'we are all in the gutter. but some of us are looking at stars.'

the kind of beatles-addicted, coffee-loving, sharp-tongued, glasses-wearing, freckle-faced girl you expect to find at a nerd pride rally, if they existed, wearing a shirt she made herself and black-and-white sneakers with the soles peeling off, who talks in a stream of quotes from dead people no one has ever heard of, makes absurd references to the famous books no one actually reads, walks around with her nose buried in a book (she says it's because she fell in love with words but really she just wants to hide her acne) and a pen that never gets used sticking out of her jean pocket and doesn't understand poetry but pretends, sticking similes and linebreaks in her words like contagious diseases--she wants to be la joconde girl but gets stuck with a too-wide smile and wire frames covering eyes that aren't even close to da vinci, red hair that occasionally decides to behave and plastic darfur wristbands. oh well.

7.22.09

there's two weeks till school last time i checked, the weather stinks and i have freckles on my knees, but i'm alive and life's good. motto of the moment: carpe diem.

'"people aren't wicked or noble. they're like chef's salads, with good things and bad things chopped up and mixed together in a vinaigrette of confusion and conflict."' -a virtual cookie for anyone who can tell me who said that.

8.25.09

forget carpe diem. momento mori is more appropriate. this is all.

9.6.09

if anyone's reading this (which no one is): the aliens are coming for your souls in three months. make the most of the time you still have.

and some quotes, because they are love:
"big things are often just little things that are noticed." -markus zusak, i am the messenger.
"living is easy with eyes closed/ misunderstanding all you see." -the beatles, strawberry fields forever.
"isn't it a lovely day to be caught in the rain?" -fred astaire, top hat.

10.2.09

my lab partner's a contortionist, during free period two guys stuffed themselves into a locker for fun, fatin's friend sees auras, a kid called bullfrog wore a jester's hat on the subway when he was going home today, talya wants yellow jeans (don't ask. please.), some dude at my school has a blog about psychology, there's a car salesman masquerading as a student in twelfth grade, a girl who commutes with me considers the hospital her second home, & there's a kid in the 7th grade who wrote a symphony.

...i'm feeling depressingly normal.

10.28.09

i think i should start a blog. but i'm technologically impaired and procrastinate like hell, and i can never keep a journal because i forget to update it, so instead i will rant on this thing every other day (when i remember) and hope i don't get kicked off the site. not that i think i would, but there is always a chance.

speaking of writing, if you have somehow stumbled on here and don't love poetry with all of your heart, check this out:

the love song of j. alfred prufrock by t.s. eliot

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question. . .
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions
And for a hundred visions and revisions
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!"
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!"
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all;
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? . . .

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
. . . . .

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep . . . tired . . . or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet–and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say, "That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all."

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
"That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all."
. . . . .

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old . . . I grow old . . .
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

xoxo

and also this, just because it is effing hilarious.

xoxo

Things my Mother Taught Me

1. My mother taught me TO APPRECIATE A JOB WELL DONE.
"If you're going to kill each other, do it outside. I just finished
cleaning."

2. My mother taught me RELIGION.
"You better pray that will come out of the carpet."

3 . My mother taught me about TIME TRAVEL.
"If you don't straighten up, I'm going to knock you into the middle of
next
week!"

4. My mother taught me LOGIC.
"Because I said so, that's why."

5. My mother taught me MORE LOGIC.
"If you fall out of that swing and break your neck, you're not going to the
store with me."

6. My mother taught me FORESIGHT.
"Make sure you wear clean underwear, in case you're in an accident."

7. My mother taught t me IRONY.
"Keep crying, and I'll give you something to cry about."

8. My mother taught me about the science of OSMOSIS.
"Shut your mouth and eat your supper."

9. My mother taught me about CONTORTIONISM.
"Will you look at that dirt on the back of your nec k!"

10. My mother taught me about STAMINA.
"You'll sit there until all that spinach is gone."

11. My mother taught me about WEATHER.
"This room of yours looks as if a tornado went through it."

12. My mother taught me about HYPOCRISY.
"If I told you once, I've told you a million times. Don't exaggerate!"

13. My mother taught me the CIRCLE OF LIFE.
"I brought you into this world, and I can take you out."

14. My mother taught me about BEHAVIOR MODIFICATION.
"Stop acting like your father!"

15. My mother taught me about ENVY.
"There are millions of less fortunate children in this world who don't
have wonderful parents like you do."

