hug the dark

2011-09-06T22:57:00.000-07:00

YA'LL SHOULD CHECK OUT MEAN BONES, MY NEW BLOG

2011-02-13T22:33:00.001-08:00

i haven't been able to concentrate since getting home from work today. checking tumblr obsessively like the world's going to end. "tried" reading a book for tuesday. "tried" writing a paper on lolita. "tried" to muster the courage to read over the nine pages of my thesis that i have written so far. succeeded in buying a yoga dvd, a subscription to bitch magazine, and a pair of shoes, all online. people haunt facebook for hours or watch movies and tv shows to procrastinate; i shop. should probably consider doing the former often.
well tomorrow is valentine's day and i'm super stoked because andy and i no longer celebrate holidays and it's awesome.

2010-11-18T20:32:00.000-08:00

I'm tired. I always feel like writing when I'm tired, then I wake up five hours later with the lights still on and ink smeared on my pillow.

I had a rush of happiness a few days ago and I'm trying to recapture that feeling. I read somewhere that good things happen to people who write down all the good things that happen to them. I would like to start doing that, but whenever I begin a writing endeavor, I feel like I have to buy a new journal, and I don't have enough money or room for a new journal right now. So I'll put some things here, for now. I've felt particularly lucky these past few weeks. Finding Tina at Animal Control has brought me the most happiness. Then the little things: acing school, my warm bed on cold mornings, finally finishing my departmental application for graduate school. Drawing check marks inside of my planner. Andy, the only person that understands and can relate to the things that go on inside my head and my heart. Sometimes I devote so much of myself to caring about him that I forget to notice how he cares for me. Then I open my eyes and soak it in and it feels nice, in a selfish way, I know.

I've learned the key to happiness:
Take an anti-depressant and after a month of numbness, get off of it without weaning. I'm not kidding. You have no idea how great feelings of all kinds are until you lose all of them completely. Like having a beer after not drinking for months.

future's so bright?

2010-10-27T23:39:00.000-07:00

This doesn't count as speaking aloud, right? Because my life is seemingly coming together all of the sudden and I really don't want to jinx it. As I finish my applications to PSU, picking up transcripts and letters of recommendation and getting ready to send everything in, I feel as though everything I've been brainstorming and fantasizing about over the past few months is finally materializing into something tangible.
I don't like theoretical plans and fantasies, probably because I'm too cynical (I prefer to call it "realistic"). I don't make resolutions that I know I'm not capable of going through with. I don't like imagining the future because it's almost guaranteed to not pan out the way I would like it to. The solid, the tangible, is what I strive for. And I may be approaching it.
I guess it's nice to be wrapping up my final year of college feeling like it wasn't wasted time or a torturous experience. When I started, I was anything but thrilled with the demographic of the U of A campus, and I let that negatively affect my experience as a whole. And I still resent the utter devaluation of the humanities at the school. But as I look at my experience in the English department as a whole, I'm nothing but happy with all I've learned and accomplished. I love learning, and I love what I'm doing, and that feels good. I also love what I want to do in the immediate future, but I'm not going to lie to myself and say that isn't likely to change.

2010-09-07T18:02:00.000-07:00

and so it goes.
I am applying for graduate school. I mean, I am, quite literally, applying for one graduate program. I better get in, right?! Either way, it seems my days in Tucson are numbered, and right now I feel more than ready to leave. I can feel myself die inside every day that I spend at Xoom Juice, and on campus, or drinking on 4th. And every status update and uploaded picture I see. I'm tired of people, I'm tired of all kinds of people. I'm tired of people who can't take care of themselves, people who lack consciences, people who can't keep the simplest of promises, people who are ignorant of the enigma that is English grammar. I'm tired of hearing other people's perceptions of themselves, because they always seem to be the opposite. Those who claim to be cynical smile a lot more than most. People who label themselves "fun-loving" tend to be the absolute worst company. We should all resolve to not label ourselves, negatively or positively, because, trust me, you aren't whatever it is you think you are.

home again, unfortunately

2010-08-15T20:54:00.000-07:00

hello, i've returned from my (too) short but (too) sweet rendezvous to austin. it was a dream, minus the humid heat and the stomach bug i inconveniently acquired. lots of food, beer, music . . . my three favorite things. naturally, i fell head over heels in love with the city. i couldn't convey its perfection if i tried, so . . . i won't. in short, it was the greatest break from tucson/summer/work i could ask for, but it's also beautiful to come home to a southwest sunset, complete with lightening and thunder in the distance.

