Thursday, October 30, 2008

let's do this

Registering for classes is always a big deal to me or whatever.

ENGL202 Modern British & American Poetry TR 9:30-10:45
ENGL219  Westerns T 1:30-4:40
ENGL239  Film Directors MW 11:00-12:15
ENGL315A Med. & Ren. Women Writers  TR 11:00-12:15
ENGL373  Japanese & Asian Cinema W 1:30-4:40

I am pleased.  
I feel kind of left out in that I've still never done any "Independent Study" and/or "Honors"-type stuff.  Should I have done this shit?  Does it matter?  


Been cleaning things out, rearranging.  

Everything's pretty okay.  I've hit the wall in the semester where I can no longer fluidly bullshit things like response papers; I'm dry.  I'd estimate I've written about 25 of those-type things, at least, since August.  Is that ridiculous?  This is the part of the semester where I get really irritated at teachers and their massive pet projects they think are fun and educational and not making me feel like crying with frustration.  I'm kind of selfish.  Underprivileged youths in far-away countries would kill a mighty boar with his own tusk to be able to undertake an 8-page research project.     

I'm reading this book:
I shouldn't be reading this book because it's not for a class, though it ties in well with the first half of my Early American Lit class.  I think I need to take a more Puritanical approach to education.    
I'm waiting to register.  The paper schedule-of-classes thing told me I could register at 9, which I should have double-checked, because it's actually 10.  The classes I want are all still pretty well-open, though.

(fingers, crossing of)

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Monday, October 27, 2008

visiting home

Kelly ran up right away and was cute and a dog, as she tends to be.  The fur all along the side of her neck was stiff, and I noticed a red substance on her collar.  Thinking she'd hurt herself, I asked my mom what had happened.  
"Oh, your dad spilled ketchup everywhere earlier!"

The wind today was like the world was being made again, scoured and wild.  When it groped you up and down you could feel the animals on the verge of creation, galloping and veering on shaky legs.  
We snuck up on three deer as they laid in the thicket of hackberries, our scent and footfalls spirited away over the golden grass with the corkscrewing cornhusks.  

Friday, October 24, 2008


I'll write more shit in here on a daily basis soon.  I feel guilty when I don't.  Just that I'm missing things, and so often the things that go undocumented fade to nothing, and then I'll just be sitting on a mighty mountain of nothings and that will be my life.  

There's a great part at the end of "The Neverending Story" (the book, FUCK that movie(s), the book is a stunning work of fiction that makes me feel such ways), where Bastien loses his memory and is trapped in some sort of memory mine where all forgotten memories ever are frozen in ice, and he has to mine them for years and years until he finds his father trapped in a memory and he can remember and go home.  
I need to read that again.
But anyway, that's what it's like, see.  

My trip to Minneapolis was hard on me, mostly in a mental way that I can't really pin down.  I've felt "different" since.  All I want to do is travel to every place, it doesn't matter how small or far away, to see the ways each of the places makes me feel and changes me, ms. malleable.
I've been feeling manic, like my body and mind want to move faster faster faster but nothing else can catch up, and my heart's like "woah, fuck" and I'm twitchy and on the edge of panic.  But you can't see from the outside.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

got worried

today that wanting something real bad is just a form of narcissism.  Like, when you want something so bad you feel like you deserve it, and there is only one wicked obstacle in your way, you're really just thinking too highly of yourself.

Then I convinced myself it was okay, and I was overcomplicating a basic human thing into a dual cruelty.  Try to stop "wanting," try to find peace and respite from needing a something-or-other, and knowing it will please you.  

Saturday, October 18, 2008

didn't realize til yesterday

how miserably sick of lincoln I am.

hint: not in lincoln now.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008


I need to stop getting bojangled and acting on urges write my little retard poeticalitical manifestos.

I got too much shit to do lately, mostly shit I don't want to do.  But I'll do it.  I don't know, will it bore you if I complain about homework?  Boo hoo, middle-class white girl?  I'll leave it for now.

I've been shown incredible kindness recently, from close friends and strangers.  It makes me feel good, and good.  I really love anyone who takes the time to consider and be nice to me, you have no idea.  I AM EASILY BOUGHT.

Why do jeans often have what look like little button-halves where the pockets' attach to the pants?  Is it a grommet-type thing, for sturdiness?  Ornamental?  Or can you attach little things with the matching (female) snap button half?  If not, did I just invent a thing that could do that?  Patent pending.

I've agreed to go to Minneapolis Friday-Monday with my mom, to see my brother.  WHY DID I AGREE TO THIS.  I'm really pretty excited but I keep forgetting it means two 6-ish hour trips without smoking, which doesn't sound so bad now that I type it, but it's in the car.  With my mom.  Smokers know what I'm talking about.  

