The Dangerous Twist

growing up

2011-06-05T23:01:00.000-07:00

there are friendships and relationships that leave you heady with the love of life. a dinner and a movie with these kinds of people and you're driving home with the windows down, the smoky taste of tobacco and the night air, everything seen through some perfect gaussian filter that blurs the streetlights to dancing orbs peeling away from your speeding car. the sudden mist of evening showers, wet asphalt and perfume in the air and you feel so suddenly wonderfully alive. beautiful and free. like you could go on forever, like a contact high on a mountaintop of ecstasy and powdered sugar, barreling into the night.

and you know it takes a line of text in the cold light of your laptop from the other kind of friend that leaves all those fluttering feelings flailing like burnt bugs in a fly zapper. oh those kinds of friends. fair weather fairies fluttering flickering in furtive whispers, spring fevers, summer flings, autumn windfalls, fuckers all. fuck them all.

i've been struck with the broad side of my intuition, the great solid mass of my future, my adulticity. is this what it's like to wake up? strange it's so late in the night. and for some reason i imagined 20/20 vision, but what a cliché, right? what i mean is, what a waste of time. when i could be dancing in the evening rain. when i could be making breakfast plans with people who have good hearts, not empty husks. i know, i know, i know you can't hold time but i don't have time to spare for these vapors, for these vague manshapes and their breathy promises. these i'lltextyous and letsdolunch and loveyoulots, yeah, that's what i told your mom this morning, bitch.

i know i know i know you can't break a heart i mean it's an organ, it's very slippery and gamey probably, but i know mine knows pain in the most acute fashion, i'm not being emo i'm expressing a litany of emotions you could group together and if they were letters in an alphabet they'd spell something you'd recognize as heartbreak. there's a sound like the keening whine of cracking glass and you can't breathe and fuck but it hurts, and why are there tears. why am i crying over what appears to be dust in the glass. letters in the alphabet.

and i know, you know, i know there are times when you make mistakes and the people you think you love turn into statues of unknowable obsidian on the far side of olympus mons, what i mean is you don't know them anymore,

and maybe they've had these thoughts and i'm the bitch i'm the whore i'm the horrible bore that isn't worth their time. i'm the one with the loveyoulots and letsbefriends and whatever the fuck, i'm so sorry. god, god i'm so sorry. i never want to be that person ever again.

this is what waking up is. i'm so sorry, or fuck you. whatever you deserve. i'm done and i'm gone.

secret place

2011-02-02T22:58:00.001-08:00

wish i could dig a hole to hide all my secrets in, shovel the dirt back on top and seal it off with a sigh.

so many friends and yet so dangerously alone, all the time. the impermanence of it all, the transience of socializing and befriending people, dumping all your heart into it and then watching them go away. i'm so done. i'm going to be alone from now on. it is something i will be okay with.

Okay.

2010-05-10T11:36:00.000-07:00

Breathe breathe breathe.

I'm going to have to go through these posts and purge them one day or something. They're all a little too telling, unfortunately. Especially for what I have planned in the near future.

But for now, it's still the dumping grounds for this petite tete.

So I'm absolutely dead tired. Had another breakdown on Wednesday, cried all day. Tried having fun this weekend but everytime I sat in front of the computer again I just started crying and, as usual, I slept.

These things used to be so easy. I used to really write this stuff, all intently. I had a floodgate installed in there to keep the ideas from spilling out and now it's all rusted shut.

I used to like writing essays. And now. Now it seems like I don't like doing much of anything.

Procrastinationz

2010-05-03T10:48:00.000-07:00

In which my social life is amazing and in turns amazingly depressing. And in which my school life suffers something horrible because I can't bring myself to give a shit.

I should be doing my french stuff. And my chinese stuff. And writing a ten-page paper. But there's so many millions of miles of things all up in my brain just jostling. it's not even noon and I've smoked maybe four cigarettes. Not really helping my cough. My liver hurts.

I'm wearing a sparkly cardigan, though, from the 90's, and it's so lovely it makes everything better. One of those outfits I tend to come up with the night before, and I get so excited about them I can't really sleep.

I really enjoy my mornings in French class. I show up a half hour late, but I get to smoke outside with the literature majors who are just the loveliest boys. I love Omar; he's so fucked up on the inside, and every time I see him there's some new lovely surprise about his super-fucked life.

I'd be with him in a heartbeat, but man if he isn't a bag of drowned kittens I'd rather not look into.

But our misery matches, and every explanation is coupled with an "I get it" or "I feel that way too." Man, if only he didn't look like a Lebanese Ellen Degeneres.

Anyway, been meeting up with the loveliest people all week for such good times. Drinking pretty much daily; trying to build up my tolerance for when I am abroad as I'd like not to end up in the hospital for trying to keep up with Dutch giantesses. Again. Laughing and joking and making so many grand plans; it's so good to be young. Supposed to go to Boiling Crab on Thursday, par exemple, or to Fullerton for happy hour soon. With Rogelio, who is such a laugh, and Memo and Serge. Oh my goodness what a night.

Unless it gets awkward and Memo starts crying because I say something horrible and insensitive. Again. I would. :(

But anyway, in the face of all that great good socializing, my coursework (month's work of chinese and french, 10 page paper on border conflicts due Wednesday) looks like walking into an Iron Maiden. With extra long spikes. Painted in venom.

2010-04-16T11:47:00.000-07:00

God But I'm consumed with so much heartrending emotion.

I don't understand why I can't feel normally about things, you know? Like there's always been and there always shall be so much going on inside my head, and I'm near to bursting. I want to scream out.

I don't know why I let my life get controlled by all these feelings. It's driving me mad, and I want to be above it all, but I'm not. I'm just not. :(

Ugh.

2010-04-13T11:29:00.000-07:00

The cold and empty feeling comes right after. You drive home in a daze. I'm so confused still and yet so clear. I know all it's going to ever come to is disaster, and still I'm the tugboat in the wake of some larger ship, some larger shit. fuck me. Fuck me but he's so lovely.

in other news the charity fundraiser i helped organize was horribly successful, and for the first time in a long time i feel satisfied and accomplished about school and about my professional future. I'm learning how to deal with people's ridiculous ish in a professional setting, and man does it take all types of annoying and ridiculous shit to make an event huh.

Like old times.

2010-04-12T18:13:00.000-07:00

Shake up the old shyness like old times. Break out the cold sweats, pour out all the tremors and the palpitations like they used to come when he used to come around.

When he comes around it hits me square in the gut and i'm an idiot again. all over again. like old times.

burn it down

2010-02-28T10:13:00.000-08:00

the sinking feeling again. i really need to start being one of those good buddhists. i still don't deserve to wear it proudly.

when me and catherine went to the red room, and he grabbed my ass i think it was like a wake up call, in a weird way.

I've been falling down those same stairs of infatuation, banging my head on the same steps, and still I feel like I'm not learning. Cookie started naming all the ways I change when I'm around him, and Friday affirmed it. I'm starting to lose myself again.

I'm not accomplishing enough. I'm not making these hats fast enough. I keep looking up at the sky, like I think it's going to rain, like some miracle will rise out from my hamper like Jesus resurrected.

I've got to work for this paycheck, god. damn it.

i'm not happy. i'm lost and confused. i want to stay in bed all day and dream, but all my dreams rush me to waking in the most horrible way. ah, night terrors. who needs an alarm clock?

I had to frog a whole hat the other day and start over. The thought still leaves me all hollow inside. It took me a week to get to where I was. Sigh.

Roll those sleeves up, I guess. Who wants to dwell? Who wants to dwell.

I really need to be single.

2010-01-16T20:07:00.001-08:00

I've been knitting the wrong way this whole time.

ahmg. It's like finding out I've been adding instead of subtracting. Or turning right when I thought I was turning left. In other words, my universe has just shattered.

I've been knitting through the back loops of everything this whole time. I am thoroughly ashamed. Ashamed! :(

2010-01-07T13:17:00.000-08:00

Hm. I was halfway through the hat already. Halfway! Probably the fasted I've knitted anything, really. Probably on account of the fact that I was so excited about making cables :P

But I didn't like how it turned out. It's a bit too slouchy already, which is perfect for me, but for stylish Italian Ahmad?? Who buys his stylish glasses expressly from stylish Lebanon? This must needs be tailored. So I frogged the bitch. Fucking Vanna's Choice. I was talking to Patty how after a while you get pickier and pickier with yarn. Maybe not exclusively cashmere or anything, but that super saver shit isn't going to cut it anymore. Vanna's Choice is joining the list.

After much hemming and hawing I signed up on Ravelry, and have been trawling its fibrous depths like a spiny lobster, absorbing patterns into my gooey crustacean innards.

Sometimes I want to skip all this youthful ambition crap and just retire to a mountainside cottage in Switzerland with a quiet, industrious Swiss husband and just knit all day with my seven cats and lumbering Newfoundland dog.

Though most days I just dream about being Elizabeth Zimmermann.

It's like my ultimate dream to make an adult surprise jacket with long sleeves gathered at the wrists like the picture in The Opinionated Knitter.

Thick cream or mottled heather grey. Alpaca or cashmere or both. Or... sigh.

And one of those fair isle sweaters! Mmph! I've never really balked at any kind of knitting--except maybe Estonian lace :O--but the kind of intricate colour changes of fair isle kind of maybe scare me a little bit.

I've been talking about knitting an awful lot since school has ended only because i've been trying to find things to talk about. :P Things will begin to happen on Friday. I want to make an effort to write things down coherently, since it's not a habit of mine to be especially coherent.

I think my mind has suffered for laying fallow so long, so that hard work feels like hard work instead of the kind of mental adventure it once was when I was younger.

I remember watching Serge at work, cleaning his brushes and putting away the sponges. It was as if every movement was calculated and considered. Everything was put back into its right place. He folded the paper towels we use to wipe down our paintbrushes into careful fourths and methodically wiped down the counters. And yet it wasn't a painstaking process. Every motion was determined and quick, executed with surety and peace of mind. I like being around Serge because he knows himself and he knows what he's doing. Maybe because he's older, he's stopped wasting time.

Or maybe it's all the weed and the LSD. Maybe he burned out all the useless shit in his brain, leaving nothing but peace and efficiency, like watching a starving tortoise eating mash.

Those things can go.

Anyway, that's the kind of thing I want to go for this year.

Off to the yarn shop :P

cable needle.

2010-01-06T19:29:00.000-08:00

UGH I just got a cable needle. I've been going through all these cable beanie patterns and it's like being dipped in chocolate and gold flakes. MMMMM i'm in heaven.

That might actually be pretty unpleasant, but I'm crazy excited.

