| best day everrr |
[Dec. 16th, 2009|07:44 pm] |
slept til what i thought was 3 but when i went to pick up my prescription i found out it was actually only 1. GAINED TWO HOURS! BRILLIANT!
finished my portfolio! cleaned my room! did my laundry! tidied my life up!
got highhhhhh
hung out with the cats
took my time
my story is as done as it will ever be
i started a new one
OH! And I lost my cellphone at the holiday party because I was a drunk, sparkling mess. and I didn't freak out about it because I now realize that I lose something like every single day and I simply can't waste my energy beating myself up for it. And I told myself it was probably in the van I rode in to the uh, "after party" (watching brad neely videos) and you know what? IT WAS.
...and now this darlin' is coming over
here is a picture from the Otherside Cafe Holiday party
best dressed wins the prize of a night in a new hotel
Jenna, Anya and Myself
Anya won. She is a Russian minx. There isn't any coffee in that cup. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 16th, 2009|04:47 pm] |
'ey brah'
I am putting together the final portfolio for my writing class. It's mostly poetry and I am not big on the poetry, what with all the convoluted crap and general pretense and self idolatry and whatnot. this generalized apathy towards the form contrasts fiercely with what happens in my guts when i find a poet that i enjoy. the right piece can elevate my mood for weeks. I am going to be taking a poetry class next semester, but only because the professor likes me and he's all prestigious and shit, so I figure I should just enjoy his educational embrace and write some f'ing poems.
Had drinx with this other Profess of poems and he was saying he doesn't much care for poetry either and yet and yet... he said
WHO READS NOVELS? everyone
WHO LISTENS TO MUSIC? everyone
WHO WATCHES FILMS? everyone
WHO READS POETRY? poets.
WHAT IS UP WITH THAT?
A problem I am having is that I am not so into "conflict" aka "a story" or "a progression" and I've yet to determine how to turn my love for poignant snapshots into something compelling beyond its form. Do you want to read a book that is comprised of emotional little tweets about surrounding humans? No? Me neither.
There is this really sweet guy coming over tonight. We are going to watch The Holy Mountain. |
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| in anticipation of a harmony |
[Dec. 16th, 2009|04:41 pm] |
i watch you in the morning
you are humming, fixing him
a garnished diner breakfast
with scrambled eggs and sausage
he keeps the door closed and the mattress bare
still
you glow with all the grace
of a mother mary nightlight
your knees touch
anyone's but mine
and rarely each other
i hear the way he holds you
axiomatic lovemaking
the moan
and snore
on couches and in hallways
i hold myself; a great ape
stressed shoulders and guilty knuckles dragging
though common spaces-
shared showers, slender stairwells
singing in my bedroom. i sing solitary-
a swan song, a castrated choir boy,
a Mangum for the new millennium
do you know sound carries? |
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