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September 19th, 2009
02:05 am - HAZELNUT SMORES ARE THE ORDER OF THE DAY
This is an LJ post in honor of SERENA'S BIRTHDAY.
So what is happening with me is a question.
I made hazelnut smores and all was well.
There was champagne and we saw Helen Mirren and I STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING HEY THAT IS A NEWSFLASH. But the play was good.
Now I am drunken. Other people's lives are full of secrets, and mine is full of possibilities and I don't understand any of it, but:
CLARE WILL BE HERE TOMORROW
WHICH IS AWESOME
It's going to be a great weekend, albeit one without any sleepingtimes.
I might apply to graduate school but I hate making decisions.
If you want to be in a soul band with me, you should comment.
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April 10th, 2009
December 14th, 2008
11:31 pm
Guys, this is how Ben Franklin organized his time. We should totally try this, right after I eat my burrito.
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November 18th, 2008
02:25 pm - had we but world enough, and time
I am mightily grumpy, and there's not really a good reason. There's no butter in the butter dish! Haven't I suffered enough?! WHERE WILL IT ALL END ?!INTERROBANG
Ahem. So to combat it, I will make like Hysterium and remind myself that the world is good and there are many things in it that make me inexpressibly happy. Also I like lists. They enable jokes, they're pleasing to the eye, they make things more organized.
(Warning: This list will not have jokes; this list is heartfelt.)
1. Harpo. Also check out Chico's piano-playing. I doubt he'd do Ravel any favors, but no-one can play like he did. Nobody has better timing than the Marx Brothers.
2. Unconventional and in some cases fictional punctuation marks. Oh Herve Bazin, if I could write you a letter it would be filled with love points. I loved you enough to go to the Library of Congress to read you despite the language barrier, and now I want to again. Unfortunately this has led me to the LoC website, where all connections to the catalog are currently in use. Dear Library of Congress website, I have a vat of lye with your name on it.
3. Rahm Emanuel. SHUT UP LEAVE ME ALONE.
4. The idea of making cupcakes with Jessie in California, and the thought (and reality) of raspberries for breakfast and dinner. Also, these coconut pecan cookies I discovered. I never thought they'd be so delicious, but they're out of this world. I am very seriously considering making brownies shaped like Tetris blocks for my brother.
4a. LOOK AT THESE. OH MY GOD I AM GOING TO MAKE THEM.
5. Dear middle name, I heap abuse on you but you are a little bit great. But thank goodness you are only my middle name.
6. I always thought Archibald MacLeish wasn't a very good poet, but he makes me think that maybe every poet has one great poem inside because he wrote this.
6a. God, and while we're on the subject, re-read this one too. I know you read it in high school, but I can't stop reading it today for some reason. I'm gonna get off the poetry train now, though, cause I'll never stop.
7. We're going to a party with Clare and the dresses will be pretty and it will be December in New York, and hey, look, my good mood is back!
8. Ahem. "Don't you write a book about this George Orwell!" huff huff huff write write write
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November 5th, 2008
01:07 am - let's hear it for...
Sometimes I'm so happy to live here, and today is one of those times.
This has been incredible. I can't believe this has happened. I can't stop smiling and/or crying. This is an amazing night and I'm so glad I'm here.
I've never seen so many people so ecstatic.
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July 25th, 2008
10:23 pm - BULLETIN
TO WHOEVER READS THIS:
I am coming to Humboldt County. And Portland.
Flying into Portland August 8th. Gonna hang out with family and some friends. Driving home either the 9th or the 10th. Probably the 10th. Who's gonna be home? I'm flying out of ACV on the 12th and I don't know when I'll be back but maybe Thanksgiving.
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April 3rd, 2007
05:00 pm - For National Poetry Month
Aphrodite Metropolis
Harry loves Myrtle--He has strong arms, from the warehouse,
And on Sunday when they take the bus to emerald meadows he doesn't say:
"What will your chastity amount to when your flesh withers in a little while?"
No,
On Sunday, when they picnic in emerald meadows they look at the Sunday paper:
GIRL SLAYS BANKER-BETRAYER
They spread it around on the grass
BATH-TUB STIRS JERSEY ROW
And then they sit down on it, nice.
Harry doesn't say "Ziggin's Ointment for withered flesh,
Cures thousands of men and women of motes, warts, red veins,
flabby throat, scalp and hair diseases,
Not expensive, and fully guaranteed."
No,
Harry says nothing at all,
He smiles,
And they kiss in the emerald meadows on the Sunday paper.
~Kenneth Fearing
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December 14th, 2005
04:56 pm
In other news (besides the fact that I am done done done with my Criseyde paper), MacKenzie just accepted my proposal of marriage.
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December 6th, 2005
09:49 pm
Colin is CRAZY and is calling people on my cell phone and leaving LOUD messages. I know he left them for both Annemarie and Casey. He is crazy but I love him so please forgive him.
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April 26th, 2005
08:11 pm - FOR KATE
Character: Mercy Lott, late 50s, petite, timid, mousy.
From Humble Boy by Charlotte Jones.