Ahmad just asked me to make him a beanie for his DC trip. While initially I was going to say no, I realized that Saturday would be the last time I'd probably ever see his sexy Lebanese face again, so I told him yess.

I'm thinkin' about just making him a plain old knit beanie. I do have all day tomorrow, though, and a shiny new cable needle. Hmmm. :( o the possibilities.

i'm beginning to feel my backfat.

2010-01-02T00:51:00.000-08:00

BACKFAT. Like hairless moles furrowing together down my spine. MMMMM.

I blame the holiday food. I ate lobster twice yesterday, along with heapfuls of greasy Cantonese food. The day before that I had bacon, and also Korean bbq from Freshia.

Oh man when that stuff explodes into your mouth with grease and fat mamdfnadkfja; MMMM some more.

Hopefully I'll be making more healthful use of mum's electric grill pan thing. We tried grilling green beans and though it took a while for them to caramelize they were so sweet and lovely after they did. Maybe I ought to blanch them first. Mmm.

Oh but then my aunt made this chocolate cake with flan on top and caramel all dripping down its sides.

i feel uncomfortably pillowed in my own fat. Ugh gross. and yet so deliciously cushioned.

i've actually always wanted to try barding a chicken. that involves wrapping the chicken breast in bacon before roasting it, since the breast is always in desperate need of some kind of juicy greasy fatness.

of course i saw julie and julia today, and there was so much butter oh my goodness. butter, oh thou churned milk solids, thou sweet and creamy delectation. they were slathering the hens with herbed beurre. mmmmm.

i got a 4.0 this semester, which is surprising, seeing as I struggled so hard and procrastinated so much. That I got a better grade in International Social Conflicts and Valentina didn't has got to be proof of devilry. I wrote our biggest research paper the night of, three hours before, on hasty research, and I aced the thing. :(

I'm cowed by how hard she works, and how frustrated she gets when she doesn't get the grade she deserved, simply because English is like a second language to her.

To me writing well is second nature, and I feel I coast on it, depend on my prose when I don't really have the kind of insight and understanding she has on any given subject. Just because she doesn't have the words to say it, she gets the worse grade. bleh.

I finished two hats today! It took me like three hours to finish Valentina's hat. I really like these seashell crochet beret patterns I came up with. I kept ripping up the one I made for Casey because I couldn't get the shaping right, but now it seems like they shape themselves. I hardly had to decrease the stitches at all near the end.

I really want to try knitting a cabled hat. There was this cloche hat that had one thick cable braid down the side and looked so lovely and easy, I'd like to try it. Only the pattern's in a magazine in a bookstore far far away from here. And it cost like 20 bucks. For one pattern out of a dozen lousy dowdy tams and pom pom fucking beanies. Bleh.

fat assness

2009-12-21T21:39:00.000-08:00

have got my rodarte dresses on hold at the local target and am happy.

got some leggings from aa in the mail, but i will have to set them aside? they fit fine once they go on, but it's the going on. my hips are so wide relative to my waist it's hard to find any pants that fit. so i just wear black leggings everyday until they fall apart :(.

everytime i think i feel skinnier i just go to aa and i get 'moted again.

hmm hmm. i'm going to go finish this hat some more. and plaaay dragon aaaggeee.

The Predicament

2009-12-17T09:15:00.001-08:00

So I'm terribly ashamed of being a procrastinator.

Like I intended to work on my paper all Tuesday. Then Tuesday became Wednesday and I was all, "I'm going knock this shit DOWN!11" but then I didn't and passed out at midnight with a half-page outline. Then I woke up at 6am and frantically worked on it, didn't finish, showed up 40 minutes late to my 8am final, and I'm sitting in the library now. Blogging.

It's a 3 page paper about Stiglitz. Stiglitz! That man like the Gabriel of Globalization, whose hymns and proclamations I've sewn into my little earth-shaped heart. But alas it was an assignment, and I don't do those.

The thing is I know I'm good at writing papers, and I'm good at bullshitting bullshit Anthro finals, so it's just more incentive for me to procrastinate. So, cushioned by this arrogance, I breeze up to the last few hours and then stress the fuck out. I don't like this. Gaahhh. I need to stop.

I need to stop blogging, holy shit.

But my mum just gave me this $75 gift card for Target and with the new Rodarte collection coming out next week omg. I know nowhere else to shout these exaltations, except here, this little hole in a tree. I shall cover it up with mud now, and fly free. Am I rhyming? hm.

also today I am 21. it is not so much a feeling of liberation and freedom so much as it is a feeling that I am growing older, and I have all these plans, and I won't be done with them, won't be really truly an adult, until I'm like... 27. Or 28. i want to join the Peace Corps, and I want to do a masters too. And then what? :( I shall stop making plans, and just get drunked up like other 21 year olds.

ecrasez le.

2009-11-18T15:42:00.000-08:00

moi je ne suis pas finit avec mes devoirs, mes essaies, mais je suis finit, absolument, avec cette vie des miserables, avec cette rue d'ennuie et nul. baise it baise it baise it.

I want to crush these words and sift each phoneme through my fingers like a falling rain of powder, straight into being. I am eight kinds of done with this shit. 13 pages before tomorrow night. Not including the annotated biblio.

I'm not cut out for this. When I'm done with this degree I'm getting out of here. I'm learning my languages as best as I can and I'm quitting. I'll join the Peace Corps, I'll fly out of this world. I'll peel off my skin and emerge some new and finally satisfied thing. Something beautiful for once.

Relatively Speaking.

2009-11-10T09:41:00.000-08:00

I know I'm always talking about how my brain is dying, deteriorating, melting into the void, etc.

I'm sitting near two college students, one of whom just asked the other, "Hey, what's fornication mean?"

Face--->palm.

So I suppose maybe my brain is actually growing relative to the kids around me. I swear, this technoculture is getting out of hand. I saw two young boys in a family who each had an iPhone. Who needs a fucking iPhone when you're 9? I had fucking hot wheels, and a toy bulldozer I named Rosy. Kids these days! Weaned on this high-velocity, low content information bullshit. Where does the mind meander, yes in endless rivulets of possibility but only ankle-deep, only ever ankle-deep.

sigh.

2009-11-05T23:33:00.000-08:00

with my palms on my eyelids i get that rainbow vision.

though i lose the clarity i gain beauty and wonder all up in my face, and your curious scent, tobacco and sweat and potatoes, the soil. your curious scent.

which is good because if i could see you now, the way you ought to be seen, i would want to walk.

but oh, the bliss blindness brings.

how much of love is tongue-wrought and money-bought and safety-sought, how much of happiness is lost when we hold each other too close too fast. i wonder.

in the wood.

2009-11-04T14:26:00.000-08:00

i want to crush this ominous wood and rummage through the rubble. i want to make a nest of those gnarled trees and in their solid arms i'd place this giant shapeless sadness. i'd put it to rest. i'd perch it on the obsidian face of Time by Prometheus and they both can dream on in those terrible undulating measures of pain and despair.

And I could finally walk away.

Johnnie and I were talking today about acting, and it made me miss it ever so much. I wonder if I have time in my schedule for it next year. MMmm.

I miss memo. Maybe I can see him on Friday. Every week is a busy, busy week for me. Make it stop. huummm.

one small boat on the crest of a towering wave.

2009-11-01T19:18:00.000-08:00

Lately I seem to float through these bizarre moods, but no matter if I'm wrapped in euphoria or indifference or throbbing anger, I feel so spaced out.

I can't seem to give a shit about anything or anybody.

I don't give a shit about the research I need to be doing, or coming to school or work on time. I don't care that I got all these obligations. I just don't care.

But. n'importe quoi. I need to be looking at internships and working out my schedule for next semester. I still have at least 3 semesters left. I'm thinking about taking only 4 classes next semester. This semester itself is flooring me. Saturday was my first day of real rest in a good three or four weeks. Besides hanging out with the I/ST girls I haven't seen anybody but Memo.

Or maybe I'm exaggerating. Yes, I've seen a few other people in there, but well. The meetings are but fleeting and insubstantial.

Another distinctly discomforting mood I've found myself in: crippling insecurity. There are some days I look in the mirror and just claw my face off. This morning I saw my haggard self and lay in Memo's bed just, disappointed and sad.

Last night I went to a party with him. Maya is this real sweet lady. She teaches middle school, and this was an older crowd that came to her house. I don't often feel my age; I try to look past that kind of shit. But man. Man oh man, did I feel young. It wasn't so much the musick. I listen to Snoop Dogg and Salt n Pepa and all that mess.

But maybe it was the slightly frumpy, decaying women in "sexy" costumes awkwardly gyrating with bud lites to Sean Paul's "Temperature". And the awkward older dudes. I mean, Memo's kind of an awkward older dude, too, but I like him.

So even this depressing prospect of going to a thirty-something crowd's halloween get-together got me all funked out before we left the house, and I put on my dead face with dread in my bones. And when we entered the place, it was practically empty. And dark. And quiet. Costumed people stood around slightly forlorn, embarrassed, and confused, as if they had just caught themselves wearing a homemade "Ceiling Fan" costume.

I mean. yeah.

So I felt pretty miserable until my second gigantic cup of cap'n coke.

I don't really like getting drunk anymore, but I eventually came to the realization that I'd

better make the best of the situation or ruin Memo's evening, so I ended up taking a shot with

everyone and having an okay time.

I mostly ditched my friends and turned down other party invitations to spend the night in Memo's arms.

And I didn't know, really, how much I liked him until this morning, when he woke up and was telling me, in the sweetest voice, about this dream he had where he was in a library with a lot of delicious fruit.

And oh, oh, my beating heart.

i'm gone man. i'm solid gone.

2009-10-19T21:33:00.000-07:00

Ahhh habiiiiiibbiiii I am done and gone and gone and done with all this thinking and thinking.

I don't know where I stand on this earth any longer. I feel like the inside of my brain is decaying. I feel like my body is dissolving into the ether.

I want to say I used to be awake. I want to say I used to stand firm and touch the ground with eager hands. I wanted to say I drank in words like thirsty men, sucked the marrow from every last book, ate the glue from the binding just to taste the stories leaking there.

but i'm not. and i don't know where I'm going. sigh.

Oh Des Choix

2009-09-30T08:31:00.000-07:00

Alors. Things have become so heartbreakingly normal, around here.

My only consolation is listening to KCRW in the mornings when I am late for another class.

Sometimes, if I am lucky, the music shakes up a sweet, effervescent bubbling just below my lungs

and I float, mes amis. I float.

Have recently resolved not to buy any makeup until I've used up all my old ones. !