i didn't take many pictures on the trip, and the ones i did have yet to be developed, but i just snapped some of what i bought while in austin. here's my loot:

hello kitty pens from toy joy, buddhist calendar for my mom, vintage fantasy postcard and mexican photograph from tesoros, antique letter cards from uncommon objects, rooster tin from the turquoise door, wildflower seeds from zilker botanical garden, stickers from toy joy, and an antique tin from uncommon objects.

better picture of the antique cards. m for miranda and d for donna, my mom.

motafuckin' HOBIE on my bed with my amazing antique tin. it will hold either sewing scraps or drug paraphernalia . . . i can't decide.

better picture of the French fantasy postcard dated 1910, which i cannot stop looking at. it doesn't even make sense.

midnight to noon, i'm a desert child

2010-06-29T11:58:00.000-07:00

I knew I was neglecting something. A decent-sized post about the state of my life is on its way. But for now, really quickly, here's a steam of consciousness list:

riding to work every day, cutting all animal products out of my life, saving money, spending money (internet shopping, you will be the death of me), daydreaming about big cities, figuring out life after graduation, itching for my filofax to arrive in the mail, weaning off my meds, smelling like a hobo everyday

o man

2010-05-28T20:33:00.000-07:00

I'm tipsy and still covered in mint-green paint. Which looks amazing in my new room. Which matches my chipped nail-polish. I'm sorta loving life right now. I would entirely love it if I wasn't stressing about successfully moving all of my and Andy's things out of here in two days AS WELL AS cleaning this house ceiling to floor. AND transporting Tina. Godammit. Sometimes I make things impossibly difficult.

finally!

2010-05-11T22:02:00.000-07:00

Yes, yes, I am finished with my junior year of college. I'm usually the one person out of all my friends who has her most difficult final at 8 on Friday morning, but for the very first time in my college career, I'm finished on a Tuesday. It feels glorious. I'm not feeling all this pressure to go out and party and I like it.

Today I:

- returned the 13 library books I had checked out and read over the past semester for my two 20-page research papers. It felt so good to drop them into the return box at the library! I had to carry them all in two bags and I think I looked a little goofy lugging them across campus.

- organized my favorites bar, which was getting unorganized and out of control.

- organized my bookcase, which seems a little silly since I'll be moving out of here before the month ends. I will miss these built-in bookcases by the fireplace (not to mention all the wood paneling) in this house. I'm scouring craigslist for something to hold all of my books.

- cleaned out my makeup bag and bought some new shit for it. I don't wear makeup at work and school, but I effing love makeup. Like, expensive makeup that I shouldn't buy. Like, MAC and Stila shit that costs $30 for blush or whatever. I have lots of problems, but I'm not working on this one currently and it's bad.

- ventured to the parents' house and went through all of my old CDs. I'll be honest: I'm not one of those people who has deep emotional connections to objects. Other than my Bobo bear and my journal, I wouldn't be too upset if I had to get rid of everything I own. In fact, I think I like throwing/giving things away a little too much. Thus, I have a box of CDs in my car that needs to be sold to Zia or Bookman's. Next to the trash bag of clothes I need to drop off at Salvation Army.

- ate Inn-and-Out with Andy and listened to the most obnoxious (well, that goes without saying) sorority girls gossip about their friends and say, "If I had a boyfriend here, I would definitely cheat on him when I go back home for the summer." GO BACK TO CALI ALREADY. When I'm at work helping these idiots, I just have to remind myself that after Friday, they will be gone.

- watched LOST (boring). Guess what, Amanda! My pa is going to be our designated driver for the LOST finale. You best take off work for that.

Yay, productivity! Now to find a house and figure out what is going on with my schedule for next semester. I'm currently signed up for 2 classes, and I can't figure out this new system. I don't even think I can register anymore. Help me.

2010-04-29T20:57:00.000-07:00

I seriously cried while I was writing my analysis of this poem in my 17-page paper on W.B. Yeats WHICH I JUST FINISHED YEEEEE

This is my favorite poem. I want someone to read it at my funeral, for serious. It's so beautiful and hopeful and magical and gahh. everything good.