I dreamed of saving wet cats and reading Latin aloud.

Monday, October 13, 2008

gettin' political

Sometimes keeping myself to measured, rational thoughts makes me feel like I'm ripe to explode.  
I see the connections, I see everything the the past few centuries that influenced America to its current manifestation, a festering infestation, sequestered idiot nation.  It's just that I can't do anything about it; I can't make them understand me.
Let's rewind to survival, let's let the thinkers think and the knowers know by candlelight when the muskets are sleeping silent, let's all of us have been born big men with big cocks and bigger swords and let's make our soft silent ladies from flesh that forgot how to feel and let's make it remember, slick like dolphin and stretched by gravity, hard bones, soft skin, where did our tails go, flexible, we forgot how to balance.
I'm sorry about this, really, sometimes I got to say things got to get em out

Sunday, October 12, 2008


Makes dinner feel like genocide.

(kraft whole wheat mac & cheese with a little black pepper, chili powder, and garlic powder; old shredded sharp cheddar; octodog)


Accidentally downloaded the entire series in Japanese.
God, though, the art.  God damn.  

Saturday, October 11, 2008

slim goodbody


Pinching yourself with the pads of your fingertips hurts more than pinching with nails.  
I say "yourself" because I'm assuming that when you pinch yourself to see if you're awake your fingers instinctively try not to do much damage.  Nails could probably fuck a body up more if you were trying to hurt someone.

Edit, Memory:  In third grade I got to thinking it was a funny thing to scratch people with my nails, like it made me powerful and interesting and I was way too into animals or something, I don't really know why.  We used to touch each other so easily then.  Anyway, because of this my teacher had to sit down and have a talk with the class in a move of kindness and cruelty (I can't face one-on-one confrontations with authority without feeling deeply disturbed; The whole class know who she was talking about.).  We then had to watch a terrifying video about AIDS (what the fuck?  I don't think it specifically said "scratching someone" was dangerous but I remember feeling like I was a potential AIDS-spreader.  It was awful.) and have a talk about it, and I felt really weird because my good friend kept saying "sex," not just to say "sex" but asking questions about the video which explained how you could get AIDS , and man it made me so uncomfortable that she was saying that word.  The video was by that creepy fucking guy who would wear skin-tight bodysuits often colored nude with a single system of the human body painted on.  I think he had a curly mullet.  

the bridge is back

The O Street bridge opened yesterday, cutting about 10 minutes off my commute time.  
It has been one year.
I'd like to make a bet with myself to see how many times I try to take the detour, still, out of muscle memory (cars are, oddly or not-so-oddly, extensions of ourselves; I read an article somewhere that explained this, how people always instead of saying "He hit my car with his car!" will say "He hit me!").  
I will miss the Sun Valley detour, which takes one past lakes and marshy ditches; you might see a heron someday and almost swerve off the road, you might see a turtle and stop to tote him away from danger.
It made my day yesterday, though.  It is so rare that things get easier for me, instead of more difficult.  
The leaves are purple and yellow.
The gulls are back.
I dreamed of yellow leaves.
I dreamed of plummeting for miles and landing softly as thistledown.  
The gulls, and the winds.

Thursday, October 9, 2008

let's talk about copper

"Copper (pronounced /ˈkɒpɚ/) is a chemical element with the symbol Cu (Latin: cuprum) and atomic number 29. It is a ductile metal with excellent electrical conductivity. Copper is rather supple in its pure state and has a pinkish luster which is (beside gold) unusual for metals, which are normally silvery white. It is used as a heat conductor, an electrical conductor, as a building material and as a constituent of various metal alloys.""Copper is an essential trace nutrient to all high plants and animals. In animals, including humans, it is found primarily in the bloodstream, as a co-factor in various enzymes and in copper-based pigments. However, in sufficient amounts, copper can be poisonous and even fatal to organisms.
Copper has played a significant part in the history of mankind, which has used the easily accessible uncompounded metal for thousands of years. Evidence has been preserved from several early civilizations of the use of copper. In the roman era, copper was principally mined on Cyprus, hence the origin of the name of the metal as Cyprium, "metal of Cyprus", later shortened to Cuprum."In Greek the metal was known by the name chalkos (χαλκός). Copper was a very important resource for the Romans, Greeks and other ancient peoples. In Roman times, it became known as aes Cyprium (aes being the generic Latin term for copper alloys such as bronze and other metals, and Cyprium because so much of it was mined in Cyprus). From this, the phrase was simplified to cuprum and then eventually Anglicized into the English copper. Copper was associated with the goddess Aphrodite/Venus in mythology and alchemy, owing to its lustrous beauty, its ancient use in producing mirrors, and its association with Cyprus, which was sacred to the goddess. In astrology alchemy the seven heavenly bodies known to the ancients were associated with seven metals also known in antiquity, and Venus was assigned to copper."
"Copper is germicidal, via the oligodynamic effect. For example, brass doorknobs disinfect themselves of many bacteria within a period of eight hours.[18] Antimicrobial properties of copper are effective against MRSA,[19] Escherichia coli[20] and other pathogens.[21][22][23] In colder temperature, longer time is required to kill bacteria."