I went to MAC to buy a substantial number of items, and after that it's been hard to bat off

the temptation to buy more.

It is, after all, MAC. Thank goodness the only thing I have from NARS is the

Laguna/Orgasm stuff or I may just be in debt.

I have a lot of dreams, unwarranted, mind, about the other one. I normally never dream about

boys I'm dating or who I like.

Granted I dream a lot about Memo, too. But the conversations, the feelings, the overwhelming

sense of reality, never approaches the kinds of dreams I have about the other.

These feelings, though I fight, are so consumptive I break into pieces when he comes near me.

I just want to be happy with one person, someone who is, enfin, right for me.

That boy is not right for me. But oh! Should he lay his head across my lap once more

I shall faint.

rest

2009-09-15T03:49:00.000-07:00

we shall be given to restlessness and hard labour, and so prevail over lesser things, and step out stronger than by the way we came. sleep is for the weak, and procrastination only the slow gestation of marvellous things, like baby whales or well-written essays.

oh mr. sandman.

2009-09-10T09:41:00.000-07:00

i feel terrible. i have only slept a handful of hours la nuit dernier. after the first hour, i had a nightmare, un vrai couchemar.

i dreamed i had been grazed by a bullet or shot in the top of my head. I had the feeling of utter heaviness and blackness. I could feel terrible difficulty and numbness in trying to turn myself over. Was I, thought I in that slow and sluggish manner, was I dead?

Was I dying?

I gasped upon waking, and the feeling of intense burning and wetness on my crown remained for a good many minutes. I lay there, awake, feeling this wetness even as I touched my own head and found it dry. It hurt, tender and burning, for so many minutes. The darkness in my room was like the darkness of some other place. There was a weight in my bones like my flesh had been packed with muddy coffee grounds. I felt like I was floating, and sick, weightless and yet sinking.

Was I really awake? My head still feels kind of weird and tingly.

I remember thinking, as I always do after these many, many nightmares, that I don't ever want to go back to sleep again. I wanted to call Memo. I wanted to be held. I wanted to know that I was alive and awake.

jesus i'm so tired. and so sick.

sinking slowly

2009-09-07T09:33:00.000-07:00

Did yesterday happen?

I need to stop smoking and drinking. It's making me rust. I am my worst person on these substances. It makes me lonely and depressed afterward.

Or at least it exacerbates my loneliness and depression. I didn't want to be at that kickback in the first place, and there I woke up.

I didn't. Have. Any. Fun. I'm very... angry? Or sad, or something. I want to see someone, talk to someone, that isn't Memo, that isn't Catherine. I'm tired of everybody. I'm sick of people's faces. Their judging, their apathy. I'm fucking tired. I want to leave, without coming back. I'm done, goddammit.

conundrum

2009-09-06T09:51:00.000-07:00

sexisasmallpartofmyrelationshipsexisasmallpartofmyrelationship

the singing man in the deaf parade--

2009-08-26T21:52:00.001-07:00

I sometimes feel like a raving lunatic, or an eccentric scientist or mad prophet, especially when I am trying to explain something wonderful to a host of friends who could not be moved to care or understand.

Sometimes when I am at the library, I feel thus. Or standing in front of a clothes display. Yarn shops, or the word "yarn" also evokes this high and lonely feeling. The intoxicating and unique mixture of several chords and a drumbeat, coagulated into a perfect jelly of song, provokes me into speaking tongues.

And lo, the image of me traipsing out with invisible vapours in wonder and awe amongst the more solid and sane statues of my confused and pitying friends, how it comes.

Ours is a high and lonely destiny.

I'm going to write something down, and you read it and you say if it makes you feel kind of funny, the way it made me feel.

"And when I have become as young as the child that was born yesterday, then I shall take my rising again (for we are at earth's eastern rim) and once more tread the great dance."

- The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C.S. Lewis

No, it probably won't. You'll need to have heard the rest of it all, have learned the whole of it. You'll have to have been briefed in that wondrous lexicon. I have been drinking steadily of the Chronicles of Narnia, one every day for the past few days. If I had not been working yesterday and been busy with the boyfriend before that, I would have finished the last two books already, but I've been slow.

I picked up The Voyage of the Dawn Treader this morning and just finished it this evening, after making beef curry for the boys in the family. The homely stew felt leaden in my mouth, as I read about boy kings and girl queens and talking mice and sailors supping on dazzling liquid light.

like clearing the fox den.

2009-08-24T23:59:00.000-07:00

I am excited by neatness. On trips to Ikea, I am filled with a kind of intense joy to see things compartmentalised into sweet, stylish, and Swedish boxes and bookshelves, into underbed storage units. Like Kit and Nita fighting Entropy in the Young Wizards series, it is like watching the Devil get suckerpunched. Fuck you, Mess! In your place, pants! Serves you right, Errant Towel! Etcetera, etcetera.

But those of you who intimately know me will know that I am a notoriously messy person. It is not so much that I like mess or that I am incapable of cleaning, but my mind does not exist on quite the same plane as my body. I am always elsewhere. While I may be blogging on my bed in front of my Mac now, in Garden Grove, in the slightly chilly Southern California night, I am in Nazi-occupied France with the likes of Eli Roth and Brad Pitt. I do not notice the dust on my desk, nor the dirt on my sheets in the way angels in graveyards do not mind the lichen on their faces. They are not there to care.

But I admit sometimes it gets to be maddening, and the sight of the mess in my room throws in me into a mad kind of frenzy. I feel like there are ants all over my back. A rush of blood hits me square between the shoulders, right up into my head, and I clean everything out. I wipe clean the mirrors, dust the drawers. I organise my lingerie drawer into types of lace and colour. I throw out the trash and lo, I have made my peace.

It is the same with this blog, I guess. I come here when my mind goes crazy, when I have all the languages I have learned and all the songs I have sung all crash together like a cacophonous disaster in my skull. And all the long words tumble out like sequinned gymnasts, and all the big thoughts like marching elephants bespangled and proud. All the sad sentences and the small thoughts, the ponderous loon songs of self-abasement, like tiny clown-cars tooting round the ring. And the vain ideas, the lady shimmering bare-back on the white horse, why they come around too, all naked legs in the spotlight, all bejewelled breasts.

And it gets a little bit better. It makes the maddening crowd, the lions and tigers, the bears, it makes them all right. They do not so much snarl as snicker.

I get so many bad dreams I don't know what to do. I don't want to go to sleep, mother. Five more minutes. Five more minutes.

2009-08-22T12:33:00.001-07:00

Listening to my brother's croaking song, for he feels like he can sing.

Have been filled with prose and prose and prose, ladies and gentlemen. Prose and prose and prose.

I am more restless by the day. Siiiigh.

Went last night to a Dodgers game with Memo and his friends. It was interesting, I was more amused by the people than I was by the game. I felt all yesterday as if I was in some strange dream. It feels gloomy and balmy by turns. The air is silvery gold, and my bones feel filled with mud.

It is 12:30, and I should be at his house at 3. I need to do laundry yet, and some knitting.

I feel so curious! I feel like I'm dreaming, even now.

My financial aid has come in, so I am a few hundred dollars less poor. I pick up my pay check this week, lads and ladies, and I am so glad of it. Money, money, money. A golden balm to blind the eyes.

Have been reading a lot. Finished two books in the last two days. Grazing through the Chronicles of Narnia like a hungry sheep.

Buttermilk Biscuit Bitching

2009-08-10T18:28:00.000-07:00

Probably need friends who are less flaky and more tender.

Just sayin'.

Bought new sketchbook, drove all the way to Westminster Library only find that they are closed for the next seven days.

Also need some Ricola. MMMph

Vulcan Mind Meld Me

2009-08-10T00:02:00.000-07:00

Volunteered at the OC Fair today, which was intense. Met a girl named Denise who goes to CSULB and is an I/ST major. It was wonderful to hang out with her. Had chocolate-covered bacon, deep fried twinkies, and a Martha Stewart Dog from Pink's. So good. Sooo soo good.

Apres, saw Cameron and watched Star Trek together. I'm crushing so hard on Zach Quinto's Spock. I mean, I was crushing heavy on him even as Sylar, but man has sex appeal as an ice-cold Vulcan mastermind.

Roar.

Lately have been feeling the itch of the acting bug stronger than ever. Was looking up classes at OCC and SCR, shuffling my feet before the ice-cold water. I just want to plunge into that mess, but I'm so scared! I don't.. I don't know what to do, or where to go, or who to speak to. Maybe I should talk to the theatre advisor at my school? *sigh* Or Mr. Martin.

Maybe I'll go to him. That seems like the best decision... I miss him, anyway. I want to make amends.... I wonder if he'll accept me back. I feel like I owe him an apology. For creating a rift, for messing things up. I miss him. He said he felt like I was his daughter.

How do you go and fuck something up like that? Something so wholesome and beautiful, "If I ever had a daughter it'd be you." I am the fatted calf, the prodigal son, the spitting image of the home's harbinger.

Miss Memo a little bit. Miss working a little more.

but it did happen

2009-08-06T01:19:00.001-07:00

Just finished Magnolia. Ahhh I like it so much. The sheer humanity of it! It was so tongue-in-cheek and funny, but at the same time so mouthwateringly, eyewateringly tender. MMPH.

I think Doubt has arrived but I haven't yet checked. To be sure, I think my gloves should have arrived by now but they haven't :(

I have spoken before, ladies and gentlemen, on my struggle with desire. As a Buddhist, I ought to cleanse myself of wants and wants, but I find myself spending most of my time, instead of researching and learning and gaining knowledge, I find myself wanting things.

My mother told me that recently my old Buddhist mentor was in the newspaper. He was the chairman of a large Buddhist organisation, and lived in a small temple in Long Beach. I remember him vaguely from my childhood. I remember hopping around like a kangaroo, and him calling me his little kangaroo. I remember liking him immensely. When I think of him, I picture the Dalai Lama. They did not look dissimilar.

He was in the papers recently, though he died before I could quite remember. The man--I suppose you would call him the undertaker, he had been the one to undress my dear old monk--had recounted a story of this undressing. He had peeled back those orange bedsheets, ladies and gentlemen, and had found the old monk's underwear patched, threadbare, darned in many places. Of the many, many donations my old mentor received in his lifetime as a Buddhist monk and a leader in the community, he took none of it for himself, not even for underwear.

On seeing the shabby evidence of my poor monk's selflessness and virtue, the undertaker burst into tears.

In the light of so much goodness, how is it men can still live so close to evil? Though great things are born all around them, like the nebulous winking of stars being born, like millions of larvae blossoming into life in the dark spring night as we touch our heads to sheets to sleep, we seem to see none of it. We take none of that goodness into our own lives, and continue to want, and hate, and kill, and ignore.