"Lapis Lazuli"

I have heard that hysterical women say
They are sick of the palette and fiddle-bow,
Of poets that are always gay,
For everybody knows or else should know
That if nothing drastic is done
Aeroplane and Zeppelin will come out,
Pitch like King Billy bomb-balls in
Until the town lie beaten flat.

All perform their tragic play,
There struts Hamlet, there is Lear,
That's Ophelia, that Cordelia;
Yet they, should the last scene be there,
The great stage curtain about to drop,
If worthy their prominent part in the play,
Do not break up their lines to weep.
They know that Hamlet and Lear are gay;
Gaiety transfiguring all that dread.
All men have aimed at, found and lost;
Black out; Heaven blazing into the head:
Tragedy wrought to its uttermost.
Though Hamlet rambles and Lear rages,
And all the drop-scenes drop at once
Upon a hundred thousand stages,
It cannot grow by an inch or an ounce.

On their own feet they came, or on shipboard,
Camel-back, horseback, ass-back, mule-back,
Old civilisations put to the sword.
Then they and their wisdom went to rack:
No handiwork of Callimachus,
Who handled marble as if it were bronze,
Made draperies that seemed to rise
When sea-wind swept the corner, stands;
His long lamp-chimney shaped like the stem
Of a slender palm, stood but a day;
All things fall and are built again,
And those that build them again are gay.

Two Chinamen, behind them a third,
Are carved in lapis lazuli,
Over them flies a long-legged bird,
A symbol of longevity;
The third, doubtless a serving-man,
Carries a musical instmment.

Every discolouration of the stone,
Every accidental crack or dent,
Seems a water-course or an avalanche,
Or lofty slope where it still snows
Though doubtless plum or cherry-branch
Sweetens the little half-way house
Those Chinamen climb towards, and I
Delight to imagine them seated there;
There, on the mountain and the sky,
On all the tragic scene they stare.
One asks for mournful melodies;
Accomplished fingers begin to play.
Their eyes mid many wrinkles, their eyes,
Their ancient, glittering eyes, are gay.

2010-04-24T11:28:00.000-07:00

Gah! My life will be so different in about a month! It's scary.

2010-04-18T10:29:00.000-07:00

I usually check out PostSecret every Sunday morning as a habit I developed in high school. I used to be really into it back then, but now I find it terribly corny and/or pointless. Yet, like the Dirty (ugh), I keep up with it now and then out of boredom and slight curiosity. I should stop looking at these pieces of shit websites. The Dirty, for obvious reasons, should not exist. But the more I look at PostSecret, the more I realize what crap it is. This week there are four anti-choice secrets in a row, and an email message calling the site out on its biased, misogynist bullshit. Despite the email message, however, there isn't one secret to balance out the obvious bias and ideology that's going on here. FUCK THAT.

2010-03-27T19:46:00.000-07:00

I don't have much to say, as usual, but I thought I'd mention that for the first time in a while I feel particularly good. I've been more receptive to stepping outside of my comfort zone, having a good time, and spending time with people, all without conscious effort. On the level of consciousness, I've been trying not to bitch everyone out and tolerate them instead. I'm nowhere near perfect (as exhibited in my outburst on Niles), but I'm trying. Also, did you know that I'm on schizo/bi-polar drugs? Yeah, it's fucking weird.

(whisk maracas)

just ragin'

2010-03-23T17:55:00.000-07:00

God, I suck at posting. Lately I can't write decently.

I've been on a rage streak since school started (aka today). Everything pisses me off to no end. I filled out my census this morning and it was ridiculous how mad it made me. Today Andy forgot to lower my bike seat and I'm too frail to do it myself so I was late for my test. During my test the girl that always has to take her shoes off to reveal her janky toes DID and I was furious. In my last class everyone talked shit about Lady Gaga and Alexander McQueen but of course my social anxiety was inflamed by my anger so all I could think was FUUUCCKKK. Then I walked outside in shorts and sandals to cold rain. What the fuck? Oh and I'm trying to sell shit on Craigslist because I'm broke and all I'm getting is South Africans who want to scam me or robots. AND I fucked up my sewing machine and it costs $80 dollars to repair (although when they told me that I said that I'm on a budget and have boobs, well I didn't say that because it's obvious, and they said they'd try to lower the price). ANWAY everything is bullshit. But not in that depressing, I might as well die way, but in that ironic WHOOP-DEE-DOO way, you know?