I got ready for the clean part poetry thing, put on a dress and heels, then ran late and couldn't find a parking spot close enough to make it in time in the heels, so I came home.

I need more mirrors everywhere so I can grin sarcastic and flip myself off as often as it's warranted.  I don't know the exact name for the emotion described by that action, but I feel it a lot.  

Wednesday, October 8, 2008


All the notebooks I use are slowly becoming covered in rough sketches of animals, mostly dogs.  I don't know why this habit comes and goes, but it usually happens when I'm feeling lonely or bored.  I'm not really too lonesome lately so I think it's just classes starting to drag and grate, and the two-day respite called "Fall Break" feels like a middle finger, but it's a fingering I'm looking forward to.  
I wish sometimes I'd gone to a college that had the three-week classes.  For three weeks, you take one or two classes, then you're done with that class.  It's the perfect amount of time, for me; summer classes (3 and 5 week) were a delight and a breeze.  I didn't get bored, and I didn't start staring at my each of my professors' every detail more and more and analyzing every little thing about them and wondering what they're like just chatting like with their boy-or-girlfriends and not making all like extra special eye-contact with you and speaking loudly and enthusiastically.  
I've thought about going into teaching at a higher level before but I just know that I'd start out all cheery go-getter at first then about three to five weeks in I would become bored and they'd find out how many shits I really give (few).  Are there any professors as cruel, lazy, and false as I would be?  I don't belong guiding anyone's future.
I went off a little, there.  Anyway: bored.  When I said I wasn't lonely earlier I didn't think to mention that way in which we're really always alone with ourselves, I got that hard.     

Monday, October 6, 2008

sleep mode

Having trouble wanting to write in here.  Dreams too beautiful to describe; life too monotonous.  
It'll come back.

I feel like I'm really missing out on something lately but I don't know what.  Like I'm not feeling things enough, or I'm saying the same words too often, or performing the same actions like a ro-bot.  
I think this means I need a big change.  
The dreams are either lovely or, all the time lately, almost every night, I get "caught" doing something minor I'm not supposed to and a man will come attack me with inappropriate rage for my indiscretion.  I walk through the store anti-theft doorway things and they go off and a man, I can see him coming from the distance, always, attacks me.  I drive my car into an area I'm not sure I can go to and get out and a man attacks me.  I walk into the wrong room and a man attacks me.  The whole time I'm putting my arms up submissively and saying I'm sorry but it only makes him more angry.  

Last weekend I took a country road-trip and I could see the stars, and it made me so happy, felt like coming home.  The grass and fences blue-black in the the moonlight sweeping by, lining the gravel road and the crunch of it, the critters in the brush flashing their magic eyes at the headlights, and the quiet of it, and the schizophrenic radio playing spanish guitar the nu-metal then '80s dance then ozzy then piano concerto, the grape-flavored blunt and the stink of manure I pretend to hate when other people do because I don't want to be that person who announces they like an ill-thought-of thing to be different, the sickle moon getting low and golden, and the stars.  
I can pretend to be a hip kid all I want but this landscape is all really really truly truly where I come from, really real, truly true.   

Sunday, October 5, 2008

let me just say

I mostly pretend not to see people, outside, when walking around.  It is a selfish thing because it forces all my interactions with mere acquaintances to be ones they initiate, so I know that they actually want to talk to me.
It is an unselfish thing because I know it makes things easier for a few, just like me.  We don't need to acknowledge that we know each other, we know, we know.

Saturday, October 4, 2008


I'm getting tired of one-trick ponies.

I am a dynamic animal.
I want to be a
I am the lady dynamo.  

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

the mexican couple

is fighting outside their apartment, probably so their adorable little kid can't hear. :(  
I wish I knew what she was mad about, her voice gallops and crescendos like birdsong and makes me very glad she isn't mad at me.


I'd had a shite day at class/work, but a small parcel from Japan was waiting in the mailbox to brighten my spirits.  I've tried them all and they are amazing, really, fuck, goddamn, in a way that makes you wonder why most American candy sucks so hard.  
Stay tuned for a full-length photo and tasting review, probably while I'm watching my subtitled Death Note dvd rips and masturbating furiously to fantastic manga scenes of blushing girls being deflowered by tentacles.