MERCY: For what we are about to receive, which none of you really want to eat but which I stayed up until two in the morning to make and I didn't even have any pimentos and had to improvise round them, may the Lord, whether you believe in him or not, I know you don't, Felix, because you're a scientist so you're not allowed to and anyway, I don't know if I do, because of things like James dying in the way that he did and little Felicity not having an identifiable father and the terrible things that Flora has said to me and the little fat bumblebees just dropping down dead from the sky. And I know that what James said about the finite number of heartbeats should be a comfort, but it is not. And maybe I don't have much of a life but up to now God has filled all the gaps but now there do seem to be holes that He can't fill so perhaps you are right, Flora, because even though I still do the flowers in church and my various parish duties really I would say that I was unofficially on a sabbatical from God at the moment because everything is really so unsettling and I'm sick to my heart of trying all the time, trying, trying, trying, and I don't like it, I don't like it at all, so may the Lord, even though we're not on speaking terms, make us all, and I mean all of us, truly thankful.
I think it's about two minutes, maybe a little more if you use lots of nice pauses which are very appropriate.
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April 23rd, 2005
12:01 pm
Things That Make Me Happy:
Rainbow sprinkles
Kissing someone goodbye when they're coming back
Thunderstorms (when I'm wearing close toed shoes)
Movies about gay republicans
Being able to find the book I'm supposed to read for Monday
NPR on Saturday morning
Suspenders
Daniil Kharms, my wonderful Russian lover who is incidentally deceased, but I don't care about that
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March 14th, 2005
06:55 pm
"My soul is like a duck in cream cheese. Not very happy."
---Colin 1.0's attempt at gothic poetry.
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March 11th, 2005
02:24 pm - DANCE OF THE MIRRORS
You,
You at night and you in the sun,
You, farther than the pylons that walk, charged with light,
You, invincible to change, and vulnerable to every wind that breathes upon these singing wires,
You, and the clouds above the wires, and the sky above the hills,
Yes, you,
Everywhere you, driving, laughing, arranging the day, efficient at the desk and brisk across the phone,
Telegrams and you, cocktails and you,
You and the image in the glass, and the knock at the door, then the second image, and the embrace, the kiss,
You, yes,
You, beneath the sculptured slab and raised mound, lost with the echo of Handel among catherdral beams---
You,
And all of the things that the world ignores, all of the things that the world has forgotten or never known,
You and the glow-worm, you and the rainbow, and the desert mirage, and the Northern Lights,
You, the footstep, you, the drumbeat and the dance, you, the trigger, the bullet, the target, and the shield.
~kenneth fearing
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February 22nd, 2005
01:16 am - Reason #165 that my brother is awesome
Sam's 17th birthday is coming up and I asked if he'd prefer a male or female prostitute as a present. After he hemmed and hawed for a few minutes, I suggested one of each. He replied: "Now you're talking. I could make them duel to the death with laser guns."
Me: "Sam, that's not what prostitutes are for."
Sam: "But they'll do it if you pay them extra. The one who wins gets to go free."
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January 29th, 2005
04:57 pm
nolite te bastardes carborundorum.
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January 24th, 2005
04:51 pm - oh my god. I love Charles Bukowski.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?
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December 9th, 2004
04:22 pm
She sleeps, lips round, see how at rest,
How dark the hair, unstrung with all the world;
See the desirable eyes, how still, how white, sealed to all faces, locked agaisnt ruin, favor, and every risk,
Nothing behind them now but a pale mirage,
Through which the night-time ragman of the street belows moves in a stiff and slow ballet,
Rhythmic from door to door, hallway to curb and gutter to stoop, bat's eyes bright, ravenous, ravenous for the carrion found and brought by tireless fingers to unreal lips;
Her hand relaxed beside the enchanted head, mouth red, small,
See how at peace the human form can be, whose sister, whose sweetheart, daughter of whom, and now the adorable ears, coral and pink,
Deaf to every footfall, every voice,
Midnight threats, the rancor stifled in rented bedrooms, appeals urged across kitchen tables and the fury that shouts them down, gunfire, screams, the sound of pursuit,
All of these less than the thunderous wings of a moth that circles here in the room where she sleeps,
Sleeps, dreaming that she sleeps and dreams.
--kenneth fearing
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December 7th, 2004
December 5th, 2004
06:30 pm
i was talking to a moth
the other evening
he was trying to break into
an electric light bulb
and fry himself on the wires
why do you fellows
pull this stunt i asked him
because it is the conventional
thing for moths or why
if that had been an uncovered
candle instead of an electric
light bulb you would
now be a small unsightly cinder
have you no sense
plenty of it he answered
but at times we get tired
of using it
we get bored with the routine
and crave beauty
and excitement
fire is beautiful
and we know that if we get
too close it will kill us
but what does that matter
it is better to be happy
for a moment
and be burned up with beauty
than to live a long time
and be bored all the while
so we wad all our life up
into one little roll
and then we shoot the roll
that is what life is for
it is better to be a part of beauty
for one instant and then cease to
exist than to exist forever
and never be a part of beauty
our attitude toward life
is come easy go easy
we are like human beings
used to be before they became
too civilized to enjoy themselves
and before i could argue him
out of his philosophy
he went and immolated himself
on a patent cigar lighter
i do not agree with him
myself i would rather have
half the happiness and twice
the longevity
but at the same time i wish
there was something i wanted
as badly as he wanted to fry himself
archy
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November 17th, 2004
08:11 pm
Everybody go to this site
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