Let's see, what else is new...I have some hash but I don't know where it came from. Like I looked at my stash of shitty weed and it was there and I was like...what? Also, Oscar Zeta Acosta (aka Dr. Gonzo) is the shit. That's all i got guys.

PS Whenever I feel down I look at this picture:

I think it's because I imagine myself as red shirt dude.

2010-03-11T22:05:00.000-08:00

Bahh Telephone is out guys:

I'll write more about it later when I get the chance. All I gotta say is Beyonce with bangs is A+, I don't want to see her any other way. I also love Gaga's yellow hair, but she's looking a little skeletal. It frightens me. But those ciggy glasses....

I almost forgot how much I adore Beyonce. I like this:

2010-02-16T20:26:00.000-08:00

I should (fingers crossed) start getting the internet at my house tomorrow, and is it not surprising that I have an entire to-do list of youtube videos, blogs, and wikipedia entries (not to mention lostpedia...) to catch up with? No, not at all. Without the internet, I watch eight episodes in a row of It's Always Sunny and get pretty fucking close to catching up with all my reading for ENGL 496...we're doing Invisible Man and the autobiography of Malcolm X this week...that's 1200 pages or something. What's wrong with me? No one should ever be completely caught up in a class like that.

This post is an IOU...an I owe myself...who knows. Without the inspiration to write something of importance I have resorted to journal entries lately...is that good or bad? Well, I think it could be worse, because you don't even know what's in my sleepingpill/antidepressant/whatever the fuck else I'm on/addicted to brain right now. Seriously guys, it's weird, weird shit. I've been pulling a Hamlet nearly on the daily but no one else seems to think it's nearly as funny as I do. Am I going insane? Well, yes, I think I am, and perhaps my life isn't nearly as amusing as I think it is, but who cares?

2010-01-27T15:57:00.000-08:00

I haven't written in so long, mostly because the internet Andy and I steal suddenly stopped working. We're pretty torn up about it.

My days are busy lately, especially compared to last semester, when I would spend most of my time streaming television shows and pestering Andy to hang out with me. I'm technically only taking three classes this semester, which is awesome because two are 400-level and one is a graduate class with 9 people. Renaissance Drama, Victorian Poetry, and "Literary Representations of the Racial Other." Not much to say, really. School is school and I'm pretty much over it.

I'm getting three credits this semester interning at CHAX Press, where I package and ship book orders, help with bookmaking, organize bookshelves, collect donations at poetry readings, and do random odd jobs. It's pretty sweet working for a poet and the studio is in the same warehouse as Small Planet Bakery, so it always smells like bread.

I started tutoring this Mexican dude that comes into my work in English. It's pretty adorable. I help him understand the books he's reading and check over the vocabulary worksheets he gets assigned at Pima. It's nice to make some extra money.

I'm currently on no medications. Fuck that. I'm seeing a hippy psychiatrist and she is awesome.

Other than that, lately I just sit in my freezing house and read.

Image Dump

2010-01-19T17:30:00.000-08:00

2010-01-08T15:54:00.001-08:00

I'm writing to mark the first day of my adventures in medicating and treating whatever the fuck has been wrong with me this winter break. I'm on antidepressants and seeing a therapist, yay? TMI? I don't really give a shit. My personal philosophy for a while now has been to be completely, and most of the time painfully, honest with people, so there you go. I never quibbled with teenage angst in high school, so maybe it's catching up to me, you know? That's how I try to rationalize all the bullshit that's been happening to me lately. Truthfully, I feel like I shouldn't be on antidepressants, but whatever. I spent all day at the doctor's yesterday getting blood tests and taking mental health tests, so I guess I'll take her word for it. In case you're wondering what's wrong with me: my heart rate is abnormally high, I have anxiety, and severe insomnia. It started during winter break, completely randomly. At first I didn't think much of it, but after I had gone 4 nights in a row without sleeping, I started freaking out a bit. It took me 3 weeks to finally see a doctor too, so fuck that. Anyway, that's what's going on with me. Feel free to bitch about your own life as much as possible to me, I'd actually appreciate that.