16. My mother taught me about ANTICIPATION .
"Just wait until we get home."

17. My mother taught me about RECEIVING.
"You are going to get it when you get home!"

18. My mother taught me MEDICAL SCIENCE.
"If you don't stop crossing your eyes, they are going to freeze that
way."

19. My mother taught me ESP.
"Put your sweater on; don't you think I know when you are cold?"

20. My mother taught me HUMOR.
"When that lawn mower cuts off your toes, don 't come running to me."

21. My mother taught me MATURITY.
"If you don't eat your vegetables, you'll never grow up."

22. My mother taught me GENETICS.
"You're just like your father."

23. My mother taught me about my ROOTS.
"Shut that door behind you. Do you think you were born in a barn?"

24. My mother taught me WISDOM.
"When you get to be my age, you'll understand."

25. And my favorite: My mother taught me about JUSTICE.
"One day you'll have kids, and I hope they turn out just like you!"

xoxo

The Story of Jack Schitt

For some time many of us have wondered just who is Jack Schitt? We find ourselves at a loss when someone says, 'You don't know Jack Schitt!' Well, thanks to my genealogy efforts, you can now respond in an intellectual way.

Jack Schitt is the only son of Awe Schitt. Awe Schitt, the fertilizer magnate, married O. Schitt, the owner of Needeep N. Schitt, Inc. They had one son, Jack.

In turn, Jack Schitt married Noe Schitt. The deeply religious couple produced six children: Holie Schitt, Giva Schitt, Fulla Schitt, Bull Schitt, and the twins Deep Schitt and Dip Schitt.

Against her parents' objections, Deep Schitt married Dumb Schitt, a high school dropout. After being married 15 years, Jack and Noe Schitt divorced.

Noe Schitt later married Ted Sherlock, and because her kids were living with them, she wanted to keep her previous name. She was then known as Noe Schitt Sherlock.

Meanwhile, Dip Schitt married Loda Schitt, and they produced a son with a rather nervous disposition named Chicken Schitt. Two of the other six children, Fulla Schitt and Giva Schitt, were inseparable throughout childhood and subsequently married the Happens brothers in a dual ceremony.

The wedding announcement in the newspaper announced the Schitt-Happens nuptials. The Schitt-Happens children were Dawg, Byrd, and Horse.

Bull Schitt, the prodigal son, left home to tour the world. He recently returned from Italy with his new Italian bride, Pisa Schitt.

Now when someone says, 'You don't know Jack Schitt,' you can correct them.

Sincerely, Crock O. Schitt

xoxo

15 Things to do When You're at Walmart!!

1. Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5-minute intervals.

2. Make a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the rest rooms.

3. Walk up to an employee and tell him/her in an official tone, "Code 3 in housewares"... and see what happens.

4. Go the Service Desk and ask to put a bag of M&M's on lay away.

5. Move a 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted area.

6. Set up a tent in the camping department and tell other shoppers you'll invite them in if they'll bring pillows from the bedding department.

7. When a clerk asks if they can help you, begin to cry and ask, "Why can't you people just leave me alone?"

8. Look right into the security camera & use it as a mirror, and pick your nose.

9. While handling guns in the hunting department, ask the clerk if he knows where the anti - depressants are.

10. Dart around the store suspiciously, humming the "Mission Impossible" theme loudly.

11. In the auto department, practice your "Madonna look"

12. Hide in a clothing rack and when people browse through, say "PICK ME!" "PICK ME!"

13. When an announcement comes over the loud speaker, assume the fetal position and scream: "NO! NO! It's those voices again!!"

14. Go into a fitting room and shut the door and wait a while and then yell, very loudly, "There is no toilet paper in here!

15.Grab a lot of bouncy balls and throw them down the aisle, shouting "Go, Pikachu, Go!"

10.30.09

i have been experimenting with rhyming poetry again.

...it is not pretty.

11.2.09

quotes of the moment:

"my mom is a writer for the times, so it follows that i was raised not to believe anything that journalists say." -me
"my older one is fifteen. she...well, she calls when she needs me to pick her up." -my dad, summing up his relationship with one of his kids. you can decide for yourself if it was me.
"oil prices have fallen lately. we include this news for the benefit of gas stations, who otherwise wouldn't learn of it for six months." -bill tameus
"in the end, everything will be okay. if it's not okay, it's not the end." -anonymous (?)
"CYNICISM is the penname of REALITY, & GREATNESS is just a EUPHEMISM for insanity." -me.

11.14.09.

spell-check is on crack. and I WANT REVIEWS, DAMNIT!

...um.

we named our gps. she is gloria parker solomon, & 85 of the time she is plastered. i think i will write a poem for her.

11.15.09

i have been updating this way too regularly for me to have anything remotely close to a life. i really should pick one up at costco. i hear you can get them really cheap there, and they come in bulk, so i could lend one to my sister, who needs it way more than i do, trust me.

evil things: math. and high heels. and doublespacing. and hitler. and physics. and law enforcement. and 99 cent stores that say 'and plus' in really small letters so that you don't realize that IT ISN'T REALLY A 99 CENT STORE. and tomatoes. and wikipedia. and facebook.

beautiful things: sunrises. and autumn leaves. and swiss miss. and snoopy. and sydney carton. and edmond dantes. and confectioner's sugar. and the subway. and manhattan. and pineapple. and sweaters. and the color turquoise. and seeing the moon during the day. and catching bubbles before they pop. and wishes on eyelashes. and laughing so hard you cry. and words. and quotes.