
my titles have stopped making sense for the time being. it's more to put the reader at ease or off guard or something. like WHOA SURPRISE.
anyways, since the death of www.stabthings.com (rip) on the internet, no one can look at this lovely photo anymore, but since i was obsessed with it, i saved it and here you go for your viewing pleasure.
henry rollins's father & mother?
the rain is teasing us again. hot days and overcast nights. if i have to stay in all day at least let me look at the stars. seriously, the state of texas is really rude. man, just rain already. i can't stand 100 degree weather. i will have none of it.
only three more weeks.
on the corner of clear springs and creekbend, there is a family of cockroaches that run really really quickly and fly
. i see them every night while walking my dog and looking through the neighbor's trash for treasures. i'm basically a hobo with a house. i really can stand almost any bug, but cockroaches really scare me.
sometimes i can be such a girl.
i miss my photobooth. i'm afraid it might be missing in action when i arrive home.
i can't sleep at night because i keep thinking about cleaning. i know it's a form of procrastination, but i can't help the nasty look of eye clutter. so until i get this need to clean out, i'm afraid i can't do a thing. unfortunately, my paper can't wait. and neither can anyone else.
seriously, just a few words and paragraphs. i can do this. right?
old habits die hard
there will be no explanation. you will be left to your own devices & ideas.
polka dot soldier
today i woke up and i felt exhausted like i had been up all night crying. the problem being that i haven't shed a single tear in days. my left wrist still aches, but it's slowly fading away. the simple task of walking the dog makes me sweat, and i feel disgusting all day.
the things that made the day bareable are small and forgetable. washing a ton of dishes till my hands were shriveled and there was a mass of bubbles around the sink basin. masturbating and fantasizing about having sex soon and the feel of a cock in my pussy. i miss that tightness. there is nothing that feels the same to me. there is
probably nothing that does feel the same.
two years of being vegetarian has made me very sensitive to the taste of meat. i almost choked today at the sight of chicken bones in the sink and the smell of chicken grease on the dirty plates.
there's a small sign in the back of my freezer that says "no frost" and this amuses me to no end.
i've realized all the things that i need to do. i'm just in love with words and writing and poetry and text. i want to spend every single day writing DIY books and zines and reading amateur authors. sometimes i wonder why i didn't start this sooner. i feel too old.
then i remember i'm just 22, almost 23 (september 9) and that there is tons of time. i have years left of my left and i'm acting like i'm 80 years old and i'm dying tomorrow. i have to get out of this funk. i have to get back to boston. desoto is sucking the life out of me.
it's times like these i'm glad i'm on medication. my poor messed up head.
i was reading this entry
over at one face life
and it made me stop and think about how far i've come from those early days of dating and relationships.
most of the boys that i used to date or make out with or lust over, i don't talk to anymore. i can't tell if this is sad or just normal. occasionally, they come out of nowhere and instant message me, which i'm surprised by at first and then sometimes very annoyed. a lot of them want me back in some sort of way, mostly sexual. it's flattering and utterly disgusting that is the only way that i can be remembered. so many boys seem turned on by my honesty and openess with my body. which i finally learned to share with someone that cares about my mind and personality than just my breasts.
but then some of them don't talk to me at all anymore. some are just gone. i can find them easily enough if i wanted to, but i don't because i don't want to. when you stumble across someone's blog entry about destroying things you made for them and justifying the things you bought for them, then well, you figure it's time to let go. i'm not sure how to say i'm sorry. so i just don't think about it. that's never how i wanted it to be. just sometimes are not what you are think they are, and the boys i used to like were making me more sad than happy. i just knew something wasn't right, and might be the main reason i'm on medication right now. i wasn't
i sad that i had to use the block function on aim. i just needed to cut everyone off that i couldn't deal with anymore. i don't need surprises. i'm much too fragile.
most of my old loves i can't think about anymore. i'm sorry and angry for breaking hearts or letting people go or for the distance that made it impossible. i'm not regretful now though. i'm happily and dandily and head-over-heels in love with my boyfriend. yeah, it was quite a struggle at the beginning, but everything worked out. fate, mayhaps. but i can't forget what brought me here. who made me who i am. each one of those people made me who i am and helped me figure myself out. everyone that i've come in contact with has helped me.
i'm sorry that love of sex has made me make some of the worst decisions in my life, perhaps some of my only regrets in life. i wasn't thinking straight. i didn't know who i was, so i wasn't working from a plane where i understood what i was doing. i guess i can't explain it.
the best thing that has happened to me was living in a new dorm last year and just being on my own. yeah, i made a lot of mistakes, became suicidal again but i also gained new friendships and learned to trust again. i remember saying, "i don't believe in love" and now i can't say that anymore. but i still firmly believe that love is way too mushy and gross for me.
don't you want to fuck every woman you see at least once?
my mind has been pretty clear lately, despite heat exhausation and the huge summer storm three days ago (july 28, wednesday). i'm okay, but there are plenty of neighbors who were flooded out of their house and their belongings line the sidewalks like miles of yard sales. the bike path is ankle deep with mud still
and my dog absolutely loves to drag me into it and then dig and dig till i'm covered in spotty pasty mud dots. i'm not amused.
we lost electricity from midnight till 2:30pm that day. my family and i almost played boardgames in the dark. then the lights came on and we all went to our seperate rooms and watched some tv and rejoiced.
i've started listening to The Wall and i'm not sure what to think about it yet. i want to listen to it all the way through at least 5 times and then listen to Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness and see if i can find the comparisons.
i think i'm getting old. i like buying things for my non-existant home and cleaning supplies. i'm ready to be tucked away in a shady house with a nice view and a cat and guinea pig writing vignettes and novellas. also, silly children's tales about robots, pirates and clouds.
most of all i think i'm ready to retire before i've even started.
lately, i can't control my OCD and i've had my mind on packing and perfection. i want to get all my things together a month ahead of schedule just to be ready. as a child, i used to want to pack my most valuable items, just in case there was a fire.
i think i fell back in love with exploding dog
. it reminds me of sophomore year and justin why
and having the hots for boys i could never have. which also reminds me of stab things (RIP) which i miss reading and the crush that saved me from spiraling down miserably from depression and writer's block.
i want to watch eternal sunshine of the spotless mind again, and i want it to come out on DVD so i can watch it over and over like i used to do with Amelie.
my left wrist hurts. i must be dying.
p.s. i have ideas for a screenplay about the boston red sox inspired by my boyfriend. i hope he likes my idea. & speaking about my boyfriend, there are only 23 more days left and it's going to go fast. i still have so many things left to do in texas.
-fossil rim animal park
-one more thunderstorm
-fried okra extravaganza
p.p.s. this is my 951st post and i can't believe how long i have been writing in this thing.