Quote of the Day

2009-12-04T11:58:00.000-08:00

This is my favorite passage from a really great post-modern book, White Noise by Don DeLillo:

"Our pretense is a dedication. Someone must appear to believe. Our lives are no less serious than if we professed real faith, real belief. As belief shrinks from the world, people find it more necessary than ever that someone believe. Wild-eyed men in caves. Nuns in black. Monks who do not speak. We are left to believe. Fools, children. Those who have abandoned belief must still believe in us. They are sure that they are right not to believe but they know belief must not fade completely. Hell is when no one believes. There must always be believers. Fools, idiots, those who hear voices, those who speak in tongues. We are your lunatics. We surrender our lives to make your nonbelief possible. You are sure that you are right but you don't want everyone to think as you do. There is no truth without fools. We are your fools, your madwomen, rising at dawn to pray, lighting candles, asking statues for good health, long life."

Can't Femmes and Vegans Live in Harmony?

2009-11-30T17:33:00.000-08:00

I don't want to get all political on you here, but I just found this video from the Onion that expresses my opinions on PETA quite well. I've been a vegetarian for years and I believe in and support animal rights 100%, but PETA will never earn my respect. I agree with their message, but not their execution. Dehumanizing and sexualizing women to grab attention is never okay. That said, I really hate the reactions to PETA ads that I read on feminist blogs, which are usually along the lines of, "fuck PETA I'm going to enjoy a massive steak now." I'm so tired of meat eaters cloaking their guilt of killing animals and supporting a harmful, inhumane system by glorifying food. It's not cute.

Also, why doesn't my spellcheck recognize the word "vegans?" Really?

I know, I sound like such a bleeding-heart hippy, don't I? I should go back to listening to The Fame Monster.

Beyonce + Gaga

2009-11-17T08:53:00.000-08:00

I was pretty psyched for Video Phone to come out because although I'm outwardly in love with Lady Gaga, Beyonce has always had a pretty big piece of my heart. What can I say? I grew up bumping Destiny's Child (CUZ YOU A BUGABOO, A BUGABOO [I'm effing sorry]!) and deep down I know I'd go gay for her if given the chance.

I thought the combination Gaga and Sasha Fierce would blow my mind, but to echo the opinions of other people, Video Phone left me feeling a little underwhelmed. My main problems with it are the lack of Gaga, some really fug outfits on Beyonce, and Lady Gaga's plastered hookerface makeup, which has evidently become her "natural" look. Gross.

I can forgive and forget, though. I really love the Tarantino feel, especially in the beginning. The choreography is pretty half-assed but some parts are cool...I like the camera-head men. I think what basically saves everything is Beyonce's look at 2:53. Uh...cholla Bettie Page? God yes, dude. I want a fucking wig.

Beyoncé - New Music - More Music Videos

In other news, I've been watching a lot of Tarantino films in my literary analysis class and I need to see Inglourious Basterds again. I've developed a slightly creepy crush on Christoph Waltz. What can I say? I'm obsessed with older men, but not Nazis. Whatever. His under-bite is so endearing.

Oh my god, guys, he is so adorable in real life, too.

Lah, lah, love

2009-11-11T18:26:00.000-08:00

Guys, can we please talk about Bad Romance??

Gah, I'm beyond obsessed. I like the video so much, I think I'm starting to like the song, too, which surprises me.

I told someone I could list over 10 things that are genius about the video, so take note:

Razor blade glasses.

2. Lady Gaga lap dance at 2:41.

3. Sign of the cross dance at 3:18. Brilliant.

4. Head-to-toe McQueen-adillo plus claw-hand.

5. Albino animalss (hairless sphinx, dead bat in the nakee scenes, and her bear robe, unless you want to say it's a polar bear).

6. Tranny look at 4:06.

7. BOOTY at 4:18.

8. I wish I had a screen cap of my second favorite outfit (first is the McQueen-adillo, obviously), the red one. Very Leeloo Dallas Multipass ala The Fifth Element.

9. Um, yes.

10. Overall, I just really dig the many themes of the video. The concept of Russian human trafficking, the multiple religious references, Where the Wild Things Are influence, this outfit's manifestation. There are probably a million more I overlooked.

Video stills are from here.

And then you die.

2009-11-08T19:42:00.000-08:00

What am I doing? What do I ever do?