I wonder if animals know good or evil, or if morality is a new disease meant to control the population. Whether just or unjust, someone seems to die for it anyway.

My point is, I really want a leather jacket. With a hood. And one without a hood, for work. I want one so bad.

And I want to shop at MAC. I want. I want. I cry myself to sleep on the inside, though all it looks like is slavering jowls, wild wolves wishing and wishing.

idle time

2009-08-04T22:20:00.001-07:00

i idle like an engine purring gently with park in gear

i idle with the supine laze of a lioness gorged on fragile flesh

i idle like a cannonball grating metallic at the back of the throat

of a cannon aimed straight at your mother's broadside

i idle simply because i can

i idle the way tornadoes are begot in the electric silence

on a sweltering Kansas afternoon

i idle like the last two seconds before tomorrow rushes in

all mysterious and shit

such a lie. i simply am idle.

white lights

2009-08-03T11:49:00.000-07:00

Cat's sitting on the better half of the bed.

the day is nearly over. Time runs faster in this room, I swear. I can't wait to work again. Figures I didn't need to attend the orientation after all, and Athena (hopefully!) will contact me on the morrow for my id and shit. Sigh. This thing is taking forever.

Contemplating dropping my Monday Wednesday class since it's like, 11-12. Would give me more opportunities to work, though lord knows I make enough money 2 days a week, I don't need to do more.. But... Sigh. We'll see.

In other news may get a new Siamese kitten.

My brain is just not into thinking lately. Even typing this shit is hard for me. I can't think straight for two seconds. Aggghh.

knit knit knit

2009-07-30T02:10:00.001-07:00

All this knitting is making my head spin. MMMMMmm.

but when you said

2009-07-25T01:31:00.001-07:00

but when you said she hated me

it stung like a slap

and

left 8 shades of bruised regret

blossoming on my astounded cheek

no surprise.

i woke up knowing

that though flies see

with many eyes

cling to any old thing

fly straight to the stars

they are maggot-born

and trash-bred

and even i would

smash them dead.

fuck that shit it's disgusting.

2009-07-20T23:13:00.001-07:00

for being so anorgasmic i have a freakish sex drive. sheesh.

2009-07-16T16:31:00.000-07:00

found random thing i wrote when i was very young.

"when they kiss, it is like an eclipse--slow but inevitably sure."

i like that sentence somehow. i wrote some fucked up things as a kid. geeeezzzz.

until we go the way of all flesh

2009-07-16T13:01:00.000-07:00

My commie heart explodes with guilt.

You ever come across stuff, and once you touch them or hold them or place them upon your guilty crown you realise "this is gonna be with me until I die?"

Hats, ladies and gentlemen. Since I've shorn off my locks, I've realised how much I loved them.

What better invention was there for the human head? Fuck helmets, I want a bowler derby.

I've been getting musicks nonstop for the past few days now. Insomnia begets progress.

Mostly Nujabes stuff, and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club.

Also some misc. Lady Gaga shit, because I'm crushing hard.

I set my laptop to UK spelling sometime in Hong Kong because I was paranoid about spelling errors in class, but now I'm afraid I'll have to switch back and I can't recall how. Huh.

Thinking the Other Day

2009-07-13T11:54:00.000-07:00

Was thinking the other day about this stuck up OC hipster crowd.

I mean, it seems like if you wanna talk to somebody or do anything or get in anywhere you gotta know somebody first. And I don't get it.

I used to get it, before I went to HK. Now, HK was my first experience being on my own and really, I mean really, socialising with people and experiencing all those various consequences and benefits.

Little did I know that my jaunt to HK might well have been a jaunt to the moon. As on the moon, nothing in HK fell with quite the same gravity. People seemed to talk to each other with little introduction, to bond, to connect, to kiss and to fuck and break up all in the same breath. As if none of the usual shit mattered.

And I wonder, as many do, why can't we bring that home? What's wrong with that? I was watching Transformers today, and it's such a typical "boy too lame to get into girl's pants" story. But I wonder if it's outdated in the here and now. I mean, are we still playing by those rules? Perhaps in Buttfuck, Wyoming, but here, really?

Do we still chain ourselves to those same systems of consequences? Do we still judge each other by those same rudimentary and superficial guidelines? Must we still judge?

What are we, animals?

People tell me all the time that race is a social construct. Sex is a social construct. Social classes, tribes, cliques, groups, socially constructed to divide, to unify, to group, to classify. Therefore null and void, therefore unimportant.

But we cannot extricate ourselves from these systems, from these myriad networks. We participate in them wholeheartedly, whether academic or wholly ignorant. To even participate in the argument is to subscribe to a network which believes that anyone who willingly participates in these "socially constructed" systems is a bigot or something.

Roberts criticised me for thinking that sterile hypothetical academic debates were useless. He told me to get out of politics then.

Well, maybe that's what's wrong with teaching kids politics in the first place. We study all kinds of perspectives and ideologies with which to view the world, as if it were a painting or a book.

But the 6 billion people on earth do not typically view the world from these viewpoints. They exist within social constructs, they live and breath sex and race and sexism and racism and hate and love and all that mess, all together.

To try to place yourself somewhere outside of that is to study something else entirely, to devote yourself to serving the Utopian instead of the dystopian, the devolving, the degrading society in which we were born today.

To ignore that some people are actually alright with being ignorant is to be just as ignorant. To criticise the Crusades with bladed tongue is to be yourself some kind of Crusader.

Sorry for the rant. In other news, gonna try and cop my girly's moves. She can dance so well. I dreamed about volcanoes last night and swore I felt the burn of those flying rocks like lava on my fingertips.

What does it mean when your dreams are more real than your reality? I was raped the other night in my head. It was just as traumatising.

Where do these terrifying thoughts come from? Is there a dark place inside my consciousness that wishes to do me in? I have never been more hurt than by my own self.

Rapture

2009-07-12T19:43:00.000-07:00

After about a week, I finally finished the first 20 rows of this bitch. This ain't some bitch's regular stockinette knit shit. It's got all kinds of directions in it, all kinds of holes, all kinds of shapes. This is the kind of stuff you look at while you're knitting and cry softly into the wool.

I'm going to take a break from it and work on my beanie now. Two beanies perhaps. Even a turtle. A brainless fucking turtle.

In other news, my mother is still insane. It's a hot day, and the woman is obsessed with cooking a masterpiece for dinner tonight.

I'm a simple kind of person. I don't expect a lot of food, really. I like boiled spinach and some fish. I like roast garlic and a toast baguette. I eat some yoghurt for brekkie.

My mother tells me I'm putting on weight and then yells at me if I don't eat. She cooks for ten people at a time for a family of three very picky and light eaters. We end up throwing the food out every week. It's absolutely ridiculous. She throws tantrums if we don't eat, telling us we're wasting food, or that we eat out too much.

Truth is mum, when I'm out I really don't eat that much. Geez.

ermine furs adorn imperious

2009-07-11T14:12:00.000-07:00

I've been knitting the same three inches of scarf for the past week. I keep on ripping out rows. It's always the little things I fuck up on. A yarnover here, a missed stitch there. 2 knit stitches instead of 3, so on. so on. It's a complicated checkerboard lace pattern, and I'm knitting with very fine dark blue yarn. If I can just focus it would be beautiful.

I saw my girly today. I can't wait to go out tomorrow night to Pistol. It will be my first time clubbing since Cassie's last night in HK. It will not be as mad, as drunken, as disappointing, but I shall enjoy it.

Lately I have been thinking only of material things, and the thought is depressing. I think day in and day out about clothes and shoes and makeup and it frightens me. My head is empty, empty, empty.

Last night I saw Memo and find myself more and more comfortable with him, able to open up, talk about more than pleasantries, reveal the throbbing sadness and disappointment I always feel just below the surface, groundwater in the blistering sand. I don't know what exactly it is I want out of this besides sex and attention. Maybe that's it. It's such a new feeling. I've never been indifferent about dating anyone. I've always been head over heels. Since HK I've been seeing relationships and love in an entirely new light. I used to think that I couldn't have sex with someone if I wasn't in love. And then that whole thing with Roberts happened.

What had happened, I think, was that I had talked myself out of falling for him. These days I think I can talk myself into and out of anything.

I believe what makes me a great actor is that in my life I am acting every single moment, that I possess no genuine feeling or emotion that motivates my actions or words. Yea, my words motivate my emotion. It's ludicrous and ludicrously complicated to describe.

I often wonder if I wasn't really in love with Emmanuel; I wonder if he was just there at the right time and had fit relatively well into that vague man-shape I needed. If, by mistaking my lust and my neediness and my excitement, I created something like love, maybe even love itself, for him.

If I quelled all the temptations, those numerous temptations, because I felt my increasing boredom was my own fault and not his.

When I spoke to him I broke out in tears, but as soon as I hung up they would cease, I would be silent and empty. Was it real? It scares me to think on it. Was any of it real?

Am I real? I mean my personality and my words, my traits, my reactions, are they really and truly mine or am I like some preposterous mirror or parrot.

Uggghhh. I have lost so many words since coming back. Right now, I've got such an anger inside I can't seem to find the words to describe it, and that maddens me further. I just want to punch somebody. I want to hit myself. I want to steep myself in violence and smoulder into smoke.

2009-06-27T00:33:00.000-07:00

notes on first kisses.

the first makeout session is always awkward, unless it is amazing. there are no in-betweens. unlike having sex with a new person for the first time, it will always feel like the first time you ever kissed a person. the fumbling, the groping, the maneuvering around the gear shift. are there any polite ways to conduct yourself during this nascent ritual, or will it always feel like you have braces on? with onion breath?

lame.

2009-05-22T06:38:00.000-07:00

An observation, perhaps naive, but really wholly innocent, on women travellers:

The girls I have met while backpacking in SE Asia fall into a few categories.

There are the european girls, lithe and golden and tan, floating through the islands of Thailand and the rivers of Laos like angels. They are scantily clad, unimaginably beautiful, but in their eyes I think they are empty, naive. They are on holiday from Sweden, on easter break from London.

we stand anchored to our vanity, eyes wide all jealous and shit.

and then there are the earthen women who trod in the mud of Asia and bloom like lotuses. They are fleshy and beautiful, their eyes shining with earnestness, overflowing with a simple kindness and love for the people here. they are brimming with stories, absolutely jubilant and joyful.

i wonder, should i be like that when i return to america? should i be so bright-eyed and optimistic?

brain is too scattered to contemplate all this. is destroyed. no words anymore. sigh sigh sigh.

