27 April 2008

well I think I'll pat myself on the back a bit and maybe even burst my buttons

This one is entitled: "HAHA! In yo' face!"

some of us are a bit slower
but the slow of us would like to say
“happily, I am finally mad at you”
and then fuddle about some more on our way

this photo makes me laugh a lot.

Renee Zellweger
This photo goes better with the poem, however, it makes the title a little ironic.

24 April 2008

Love : My Little Red Book

This song could make me smile no matter how decrepit I feel.

23 April 2008

the continuation of channel surfing: harmony in three parts. harmonium ummm

I've got quite a few things that I need to be doing right now. Like get dressed, do things I've put off for a very long time, study, figure out how to rightside up my life. But it seems that I'm still sitting here at my keypad listening to music and dreaming.

"Dream a little dream of me*"

My brain and my gumption have taken a sabbatical this semester. It was horrible, they just picked up and left leaving gaping holes in my life. It seems they'd been having an affair. (Was I unfair?**) But I'm putting together the pieces and trying to get into the habit of writing To Do lists. Who needs brains and gumption anyway?

The Mamas and the Papas and I don't weep at night over my brain and gumption.

*Dream a Little Dream of Me by the Mamas and the Papas
**I call your name, Mamas and the Papas

21 April 2008

Post Prequel: you're still at that ice cream parlour aren't you?

Ben Benn, Girl Reading 1937

Well everyone, I cooked myself a tasty little dinner and as I ate it I read brief synopsis-es of the health benefits of everything I was eating. Apparently I am a genius because garlic, soy beens, and walnuts are AMAZING for you. Osm (use your phonics! that's sweetened condensed for "awesome").
Being single has this odd effect of making me a more intelligent person. Did you know that Brazil nuts are rich in selenium which is a mood enhancer? One Brazil nut is supposed to contain enough selenium to keep your mood enhanced all day long.
I even read about barley even though I have a feeling that Pero is lacking in some barley nutrients.

It's good to know that I am making such great nutrition choices so that I can live a long and healthy life being a patron of the arts (it's my new life plan). Feel free to make me aunt, honorary aunt, or godmother of your children because garlic should reduce my risk of cancer and my risk of heart attack and walnuts should reduce my cholesterol so I'll be able to run after them for you.
Because no one is taking up all of my time I get to go to the library and read a lot. I have learned there is a journal in the periodicals of my uni library which chronicles international terrorism alerts. From this I learned that in January 2001 Sadam Hussein attended his son's wedding.

Someday, guys, I'll be fit for a game show. Osm. I know you're all jealous.

16 April 2008

Episode three: if I saw you in an icecream parlour: notes on an audience chamber

subtext: you might notice that ever since I saw the movie Help I've been in love with Ringo.

I never thought I'd be one of those people who eats cheese pizza. I always thought, gee if you're going to eat pizza you might as well at least put pepperoni on it. But now the idea of pepperoni on a pizza seems unnatural. Once you stop eating meat the texture and consistency starts to seem very strange especially if you continue cooking and working with raw meat. Even fish lacks that...chewiness(?) that meat has.

But really, what type of person eats just cheese on a pizza?



and here's a last link for you. Another Garfield minus Garfield I feel expresses a part of me.

15 April 2008

episode two: you have paint on your fingers AGAIN?

subtext: interview questions

background story: I just watched My Kid Could Paint That

Where does cynicism arise but from the pedestal?

Or maybe when the line is withdrawn between childhood and adulthood or maybe when the line is drawn.
When you said draw the curtains what was happening there?
Voyeurism, a natural part of growing up? Was it Harold and his purple crayon making a smooth transition from imagination and blissful childhood to adolescence to adulthood?

The mother in My Kid Could Paint That says, "When you measure something you change it."

Have you ever noticed there is always a song to fit whatever mood you're in? If there's a song for it, there must be other people in the same mood, eh? So then that sets me thinking, Ringo Starr wrote that song "Octopus's Garden*." That's an interesting mood to ponder. It's probably the mood I was in when I took my physical science test aujourd'hui [today]. I had to write an essay about the pro's and con's of dams. "Con: Nile river doesn't flood the valley therefore it's not depositing new sediments causing a decrease in arable land." I couldn't resist adding "I know, if only it weren't for Cairo, right?"

* wikipedia link, lyrics for Octopus's Garden

14 April 2008

OH NO SHE'S GONE COLLECTIONS - episode one: Luretta get back

subtext: No one has been blond in the midwest for years.

A weird thing happened this evening. I checked out this book just because I wanted to take pictures of it.

A romance of the jerseys?

13 April 2008

I wandered some and sat under that pine tree with the graffiti monsters


My nightstand is covered in ash from the incense I bought this week.

The people were out 'n about walking today. It's like we're all drip-droplets emerging from an inside-outed container heading out into the world in coalesced pieces. A re-emergence. And maybe as drip-droplets we would be dreams incarnate and evaporate into the spring air.
How about this, you pull up a front porch, we'll munch o
n pita chips and watch the grass grow. You know what I like even better than front porches? Back stoops. Back stoops of crumbling cement. And backyards are even better than back stoops (do they call them stoops here?). Let's lay on our backs and look at the lavender six o'clock sky and listen to the doves coo (or cry? ...maybe next spring).
We could live in that clapboard house that's on the corner.
We'd listen to records any chance we got and walk around barefoot.