I tired of writing papers...not the time and effort they require, but the monotony of writing one after another. They don't mean anything. Everyone knows this, but as humanities students we calm our consciouses by discussing why art matters, why thinking about art matters. But every time I do literary analysis the final product is rarely very satisfying because no one gives a shit. No one gets it, and I don't blame anyone for it.

I only feel really good when someone reads and enjoys my poetry, but writing good poetry is so incredibly rare for me. Out of all my work, I'd say I have one really good poem. One. Who the fuck cares if I have on poem that's decent?

I'm not trying to make this into a self-pitying rant. I just wish I was remotely interested in science, or something useful. I should go to law school, probably.

The funny thing is I just wrote a personal statement about why the humanities are important and why I plan to become a teacher. Yay, bullshit.

2009-10-27T22:19:00.000-07:00

Guys, I have the plague. No bueno.

My least favorite part about being sick is having nothing to do. I've watched the entire third season of Mad Men today. I went to one class to turn in a paper and felt like death the entire time. I revised some poetry. I watched Down by Law. I finished my book in which a man dies of typhoid in North Africa and now I'm scared.

I feel like my brains are melting from staring at my computer screen for so long. I have an application to get started on, I have lots of reading, I have five poems to write, I want to exercise, but I effing can't do any of these things because I'm delirious. Sucks, man.

For some reason this has got to be THE BEST week to get sick, though. All my classes but one are cancelled for the rest of the week. How does that happen?

Oh, Internet

2009-10-08T19:46:00.000-07:00

The internet really never fails to impress, does it? I mean, I used spend hours upon hours on StumbleUpon, yet I still had to force myself to stop. Now that it doesn't work on my computer anymore (I can't explain it) I still find the weirdest shit on the internet, and it's awesome. Just now I came across Regretsy and laughed for fifteen minutes straight. It's obviously a collection of all the crappy shit people try to sell on Etsy. I would totally dish out $99,000 for this gem:

Jesus, why did I not receive this for my birthday?

Also, in my search for this year's ~*sexy*~ Halloween costume, I've decided on this:

Sexy Nemo? Uh, I guess so. I mean, it makes absolutely no sense but it's hot, right?

Finally, I'll leave you with a cake that I'm very upset wasn't baked for me:

Birthday Sex All Around

2009-10-07T00:28:00.000-07:00

Wahh, I'm 21 you guys. Can you believe it? I can't.

My bird day was wonderful (because I know you were totally on the edge of your seats in curiosity).

Yeah, I'm a little tipsy. My fingers are quite working right (I originally typed 'dingers'). I would usually pass out right now, but Andy is working on a project and the only place we get internet is in the middle of the bed, so I'd figured I would try to finish The Sound and the Fury (not happening) or waste time doing some other shit, so here I am. It's not my birthday any more, so I guess I don't feel guilty for writing some sort of crap on the internet when I should be out "having fun." Whatever, guys. Fun is a fleeting attempt to fill the void, and yes I'm a zen Buddhist. No, I'm not.

Goodnight.

Thank You, Bust Magazine

2009-10-03T19:25:00.000-07:00

While perusing the newest issue of Bust Magazine, I came across a blurb about Garfunkel and Oates, a female comedy duo from L.A. They were dubbed the female Flight of the Conchords, so I youtubed the shit out of them and let me tell you, I dig. Check it:

3 Miracles of October

2009-10-02T15:52:00.000-07:00

October is my FAVORITE, and not only because it's my birthday month. In Tucson it starts getting perfect outside: bearable during the day and cool breezes at night. It's hot enough to swim until Halloween, when it officially becomes winter-coat weather. I love it, and yesterday the first day of the best month of the year certainly did not betray me. There were little miracles happening all around and I'll share just three with you.

First of all, Andy and I were reading last week's Tucson Weekly in search of somewhere new and exciting to eat in celebration of the end of Midterms. Whenever we feel like splurging (I hate that word) on a meal, we usually stick to Yoshimatsu or El Minuto, but since I had a copy of the Weekly lying around we though we'd try something different. We decided to go with Char's (5039 E. 5th St.), which was voted best Thai restaurant. I haven't been that far east in a while but it was worth it. It's adorably-decorated and family owned, with little Thai babies running around saying hi to you every five minutes. The table we sat at was plastered in pictures of Princess Diana, which was equally awesome and creepy. The food was amazing and well-priced (8-ish dollars for most meals). Whatever I got was fucking amazing and I ate the entire thing even though it was way too much food. I don't even know if I've ever had Thai food before, but I'm coming back to that place ASAP.