2009-04-05T03:46:00.000-07:00

SOMEONE someone someone please throw me up into the sky.

i swore when i first fell i dropped my cellphone and also my keys.

gotta get it back yo.

metaphorically speaking of course.

torrential downpour of thought driving me half insane. sitting here in the 圖書館 just doin chinese and going slowly surely mad, the way a feather falls.

so much work to do. where did this insatiable hunger for fuckin around come from cuz man i been dickin around like no other. i am supposed to like school.

when did this become hard? the day i was disillusioned by this system. the day they labelled me a rebel and tossed me out the gates of studiousness forever.

the day i went jumped on the crazyhorse and never stopped riding.

weeeeee neurosis psychosis i am a small afraid thing wrapped beneath your beating wings. yes yes yes yes yes weeeeeeeeeee.

2009-03-10T06:23:00.000-07:00

am perched on a precipice, surely.

2009-03-02T08:21:00.000-08:00

no matter where i am i have this feeling like i just want to scream and scream and scour clean my filthy insides.

2009-02-22T08:19:00.000-08:00

watching old red hot chili peppers shit and i'm missing cali like a motherfucker. i wanna drive in that cheap gold sunlight, buzz by those cheap ass buildings, cheap ass dirt and cheap ass trees, the superficiality of it all suddenly seeping into my bones like jumping in an ice cold bath. this is home bitch, this is home.

2009-02-08T19:52:00.000-08:00

man on a pallet man on a pallet man on a pallet in a monastery east of here woke up one day to find he had been lied to. there was no god nor clergy nor blessed water in that cold stone place only he and the rats and the rotted straw over which he lay.

shorty let me tell you about my only vice it's got to do with lots of lovin and it ain't nothin nice

it ain't nothin nice

it aint nothin nice.

2009-02-02T04:33:00.000-08:00

almost have the internet set up. yay yay yay yaaay.

been jonesing for good musick, good cigarettes, good people, a cloud of wondrous bliss, et al.

fail. fail. fail.

went for thai today with john and ted. ted is a local i like immensely, as he is quite chill, and john reminds me of my brother a little, as all gawky young men do. he's had two lung surgeries and a bevy of health problems, but he likes oblivion and odd musick. good in my book eh.

bah bah bah bah bah bah bah bah bah.

mgmt is win.

help me i am failing mentally. i have no more mind left. i opened the door upstairs last night to find i had been robbed, and everything had been torn asunder. all the furniture lay in disarray, all my bedsheets took, the lamps broken, the photographs were all of strangers.

maybe i ought to read more.

2009-01-30T08:52:00.000-08:00

just went out for a smoke with james. the cigarette becomes a timer for the amount of time i've got to spend with him before he disappears again. it sucks to come over here and to still be tied down to the land you came from.

though i suppose i ought to be too.

but i won't be. i won't be tied down anywhere. despite the nagging in my head and the hollow aching in my heart, i shan't. i won't.

bought a chain today. i just want to be a tough dyke, now don't i. look at the little asian girl.

who do i think i am. ellen degeneres.

lord and lord and lord and all the heaven You encompass where do i stand on this lonely planet. where do i stand.

who do i think i am. you tell me that because thinking is not what i have been doing lately. i have been drifting in the wind. i have been floating in the haze above kowloon like a spectre, like a mote of carbon dust.

wake up. wake up. wake up.

2009-01-26T22:00:00.000-08:00

so had strange dream about the one back home. strangely satisfyingly and explicitly sexual in a way that woke me up all kinds of puzzled, like why in the world would make me dream that way? except maybe that i had some sheesha all curled up like a tongue in my lungs and it somehow evokes his memory in a curious fashion.

listening again to d. banhart. makes me all warm and fuzzled.

slower than slow here, as i've not even showered and it's 2:02 in the afternoon. everyone is already out with trista and i'm not particularly bothered about going. i'll shower and call them later. oh but what to wear hair and nails and all that jazzzzzz.

feeling oddly in a dream, as always but enhanced by the fact that i have uprooted myself completely from all that is real and all that is important in my life. i feel that nothing i do here is of real consequence, and so am freed.

i'm trying to remember emmanuel, all brown limbs and wild hair, all curled up against me like the way things used to be, that eternal feeling. i failed to remember it, and i sat there on my hard bed summoning up tears from my belly to water down that shameful emptiness.

que reste-t-il de nos amours?

an old picture, church bells, suitcase to a small town on a holiday last june. yes.

ahhhhhhhh i question the meaning of love. i question what it means to say you love someone, to say they complete you when it's so easy to drop it and run. when it's so easy to wake up feeling this kind of empty and this kind of free.

to feel this kind of small and meaningless. i'm a dust mote, i'm a gnat. i'm a human being with wants and wants and wants and nothing to need. and he and i, well we're just two lonely people, two great big empty maws with insatiable hunger.

fuck i used to be so innocent and i used to think that love contained the goodness in people but really it is the rumbling hunger of our hearts. it is the twang of need in the flitting feeling of our groins.

or is that lust. or is that love. or is love lust cushioned in the pity of god.

who knows anymore. i want smoke and i want pain. i want to stop and wake up for once. goddamn.

someday will probably look back in shame.

2009-01-07T02:27:00.000-08:00

so am still alive, finally found way to get on the internet at least on the express terminals. apparently getting internet on my own laptop is tedious and laborous process. have no time for it at least until.... sunday? haa.

i don't even know what day it is. wednesday? wednesday. Monday night went to wondrous hotpot restaurant and stared in amusement as a hoard of foreigners clumsily grasped at their food with chopsticks and blankly pondered the strange eats. afterwards went to billy boozers, a local pub, where they served exasperatingly expensive alcohol but everyone got drunk anyway. met wonderful people. stayed out till 4. still managed to shower before passing out. last thought: who the fuck did i make friends with??

last night went to ridiculously expensive rice pot restaurant which was only so-so. wandered the night market which was interesting but nothing i've not seen before. what was curious was the farther along we went we started to see little dildo booths popping up, sparse at first but then multiplying until we couldn't go two booths without seeing uncomfortable images of anonymous asses clad in used thong underwear and gyrating, pulsating sex toys.

everyone else went to a club after i guess but the few stragglers i was with decided to hang out elsewhere, first going to bahama mama's for expensive fruity shit cocktails and then wandering victoria harbour looking at the wonderful sparkling skyline. we all realized then and there, aw fuck we live here.

tried to find billy boozers again but failed. took cab back to school where we found our crazy friend lily hanging with guy from texas isaac. i turned in early as was dead tired.

going to happy valley tonight. don't know if i'll enjoy it as i still am tired. tomorrow must drop off the old ladies at the airport which will be an uncomfortably emotional situation i am loathe to participate in. my mum has been terribly grabby today. ugh.

this morning got the brilliant idea to listen to devendra banhart on my little ipod as i was leaving for mong kok. instantly i felt well and whole again. maybe the sound of the city, all rushed and lonely and isolated, is making me feel so.

i really truly hate large groups and if given any kind of choice would probably rather stick to solitude. somehow making small talk with strangers is more lonely, as if i can now see how lonely and small i really am.

on the to-do list:

have got to deal with that whole 'being socially inept' problem. not going to get me anywhere in hk.

today a lady asked me where she could find wong tai sin. in cantonese. i think i turned bright red trying to grate out enough chinese to make sense. i feel quite embarassed because half the time they think i'm a local. ugh. anyway.

won't post again till i've got photos for you all. see you then.

two updates in a day means i'm deathly bored.

2009-01-04T00:17:00.000-08:00

and feeling a tad unwell. i tried to have an american breakfast this morning at our usual chinese porridge place and was disappointed.

a) shit was about 19 dollars, which is expensive considering that a bowl of porridge is only $13.

b) bacon was half-cooked and stringy. i still wolfed it down. <--not exactly picky.

c) i think the bacon made me ill.

that or all the hk greasy street food is partying in my belly. not fun.

When you live in a place like HK, I have decided it is best to locate your nearest market where you can find shit to cook in your room or fruit to eat, as I'm already feeling like I got machine grease injected into my veins. I've got this ridiculously delicious salmon en papillote recipe you can cook on a sheet of tinfoil in a microwave that I intend to utilize at least some of the time here. Cuz while it's not cheaper than street food, I reckon it sure is gonna be healthier.

There's a lot of South Asians here. I want to talk to them about how they came to be, how they find Hong Kong life, what are their thoughts on this or that. I want to talk to people! My mother is not allowing, as strangers lurk about every corner waiting to rape a young foreign thing. But every local I meet tells me the same thing, so the danger must really be there, a long shadow with an insidious owner around the corner somewhere.

Also drink a shitload of water, kids. These toxins and chemicals in the air and in the greasy food require much to flush it out. And you walk EVERYWHERE in this town, sitting only for the odd taxi cab ride, a seat on the subway si tu as de la chance. Don't get dehydrated in this enchanting cesspool :P

2009-01-03T17:27:00.000-08:00

You know, when I was in Macau, all of a sudden, I heard Edith Piaf's clear and glorious voice trumpeting to my left. And though it was only two ballroom dancers having at it at the bottom of a staircase in front of a crowd of tourists, I was envigorated. Music will ground you when you are lonely and abroad. I feel like Thumbelina all wrapped up in her mother's great big hand when I'm listening to the soft and subtle notes of Wutang Clan's Shame on a Nigga.

We have quite run out of things to do insofar as these old ladies can handle. All day yesterday we waded through a sea of boot and leg in the Fa Yuen Street Market. Bought me a great big handbag to fill bricks with in case I get manhandled. Also bought sheets, as the university's not providing.

Found knitting heaven at Fa Yuen Market. Saw several booths selling nothing but novelty yarns and any kind of needles and stitch markers and gauges and *glazes over* I mean, I guess it's not like silk yarn or merino or anything but I could die here. Happy. That's a whole other blog though.

Need to get hangers, and all other kinds of amenities. When studying abroad, you always got to make sure to bring the little things. For example, if you're going to Hong Kong, do bring one of those little packets of tissue, as most ma 'n pa restaurants will not provide napkins for you with which to wipe down the greasy chopsticks and spoons.

Of course if you're going to dine like a rich foreigner in those places with clean tableware, go ahead, but I only got so much cash and my stomach ain't so discerning.

Sorry if I sound a little antiquated. Was reading All the Pretty Horses all last night. Comepletely wooed by Cormac McCarthy's poetic prose, the stark yet sumptuous lyricism of his imagery. That and I adore westerns.

Have got scads of pictures. Am downloading Irfanview now to edit that shit. Need to have time to post the pics up, so will do so at school when I have the leisure.