It's like my brain is full of brightly colored glass beads sometimes.

I like brightly colored tiles. You can keep that one in mind for future reference for something. or other.

the end.

12 April 2008

and still no answer, but happy with a variable

I have been seduced.
By a book.
About an English couple living in France for a year.
"A year in Provence" by Peter Mayle.
It is now time to confess to you that I have been trying terribly hard for months, since I first heard of this opportunity to do this internship, not to dream about life in France. I'm trying not to dream until I find out oui or non.
But I do.
I imagine I live in a little appartement with windows that look out on small winding streets packed with european cars. I imagine taking a scarf--une écharpe-- from my little armoir, wrapping it around my neck to complete a classic ensemble and heading down to my corner boulangerie for a baguette. Sometimes I indulge in my naivety and let myself believe that everything in France will be small, expensive and amazing. I could maybe live in a place that is filled with little Sanpellegrino bottles (yes, I know they're Italian). Maybe I'll have to cook off a hot plate and take public transportation to work. Maybe the winter will freeze me to the marrow like no winter has since I've moved away from home and the thought of freezing me arse off in France sounds appealing. I imagine the appartements I've seen from French New Wave cinema and I see myself taping posters from obscure artists to my walls. Maybe I'll even confess I dream of overly charming French men who will try to win my heart and I amuse myself by thinking of good and cheesy "sweet nothings" in French. Oh dear, one by one I'm letting all of my secrets out.

Do you ever wonder what exactly has been someone's life experience? How has everything they lived through, the music their parents listened to, the people they met and saw--how has it all made them who they are?...it's an inestimable equation to get from birth to present to death.

10 April 2008

ally-ho electrons!

A better bitter biter bit o' writing.

DO You ever feel like the world is shrinking?

I rode my bike over to a friend's house ce soir [tonight] and I ended up in Siberia. We were trying to figure out the meaning of some hypothetical French phrases when we got caught up staring out the window at the flurries highlighted by the street lamp.
What are flurries doing out this eve
ning, eh? Eh bien, what are you doing out this evening? Why haven't we all retired to that sweet lazy dock in the middle of nowhere letting our fingertips drift in and out of cool lake water as our minds rest contentedly in sun?


09 April 2008

the compartmentalization of philosophy

I just watched the last half of There's a Shrimp on the Barbie and I would like to say:

there is a ramification of terrorism that we have terribly neglected.

What happens when you have to run through an airport to talk the the one you love from flying out of your life forever?

You have to buy a ticket and because of all of the security your chances of catching them before the plane takes off are severely limited. Of course, you could call airport security and suggest that your loved one is a terrorist so he will be detained long enough until you can declare your undying love. However, if Hollywood can be trusted (Redacted) you would still never see the person you love again. And the government would never acknowledge their existence. And lets not even imagine what terrible fate your loved one would suffer. And your brain would probably be erased à la Eternal Sunshine of a
Spotless Mind.
There is the spectacular scene in Love Actually where Sam runs through the airport but what is he, eleven? I think it's difficult for anyone over 4'8" to slip past security like that.
In other words, all romantic relationships are doomed. In seeking after our loved ones we may raise that ambiguous terror-o-meter to level orange.

Kids watch too many movies these days...

I suppose I have no need to worry about all of this though. Aujourd'hui à la grille I was washing my hands and the Onion Cutter came and gave me a big hug. We're best friends now. Si douce {so sweet}.

Samuel Beckett said he wrote in French (his native language was English) because it was easier for him to write without style.
It is also nice to write in a new language because it still has a mystery and an innocence.

08 April 2008

red red vines

We're very clever à la grille.
My Grandma coworker made a sign to hang by the dish-washing area:


Piling of
Plates and

Alliteration in a useful mode.

03 April 2008

the beatles - let it be

02 April 2008

there are a few things that just end up in my bag sometimes

I know I always come back to the same ideas but The Smiths really do reach down to my very heart and hidden soul oh so very often. In my dream home I would have a small room painted black that was falling out of the attic and half outside. It would be my listening room. And there I would lay, with my feet above my head as if I were in the dentist's chair, and I would listen to dear Morrissey's voice filling up my heart with the little bits of "I've seen it happening in other people's lives and now it's happening in mine" and "girlfriend in a coma, I know."
Do you know, oh it won't be a shock, I think my dream house is fairly clapboard and I have been wearing something inside out every day for the last week.

And I'm out of Grapenuts.
And I'm having switchplated dreams again and I'm spelling things all British again: behaviour.

01 April 2008

collectionism-how is it that Neil Diamond knows I'll be a woman soon?

Sometimes I wish I could take Spring and Fall to lay them side by side so I could finally know if there really is something different in the air come spring.

Oh here it comes again...poem #364
a Tuesday, Thursday, and a Friday intertwined.
All intertwined and interlaced and I've been completely
completely remiss

Just to drop off as a sigh and I'll stop talking
and every day you'll set your spoon down on the little mismatched plate
that you set underneath your tea cup
and I'll hear the spoon click against the tea cup
and the tea cup rattle against the mismatched plate
and I'll think it's been a day

And I'm happy it's been a day
I would be happy it's been a day where we could be quiet
where we could be melancholy
where we could not think

and I'd be completely
completely remiss
not to feel a terrible relief.