The second miracle of the day was simple: I somehow found a bra that doesn't make my boobs look fucking HUMONG. 'Nuff said, dudes. That kind of thing never happens to me and I'm so fucking happy.

Last miracle: PUMPKIN PIE SHEESHA. Oh man. Andy and I went to Moon later in the night to get some more Jasmine sheesha, which has been the only thing we'll smoke for a while now. We were talking to the lady there about other kinds to try and she let us smell Pumpkin Pie, which they had just gotten in. She said people either love it or hate it, and I decided to try it because it seriously smells so good you could eat it. It's pretty awesome. It tastes like pumpkin bread and makes the house smell like baked goods, which I can always appreciate. I can imagine it will be absolutely perfect when it gets a little colder outside, it's a great seasonal scent. LOVE IT.

Well, I hope October continues to be such a badass. I plan to enjoy my last days of underage drinking tonight and tomorrow night, hopefully sipping 40's like the good ol' days. Bittersweet, friends.

For Y(O)ur Viewing Pleasure

2009-10-01T00:22:00.000-07:00

I mean, really. Just stop it.

Nietzsche, Pynchon, and McCarthy

2009-09-22T22:05:00.000-07:00

I have so many things racing through my head right now and I can't even begin articulate most of them. But I will offer you these:

GOD IS DEAD. Read this short story. I've definitely got Nietzsche on the brain lately. I just wrote a paper based on "The Parable of the Madman" and William Blake's "The Tiger." My head hurts but I'm content with it. I love Neitzsche.

"Shall I project a world?" If you don't know what this symbol means, read The Crying of Lot 49 and find out, please. This is the second time I've read it and Pynchon doesn't disappoint, and the book will take you a few days, at most, to finish.

I just finished Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy. He's also the author of No Country for Old Men and The Road, which has been made into a movie and is coming out in October. I can't even begin to describe my thoughts regarding Blood Meridian and I have to write a paper about it due in less than a week. It's extremely violent and bleak, yet at the same time beautifully poetic and philosophical. It's a true piece of art if you can get past the grotesquely violent scenes. I could only compare it to Moby Dick, and that wouldn't even do the book justice (although there is a sentence that lasts for a page or two).

Yes, this is post is entirely literary, and yes, I'm aware I'm a huge nerd.

Some Thoughts

2009-09-21T10:45:00.000-07:00

Poetry is consuming my life and I'm not sure how I feel about it. It seems as though I'm constantly reading, writing, and now listening to poetry. Last week I went to a reading with my dad and he awkwardly asked me, "so...now can we be poetry partners?" I don't know what that means, but yes dad, of course we can. Then we talked about how he is very Whitman-esque in every way while I'm more like Bukowski (minus the prostitutes), and how based on these generalizations we shouldn't be able to get along. But I love my dad more than anything, and maybe that's why I like Walt Whitman so much.

I'm sick right now and can hardly think, so I'll leave you with two poems that have been on my mind lately. We've been reading them in my Literary Analysis class and I have to chose one to write a paper on.

"The Panther" by Rainer Maria Rilke

"A Hardworking Peasant from the Idyllic Countryside" by Linh Dinh

The Rilke translation is different from the one I've been using, but it's close enough. Also, Linh Dinh is reading his poetry at the printing press I intern at in November, if you're interested.

Adventures in Poetry Writing

2009-09-15T17:29:00.001-07:00

As you may know, I'm currently taking a poetry composition class at school. You also may know that I think it's absolute bullshit. I'm aware I tend to be a cynical bitch by nature, but I'm not exaggerating when I say that this class is possibly the worst piece of shit I've ever experienced.

So far, here's what I've learned:

1. Creative Writing is a bullshit major. I didn't want to believe this either, but my incompetent instructor is living proof. I wasn't aware you could graduate with a BFA in poetry and not recognize a Keats reference, but apparently I stand corrected.