Can't wait to get rid of these old bags, as they are a whole lot of baggage for a lady to be carryin' around. I love my mum and aunt to death, but that old lady is annoying the fuuuck out of me. Honestly can't wait to meet and hang out with people my own age, drink legally. Karaoke. War games. Mmm.

Shabop shalom baby.

kind of depressing.

2009-01-02T16:44:00.000-08:00

Went to ladies' market night before last, which is like going to Chinatown except actually in China. Ladies' market is just one long strip of bootleg bazaar reaching a few blocks in length. After the first two blocks, however, you realize that everybody's hockin' the same shit, and then you head back, only to realize that you're lost. There was a contortionist begging in the middle of the way. The horrible smell of Stinking Tofu permeating everything. A little like a nightmare. Made worse because I had three old ladies in tow, and they kept stopping to look at bootleg Tumi luggage. And I kept wanting to stop and look at the cock costumes they had on display every five feet.

Bought a couple nice silver rings for 10 bucks USD. In the states they'd be 20 each. I try not to think about where they're made and by whom. For what.

It's hard when you're a stupide americaine traveling abroad and you've learned about this shit in the classroom. I mean, on the one hand, you don't want to support transnational crime organizations and child labor. On the other hand, shit is cheap. And the whole breadth and depth of the scheme is so large and encompassing you don't know what and where to go for any kind of legit shit. Honestly, if it's not the clothes at the ladies' market then it's the socks in the stores, or the bedsheets at the hostel.

But that can't be an excuse. You gots to make choices, and change what you can. Which I suppose is hard, since the mindset around here is that you can't.

But anyhow. Had expensive dinner with more old ladies and one of their well-to-do sons. The place is called Crystal Palace, and it's got decent Peking and Szechuan food. Hate to think about the paycheck.

The next day, we took a taxi to Tsim Sha Tsui to take the ferry to Macau. Tickets are decent in the daytime. Like 133 HK, but the return trip is like 175 HK at 7:30 in the evening.

The aunt and mum being asian and typical were swayed by very persistent tourist guide for exorbitant price. I think it was like $1000HK for 3 hours but we talked him down to $600 or something.

Anyway, it was interesting as we talked more with him and learned about his family and where he was from. He took us to an AMAZING little bakery where they had egg tarts that just made me die. Delicioussss. But it took like a half hour to get them, the little place was so packed.

So I guess it was worth it, to have experienced it. Guy needs to work, right.

Alllssooo. On the way back our taxi driver told us that all the subway lines were shut down because somebody threw themselves onto the tracks. Suckz.

Also for new years' a gathering of people were silly enough to light a billion sparklers inside a crowded club. a fire of course ensued. sigh.

Came back and had really good chinese sausage and spinach rice. I could eat this everyday. A little expensive at 35 bucks a bowl, but two people could handle a bowl and still get stuffed. No english menus though.

While trying to handle my earrings I spilled tea tree oil all over the bed. Shit is potent. Now, while I love the smell of tea tree oil and can deal with sleeping in it, the old ladies with me kicked up a fuss and we slept with the windows open, traffick noise blaring in, but the lovely smells of eucalyptus wafting out. Slept very well.

I discovered a huge worn copy of Cormac McCarthy's All The Pretty Horses and the sequels at the hostel. Funny, since I had wanted to shell out cash for it in the states, but I found it here, a hidden gem. Mmm. But I have no time to read it. :( Might steal it, might buy it off them. Probably the latter. Fuckin' conscience :P.

Am now sitting here in the lobby listening to Wu Tang Clan, want to call Catherine but don't really want to deal with the other people here. That I think she might get annoyed with me wanting to talk to her all the time. But I do :(.

Will post pics tonight, si c'est possible.

2008-12-31T17:58:00.000-08:00

had bizarre dream last night where robbie, tracey hartman, and jon were present. robbie was being himself, tracey herself. jon gave me a ride somewhere in a ginormous truck. after he opened the passenger door and helped me down and kissed me. it was strange and the kiss real. i guess i am pretty jealous, but for why? i don't know. i don't want to think about it.

no time to fuck

2008-12-31T17:27:00.000-08:00

hey kids, been real busy. the old ladies are rushing me to go here go there, ugh. but it's ok. i enjoy it :D.

no time to post pictures, as i am woken up in the early a.m. to go eat breakfast and then it's this or that.

i had two whole posts for this blog on the plane, but i can't seem to copyxpaste. quel domage, eh.

so long story short, it was alright, akin to a very long road trip except much louder and in the air. the view was spectacular for the first hour or so as los angeles peeled away beneath us like a sparkling golden snakeskin onto a nightblack sea. the prettiest you'll ever get to see our little shithole.

i slept the first seven hours then watched hk movies and wall-e for the remainder. Catherine gave me a very surprising gift that filled my fitful naps with terrifying and unwanted sexual fantasies. What a friend. What a pal.

Got loads and loads of pictures. Can't wait to edit and post. not.

The first day we got here we arrived at seven in the morning. We dropped off our shit at the Dragon Hostel on 83 Argyle St., which is smack dab in the middle of it all, pretty much. I really like this place and could stand living here for the whole six months. It's only 20 dollars a day for a single room (40 or so for four people), the staff is great, all kinds of folks internationale passing through, and there's free wifi in the lobby. Downside is I can't skypesex Catherine at eight in the morning without feeling slightly embarassed by the other clientele.

Anyhow. We drop off our shit and head downstairs to wander a bit for breakfast. We end up at a little porridge shop where they sell these decent bowls of congee for like 13 dollars HK, which is less than 2 dollars US. For the four of us who had four bowls of congee and two or three plates of fried bread wrapped in rice sheets (omg heaven) it came out to be something like 11 dollars US.

omg. food heaven, je suis ariveé.

what else did we do. went shopping for sim card for my cell phone (which has broken, btw). You can buy a sim card for your cell if it's unlocked for international use. The sim card is usually anywhere from $68HK-$100HK($10USD-$14USD) at around 15 to 25 cents HK per minute. Pretty good deal, if all you need a telephone for is to reach people about the city while you're out and about.

What else did we do? Had dinner with other old ladies, which is HORRIBLE OMG SO BORING. What's worse is we also had BREAKFAST WITH MORE OLD LADIES. All of whom are amazed by the fact that I don't look chinese at all and nod politely at my horrible cantonese. like a curiosity. a linguistic amputee who happens to look filipino. ahhhh my life.

The next day was more exciting, as it was new year's eve. after the aforementioned torture dim sum venture, we roamed to kowloon tong where i found my school and met Lorencio, who has spearheaded the international student experience and makes life easier for all of us. afterwards took train to sha tin where we roamed some more.

BTW, if you love high end malls, you will love HK. I swear we cannot go for five minutes without falling headlong into another designer deathtrap. I saw four or five different Burberrys and Vivienne Westwoods just yesterday. Ridiculous. Almost as bad as 7 eleven.

Felt sick and tired from eating too much food too fast so went back to hostel to nap and squander time until about 8 o'clock pm, whereupon I dragged my mother with me to Tsim Tsa Shui to sit for four hours in the cold and crowded to watch fireworks along Victoria Harbour.

Getting there was pas dificile, but man, gettin' out was INSANE. I'll post pictures later. Packed and packed with people. It took us an hour and a half to walk from the harbour all the way back to Jordan Station where we stuffed, stuffed, stuffed ourselves onto a crowded train back to Mong Kok.

Lord. But it was worth it. I slept the whole night.

This morning we wandered to a won ton shop where we had wonton soup for about $10HK. I can't get over how cheap this shit is. You could have three square meals for about 5 bucks USD a day.

We're going to go to Lantau Island today to see the huge Buddha statue. possibly monkey hill, too. to feed monkeys :D.

will update later. possibly tonight, possibly tomorrow night. we're going to go to macau tomorrow.

kids and kids i am finally excited. :D

the start of it.

2008-12-24T03:03:00.000-08:00

i'm starting a new travel blog to chronicle my adventures in hong kong. this is for anyone who's ever thought about studying abroad but didn't have the guts. this is for anyone who hasn't yet stepped onto an airplane. cuz god knows i didn't until now. will hope for better visuals in the coming days, and coherency.

2008-12-10T21:51:00.001-08:00

so my plugs came. that will distract me long enough to stop feeling miserable.

i feel so goddam depressed now, for no particular reason. If I was forced to be honest, I'd say it was because of seeing Catherine and John together. Maybe it's because I'm pretty attracted to John, or else it's because it's like me and Catherine's sister Kay are alike in that we're both hideous attention whores.

In my heart there is a dark dark maw that aches wide open for the glimmering spotlight. it's like staring into a black hole. like one day my self-esteem collapsed on itself and created an implosion of cretinous codependence. so now i'm wholly dependent on what other people think of me.

it's too tiring to explain. or write out. i just want attention. i'm sorry. it's so ignoble. so cretinous. that's such a beautiful word. cretinous. that's what i am. a cretin.

a fucking schleb.

yeah that's probably it. i just want the attention of young attractive men. i want to be held and loved but at the same time i am repulsed by the idea. i don't want anyone to touch me. i can't even touch myself.

the only one i feel comfortable holding is emmanuel. him and only him for now and for eternity. that's the damn truth.

but i can't allow myself even that.

he's just my heroin, and i have to quit, and this empty loneliness is my withdrawal. that's all. i just have to think like that for now. i'm so terrifyingly sad.

i drove home today half in tears. i want to cry all the time.

2008-12-09T14:00:00.000-08:00

georgia. geoorgiaa. the whooole day through.

so good.

music is all i need man. i could disappear into the sweet relief of a song, a box of blueberries bouncing softly into a bowl of cool, whipped cream. just like that.

i don't want boys but there they are. too much. i just want to study. i want a clean empty room with a clean empty desk and time, time, time to study.

2008-12-03T06:44:00.000-08:00

i sleep but wake up absolutely exhausted. a pile of clothes grows in my room. something unfinished sits at the top of my to-do list and i can't quite put my finger on it.

i feel pathetic as always. this girl that hangs out with dave a lot, nadine (who is pretty but also pretty silly) calls me very pretty and i look at her because it sounds so absurd.

the exboyfriend leaves a voicemail, telling me not to call him to see if he's alright. he says he keeps thinking about me, etc. where did he go wrong, etc.

oh gosh. whatever. he needs to quit it before he reallllly pisses me off.

tres est mechant. il aime une autre. et moi, j'ai aucune idee quoi faire.

2008-12-02T13:51:00.000-08:00

tapp tapp where the pussy at i dunno i dunno i dunno..........

That song is playing in my head all day all the times. it's terrrible.

