I stopped going to class. I hope my mom doesn't read this journal. Mindy, don't leave this page open if you ever check this journal.

Excerpt from Real Journal (I can't type Real Things without feeling a) embarrassed/judged/exposing too much to complete strangers b) self-absorbed, but then again, if you think about typhoons in the Philippines all ( Read more... )

I'm strongly of the opinion that other-way umbrella walkers have a moral & civic obligation to peer out from under their umbrellas to make sure they don't clash spokes with opposite-direction-of-rain-/wind umbrella walkers, who can't without drowning. Thanks.

So I learned how to play "Lay Lady Lay" on the guitar. G, Bm, F, Am, over & over, never loses that haunting quality. Don't we all want to be electrified? Isn't that why we do things we shouldn't do, watch movies, watch pretty people walking?  Why limit sensation when you can have it to bursting whenever you want? Easy: to preserve a semblance of ( Read more... )

complexitish: because i can't sleep ( Read more... )

So today I slept through all of my classes, found out that our cafeteria hires released convicts who've already done their time in a special deal with the nearby Trenton prison (maximum security?! sure, why not?), danced around with Co in a skirt & high heels & medicinal rum, haven't redeemed myself at all yet. But I did clean the room. I vacuumed ( Read more... )

    "Bees, too, have a very sophisticated means of communication. When a bee finds a lush, pollen-rich field of flowers, it returns to the hive and performs a dance. The dance is specific to the pollen's location, so bee dances differ according to facts, according to the bee's experience. But in this case, too, communication is not language: the ( Read more... )

my mom has these age-old, non-porous bandaids from at least the '80s, that i just smothered my painful shaving war wound with.
i feel like i can trust these Blanket Bandaids.
i feel like i can really trust them.

What the Piggolo Sounds Like: A Poem
(composed with my own sweat & tears during a piccolo masterclass in lieu of taking Real Notes/Listening/Caring At All, Ever)

little piglet squeals
suicide
new-born Mariah Carey octuplets
Satan
rockets gambolling, pitched as high as they are from Earth
the stuff Rod McKuen probably hum(s)(med)
rainbows "passing gas"
( Read more... )

"Let us suppose, gentlemen, that man is not stupid. (And really, you cannot say he is stupid, if only for the reason that if he is stupid, then who is intelligent?) But even if he isn't stupid, he is nevertheless monstrously ungrateful! Phenomenally ungrateful! I even think that the best definition of man is: a biped, ungrateful." (32)

Notes from ( Read more... )