2. Reading poetry isn't about analyzing form and content and close reading texts, it's about talking about your feelings, you dumb-ass. Nothing is more objective than going around the room and saying "this poem made me sad" with no explanation why, obviously. My Advanced Literary Analysis class is right before this one, and needless to say, I die a little inside every time we contradict all that I've learned as an English major in simple class period.

3. Writing a poem that's good is a rare phenomenon and when it actually does happen, there is no explanation for it. Okay, I know you can't teach someone how to write poetry, but after reading so much of it over my lifetime, I feel there are at least a few guidelines, tips, etc. that can help the process. But, no. That's makes too much sense apparently, therefore I am condemned to a hell every Monday for 3.5 hours which consists of regurgitating awful as shit poetry because, uh, I don't fucking know how to write poetry. It seems to be a conundrum without a solution.

Needless to say, writing poetry seems to be bane of my existence as of late. So far I've written a ridiculous poem about getting wasted on the Salt River, something sappy about my dad, a bad ekphrastic poem about a watercolor painting, and a little something about the house on 7th St. It doesn't seem like things will get any better, either.

Yesterday in class we received our assignment for next week. After "writing a secret" onto a piece of paper anonymously, we each ended up with someone else's. Here's the secret I have to write a poem about:

"I'm afraid that I am only dating my boyfriend because I like having a boyfriend, but I fear that in a few weeks I will stop liking him because that's how I roll--I'm an independent and I'm really only in it for the chase. The problem is, he is my boss. And I just got this job. I'm too awkwarded out to sleep with him, but again, he's my boss."

Oh shit! I don't know how the fuck to go about making this situation *~poetic~* but I'm pretty entertained nonetheless. We'll see where this juicy little secret takes me.

Evolution of Obsession

2009-09-14T22:59:00.001-07:00

When I first heard "Just Dance," I had no idea who the hell Lady Gaga was. I mostly found the song obnoxious and myself bored, as I was with everything playing on the radio. My initial commonality with Lady Gaga, however, was an affinity for getting wasted and doing shameful things. I guess we were off to a good, perhaps shaky, start.

Next I heard “Poker Face,” which somehow managed to become my second favorite guilty-pleasure track along with some Pitbull song (I know). Then I saw the video for the song and freaked the fuck out over what a babe that girl was in a teal space-age leotard. See also: air-humping on a lounge-chair. Also: poker-game orgy. Also: “‘Cause I’m bluffin’ with my muffin.” Need I say more?

Then I saw this shot:

I mean, really?

At this time my fascination with Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta was in full-throttle. Despite the snapshots I saw of her in Turkish tabloids looking pasty and chubs, I wasn't phased.

When I came back to the states, the show-tune acoustic version of "Poker Face" was permanently stuck in my head and I must have watched her play it on the Ellen Show so many times it was negatively affecting my health.

Then "Love Game" was playing, and after watching the video I was reminded yet again of what an insanely sexy psycho maniac Lady Gaga was. "Disco stick" is just the kind of metaphor I would think up. At this point I believe we must have been on the same dirty wave-length. Nearly soul-mate status. But then she had to turn it up a notch by covering her naked body in Star Trek-esque glitter formations and doing the dirty with male and female cops. At this time I think you could safely say I was deeply enamored with The Gaga.

But tonight I saw her performance at the VMAs.

How the hell was I to react?

I initially regarded the woman's performance with curiosity, which soon became fascination. Then, suddenly, ABSOLUTE FUCKING TERROR.

Okay, yeah, I can handle theatrics, McQueen-esque bird masks, bootylicious black dudes, back-up dancers in wheelchairs...but wait...

BLOOD? No words, friends. I felt legitimately horrified by the image of the crazy bitch dangling hangman-esque like a bleeding corpse of insanity. Lady Gaga has managed to etch her creepy face into my brain with a cocaine-covered scalpel. I fear she will at any moment parade into my bedroom in an excrement-drenched high-cut leotard and force me to join her macabre circus cult.

BUT WAIT, she already has. Yes, I'm officially OB-FUCKING-SESSED with the lady and there is no return for me, friends. I love her and I am willing to follow her to the edges of this planet. I want to become blood-sisters with her and wear leotards and Lennon-glasses and be utterly terrifying and obnoxious.

Sometimes I wonder what Lady Gaga is doing at this exact moment, do you? Right now I imagine she's tweaking and having an intimate conversation with Jesus himself, and I wish I was too.