我的名字是林安娜。我常常去王先生的商店買筆和書。

2008-11-24T16:30:00.000-08:00

ahhh. hey kids

i am empty and sad. i need to fill my empty heart with people. a lot of cute boys on campus, none of them worthy. i want to smooooke. a cigarette. sigh sigh sigh. maybe tomorrow. maybe.

met cute guy today, like, seriously cute. like clive owen javier bardem type. said he was a writer, etc. had pretentious typewriter, moleskin notebook. obviously.

asked to see credentials. gave me a writings, poorly typed:

shit was like, a bro's journal. shit was like, stuff a high school kid did with one hand in his pocket, ya dig?

dis. a. ppointing.

i hate when people describe a beautiful woman in a book. so sophomoric, so juvenile. 'oh she had fair skin and long lean legs that lead up to a place i only dreamed of, etc. perky breasts'

a grocery list, an itinerary. unappealing.

it is enough to say she was beautiful. to do more than that is to try and prove it.

beautiful things stand for themselves.

anyway. the convo disintegrated after that.

ahh fuck guys. all the smart ones are ugly and the pretty ones dull.

and the smart pretty ones are beyond me. i am an ugly thing.

i know cuz i checked my ugly mug in photobooth and it told me so.

haha i got a macbook bitch.

2008-11-21T11:46:00.000-08:00

found this note in the annals of my email account:

oh my heart my heart my heart i clove it in two i ate one half and gave the other to you. i don't know if you tossed it or lost it or what but the half that i ate is tearing my gut.

2008-11-20T21:08:00.000-08:00

fuck i'm so sad. this book is depressing me, but i am depressed because i will need to take all of emmanuel's things and put them in a box, and put it in my trunk, and take the box to riverside, and give them to him. and say they don't belong to me, they belong to you, your things. not our things. yours.

but i feel that it must be this way, or otherwise i will never be happy.

to shy from pain is to be afraid of it, and i shall not be scared. i shall be strong. i have to be. but why this utter, incomprehensible, oppressive weight of dread fear, a slow smoldering loneliness like two eyes placed steadily on a vantage just beyond my ken?

lo lo lo.

2008-11-20T18:22:00.000-08:00

I am shouting for joy in the cavernous halls of newfound independence, but the cries echo back in empty tones of loneliness.

2008-11-16T00:28:00.000-08:00

i want to be like mae west. she's so glamorous, so fierce. she is every gay boy's wet dream.

i want to be unattached from everything.

i wonder what he kisses like. aagghhh. i hate my stupid brain. how it's connected to my stupid vagina. why wasn't i born a man, or lesbian. i wouldn't have so many problems.

2008-11-10T20:02:00.000-08:00

i'm absolutely useless. i forget everything. i'm so useless it's painful to type this shit out. roaaarrr.

i can't even send anything out correctly. i wasted fucking twenty five fucking dollars for nothing, because i left out documents. fuck. nobody else is this idiotic. why can't i follow instructions.

easy, peasy instructions. just read the list and do what it says. why is that so hard.

and i call myself smart. i deign to sign forms. fuck that shit. i'm an idiot. grade f. idiot. how pathetic.

i don't deserve to be with anyone. least with emmanuel. fuck all the rest.

fuck this shit. fuck me. gah.

2008-11-08T00:19:00.000-08:00

i was turning off the lights in the living room, and i thought to myself, innocuously, "is missy asleep?"

of course she is.

and that's when it really fucking hit me. this really fucking sucks. i held her beautiful head in my hands, and she was already gone. it was the first time i had held someone who had passed. she was my old lady, my golden girl. i'm never gonna see that same silly face again. i'll no longer have a reason to buy tennis balls because she never returns them to me.

i miss my dog. fuck the chihuahua. i want my old lady back.

2008-11-04T09:38:00.001-08:00

have got a new room et new floors et al. feel like rotten egg inside new pristine shell.

I think i'm getting distracted by all kinds of peripheral shit, and I hate it. I want to throw out all my clothes, chop off all my hair. :[

guilt guilt guilt? probably.

2008-10-30T19:06:00.000-07:00

My cat does not like fancy schmancy cat toys. No brightly colored french ticklers for her. Though I'd like to buy her fancy toys. My animals are simple things, they like balls of aluminum foil, soup bones from the actual soup, not this packaged chitterlings and gravy gourmet shit. well, the cat does, but like me she is a professed hypocrite.

My mum brought home supply of large cardboard boxes. I have set up one and placed it on the ground. My cat has come over, staring at the box as if it held the answer. She meows at me, twitches her tail. What's in here, she seems to ask. She jumps in, jumps out. paws at something invisible inside. She will get bored, leave, then return.

If I could only get that excited about the mundane again, or find that the mundane is not mundane but all that we really need in life.

Lo, I stand again on that dreadful precipice.

A million things to do, love. Finish that visa app., I've to move out of this room. Finally getting that wood flooring I dreamed of, but to what purpose? I shall look at that lovely shade of oak for two months and then the dreary modernist interior design of city university dorms for 5 months.

Hotel rooms, airbus cabins, taxi cabs, sticky bus vinyl floors, cement, tile, linoleum, department stores, sweet Hong Kong grass, mysterious Chinese sand. Lo! I stand again on that dreadful precipice, where shall I go.

2008-10-27T11:07:00.001-07:00

In an effort to blow steam.

I have deduced that Alex, while a nice guy, has some anger issues, and does not like people.

This is probably why he dresses the way he does, and is an angry little white boy.

Man, when men are angry, they are really vicious. They needs to chill out.

Dilemma. Hardfest is sold out EVERYWHAR. Why.

And mother even let me go. SHE EVEN LET ME GO HOLY HELL.

It is only after I find tickets that I will find someone to cover for me at work. This is so I will not lose any money or sleep.

Haaaaa. Life works itself into funny situations.

I am without prose today.

Prof. Simoni made me feel like an idiot.

All my professors do.

Why am I doing so poorly? Gambatte!

2008-10-25T08:34:00.001-07:00

It's like wandering through a desert and coming back upon the same, gnarled skeleton half-buried in the sand. Over and over. I keep crying but it is like pouring tears on a rock, useless, nul.

My coughs taste like blood.

Sigh.

2008-10-24T20:10:00.000-07:00

I've a hollow in my heart, and the wind whistles through, and I am cold.

So life is equal parts exciting and happy and also terrifyingly sad.

I am on the verge of breaking up with Emmanuel.

I don't want to stay with him if he is going to be the same man.

I want to stay with him if he is willing to look at me like I am a human being.

If he is willing to treat me like a human being.

But alas there there is a puddle of cool, still water at my feet in which my reflection peers up at me and says, "Lo, he shall not change."

I've been sad and hurt so many times that this last fight has been like hacking at dead wood. I feel none of it. But when he called me just now and spoke to me genially, I started crying.

I feel so at odds with myself. It should just be easy, like buying beef at the market.

I never imagined having to slaughter the damn cow.

2008-10-22T12:25:00.000-07:00

Actually spoke with Mike today in language lab. He has rounded eyebrows. *nod*

He's a pretty cool down-to earth guy. I'm very jealous of his ability to travel everywhar. For example, he is going to China in November to visit his girlfriend.

I wish Emmanuel could do that if I was in Hong Kong.

Correction lads and ladies that is now when I am in Hong Kong. I got accepted :D Now it's just paperwork and those kinds of formalities.

I hate this cough. I can't wait for it to go away so I can go back to the gym. :(

Haven't spoken to Emmanuel in two days. He called me back this morning and we spoke for a little. I thought he was mad at me but he says he wasn't. It was awkward; probably because he was sleepy. I let him sleep.

I think I'm starting to find myself.

Well, I don't really agree with the idea that you're finding yourself just because of the fact that you're making more friends.

That's like saying I am nothing without the right group of people around me. Undesirable thoughts.

But I am feeling happier since I've been making friends with the int'l studies people.

The guy who looks like a Persian Heath Ledger is named Trace and on closer inspection doesn't so much look like Heath Ledger as he does a kind of maybe Asian Heath Ledger with some kind of Jewish thrown in. He is German as well as Swiss and has a profound German nationalist brewing in there somewheres. Fond of black v-necks and jeans, like Emmanuel.

I can't even think about Emmanuel right now. I can't even think about him in a warm cuddly way, much less sexually or critically. I just... can't think of him at all without conjuring up these wounded feelings.

And about what, I don't know.

Maybe it's a profound weariness? Maybe I'm just sick of this shit.

2008-10-21T14:27:00.000-07:00

Dreamed up a shrug made out of soft green wool. Perhaps it should be felted, or no, just with chunky grass-green yarn. It would have gathered puff sleeves with a princess collar and and curvy rounded shapes. Matching green enamel buttons. There should be little bobbles on it, maybe some border panels with curling shapes. Haa.

It's these kinds of thoughts that keep me sane, that keep me floating like a lily pad above all the mud. I've been meeting all kinds of wonderful people, and it's hard for me to think that I am anybody all that special.

Cookie is this amazing girl, and I feel a bit cowed in her presence. She is of the earth, and I am a whisper in the grass. She stands firm, her and all her youthful girth radiates warmth like a cliffside in the sun. I really like her. I feel stupid around her though.

Had debate with Ali about conforming to the system and what it meant to be educated. He said to stop comparing ourselves with others and making judgments on people based on our own standards. We argued because I told him he was wasting his time at the University if he wasn't showing up to tests in Chinese class, to which he responded he didn't care.

Maybe I should stop comparing myself to other people. I most certainly am. Sitting in I/ST 200 is like going to an intellectual beauty pageant in which Mike is the perennial Miss Universe and everyone else is a spinning twirling galaxy and I, I am a dust mote, I am a hydrogen atom dissolving into protons and electrons and back again. I am not even stable enough to remain whole at any one time.

I am the semblance of a whole. I want to fall apart at this table right now. My dignity, like a weak magnetic field, shakes me, tells me to pull it together, man. We've not weathered the worst of this storm.

In other words, I feel useless.

Yesterday met beautiful spirit named Annie while I was hanging with Dave at his usual place. Met a girl named Amanda who seemed very young and already had a daughter aged 3. Met tall person named Collin who was fun. Met even funner person named Matthew who was just a riot and I suspect gay.

Annie sang for us "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and made the whole of my day. She varnished my day with a color of sunshine, the color of her voice. She sang with such a classic and pure voice, as if Audrey Hepburn or Judy G. herself was singing to us, like a sparrow song.

But the heavy rain of insecurity and sorrow washed that happy color off my day and by the end of the night I was depressed and sullen yet again.

Will there be no permanent happiness for me? The more I delve into something, the more I find that I have accomplished nothing at all.

Why do I hate people so much? Was it because I was raised in loneliness, and now I shall flounder in it? LIFE LIFE LIFE you are si dur.

2008-10-19T23:15:00.000-07:00

sonic youth- superstar

don't you remember you told me you loved me babyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy~~~

baby baby baby baby baby~~

lalala.

everytime he fucks it up i love him a little less. and one day it shall dwindle to nothing, and it will hurt less than shaving my legs to leave him. one day.

and yesterday i loved him so much it hurt.

and i will repeat myself everyday, like a mantra for independence. and it shall go on and on and on.

i'm hurting so bad right now. i don't know what to do.

fuck it fuck it fuck it, man.

i wonder if all relationships are like this. or if it's possible to be with somebody and just be chill and whatever about it all. not like completely anal about every fucking detail.

or if like rusting gears it always winds down to a cold brittleness. a glass etching held above the ground at great heights. and etc.

2008-10-05T11:23:00.000-07:00

Wondering if I should get more into this blogging thing. I need to get a new camera, one that is small and portable, which will allow me to document things more easily, ie. take camwhore pictures wherever possible.

I lost 5 lbs. since that first Gogol concert. Am currently devising way to convince Mum that all I need to lose weight is more concerts and clubs. Unexpected leverage.

Currently feel like I was in a fight with a crowd. Like a whole crowd. Like a mass of arms and legs jumping and bumping together, crashing on my limbs. An old bearded man elbowed me in the crown yesterday during Gogol's spirited rendition of Harem in Tuscany, but it was all in good fun. I love that about these kinds of shows. You could fall on someone's breasts and they'd just shrug it off. YAAAY breasts.

Now must slake thirst with something, anything. Who's in town next, where else to go. Despite the obvious limp in my poor foot, and the aching in my arms and the small of my back, I am invigorated.

That's such a good word. Invigorate. To imbue with life. To make lively. To make alive.

I am made alive with this music. I am made alive, and I look forward to doing things. Yes yes yay.

AHHHH HELLO PEOPLES OF THE WORLD.

Everytime Emmanuel says something disparaging I love him just a little less. And yet everytime I see him and everytime he kisses my forehead my love for him is renewed. Yesterday he was very beautiful, and I was happy to be with him.

At first I believed he loved me more than I loved him. But the tables have turned.

This does not invigorate me.

2008-10-04T10:55:00.000-07:00

i am so sick. :( can only hope to enjoy today. sorely wished i was in the best of form, but alas. feel fuckin' awful. what else can you ask for eh.

lallalalalalallaalallalalalallalala. i wrote a poem, but am loath to post it, as i am scared to shit of having my shit copied. oh oh plagiarism. people will stoop to no lows, i tell thee.

dadadadadadadadafd ddaaadaadadadadadadadadadaaaa da da.

so excited to see gogol again today. everything else is secondary.

hopefully emmanuel will not be asshole today. will sorely dampen spirits.

the grass is growing. how exhilerating and exciting, the study of the mysterious birth of things. no wonder children are so precious. what curious a thing is growth. oh oh oh.

calmez-vous calmez-vous. j'ai mal au coeur.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

j'ai mal au coeur. quelqu'un, aidez-moi. aidez-moi. mon coeur tombe quand il doit voler.

2008-09-25T12:34:00.000-07:00

Everytime I try to talk about the barren wasteland that is my uterus, I feel like crying. But if I don't talk about it at all, it's ok. Typing it is ok, too. Somehow, it feels more like somebody else's problem.

Emmanuel says he doesn't care, that we can just adopt, that it's just temporary, the doctor said so. I hope so.

I've never really given it much thought, but I really did want to have a child of my own. The time, the pain, the frustration a couple goes through to have a child, it seemed so magical. If Emmanuel and I went through that it would bind us forever. We would have a child together.

It's so funny how we say words without realizing their power. Repeat it yourself again, slowly. Savor and appreciate, realize all the implications of that singular sentence.

We would have a child together.

I won't ever get to know what that's like.

I guess typing it is not okay, either.

In other news, I am writing my essay for Study Abroad and am having a time of it. It's only supposed to be a page long, so I am scrabbling for terse words, culling for brevity.

Also I am looking at clothes and shoes and plugs. I haven't bought anything at all! Just food, and it's been 20 dollars a frickin' day for the past few days. My friends are expensive. Mes amis sont tres cher.

Tomorrow I should like to go to a museum, perhaps, or to the Huntington Library. I'd like to have a nice day, doing something nice, eating somewhere nice. I feel well enough to go running tonight. I shall do so.

Gone are the days in which I vacillated for hours on end. I realized that instead of lying about for half an hour dreaming of being Chun Li, I could actually train to be Chun Li.

You all really don't know how much I'd like to be Chun Li, with her fecund thighs.

Fecundity is not a word that shall describe me, anymore. Lalalala.

2008-09-24T11:33:00.000-07:00

i vacillate, mes amis. i vacillate.

i also hunger. am very hungry, atm. am wondering what i shall get for food. perhaps just a smoothie? or something perhaps more substantial, like a salad. om nom nom nom.

have been lately obsessed with Vagabond, the story of Miyamoto Musashi. :) the art is si beau, it makes me want to cry. For example, there was a closeup of a sandal that was so expertly rendered I wondered if he had simply xeroxed a photo. each and every fiber on that twine-woven sandal strap was expertly and vividly recreated. It was beaaauuuttifffulll. And his storytelling is quite divine.

in other news, if my period doesn't come today, i am infertile. it has been ten days. the depoprovera is making me sick. i feel horrid and tired all the time.

maybe i would like a salad. with some tomates.

will shortly be working on an essay for study abroad. i shall finish this before i luncheon.

in other news i think emmanuel has a job interview today. that is pleasing. hopefully he does well. i so sorely want him to do well. :(

hmmmm.. no time to do reading. i have to abandon the idea that i will have a social life and devote myself entirely to my work. i will perhaps have a piece of cheesecake when i go home, though. it's sitting there, waiting innocently. i want tomorrow to be over already, so that friday can come. that's my only day off now, truly and surely. all my days are crammed full of nonsense and business.

no time to do reading. i'm ashamed of myself. no more social life, no more social life. my head hurts immensely. i just want to go home and sleep. and eat. and sleep some more.

will have to go running, though. perhaps later at night, when i am not so wrapped up in the details of being alive?

2008-09-15T20:50:00.000-07:00

Am trying to make some sense of my week.

Today did school, went to Rancho with Eden to visit the old folks. Encounter with Martin equal parts awkward, bitter, and funny, like biting into a malformed lime.

Kept falling asleep in class.

Had terrible nightmare last night about some guy who ambushed me in the all-too realistic setting of my bedroom. He had cried "SNIPER RIFLE" before sniper rifling me in the gut. Enraged by such a terrible dream death, I struggled to awaken as pain enveloped my belly and blood gushed from my mouth. Then I went back to sleep dreaming about elementary school and Kingdom Hearts antics. Lighthearted, epic fun. Woo.

Went to the doctor, as I am concerned about the fact that my crotch has not let forth its bloody deluge since... like... January.

Took pregnancy test, which came up negative. So I took a blood test and am taking depo provera in the hopes that it might induce a period. It will, if I'm ovulating.

If I don't get a period in ten days, it means that I am not ovulating.

Which means I'm infertile.

Which means I can't have kids.

The doctor explained that it wasn't some kind of death sentence: that just because I might be infertile now doesn't mean I won't be fertile at some point later. So that might account for why I don't care so much. Kids, whatever.

The blood test is to test for a couple things. Either I have a thyroid disorder or I have a tumor which is supressing my cycle and causing my amenorrhea (lack of menstruation).

Good news all around, eh.

2008-09-08T10:54:00.000-07:00

i desire to be a seditious rapscallion.

just got out of class. my new favorite, kids. global politics, oh, it's like stepping onto a minefield of supressed anger and passion. Like you had pent up bunnies in hutches and fed them gray pellets of subpar public education for twelve years and now had let them out onto the fresh, green grass of a true public forum. Like someone had said: "The World And What Pisses You Off About It: Go."

Fantastic. Really educated people getting together and finally spouting off their heads. This young guy, named David, who looks a lot like Moby and checks the stocks on his black Macbook Pro, won't stop talking. I mean, it's cool, hey, this impassioned jeune, you know, but it's a bit disruptive. He's very idealistic, saying that the masses ought to rise up and come together, like a youth brigade tending to the hurts of the lesser peoples.

Well, wouldn't it be wonderful, but you'd have to take man and make him an angel. You'd have to have a million Bodhi trees under which we all must sit and fast, and there would be no more pain for anybody. It would be marvellous, but kids it doesn't work that way! Oh, David! Please understand, the party system as we know it won't work the way you want, and people have got their individual problems and that's the way it is, quite simply. Sad sad sad.

Will be seeing Emmanuel in Long Beach today. Looking forward to doing something real substantial today: what, I don't quite know, but hopefully it requires more than us lounging in my car at Rite-Aid like we normally do. Gosh that's old. I really want to stretch my legs out, cats.

dance dance dance hay!

2008-09-06T12:15:00.000-07:00

am feeling v. down.

i'm taking a look at all these classes, and it feels as if i have burst my own bubble. i feel like, all along, i have pretended to be on the top of this hill, when really i am at the bottom of the mountain.

all along i have imagined that perhaps i am pretty damn smart. but kids there are a million others smarter and bolder and wonderfuller than i. it is a saddening thought.

what caaan you do.

i need to speak to dr. noble, but i don't really relish speaking to him. he makes me feel very stupid, as if i ought to know this stuff already. i feel quite lost. i wonder if it's not so much the sense of confusion and displacement as it is the confounding sense of stupidity in which i have steeped myself, like realizing i've peed my pants after a good guffaw.

kids what are we left with. sigh sigh sigh.

made spam musubis yesterday with emmanuel. good times.

2008-08-22T09:58:00.000-07:00

song: heroin- the velvet underground

this song makes me feel real insignificant, as if the feelings i feel and the thoughts i think are just stinking rotten thoughts, real unimportant shit, you know? and... well. it leaves me speechless.

hey jesus! jesus guys hey.

i hope emmanuel is really real about smoking together, that would be ever so grand. bruce says you shouldn't have sex when you're on drugs, because it makes all sober sex afterwards pale in comparison.

man, talk about forbidden fruit.

soooooo.... i don't think this song is finished. it cuts off right at the end :(.

aaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhh.... yeah, it cuts off. i'll just download a new one from trusty bitttorrent.

i shoulda been born with these songs. i feel like my heartstrings have finally found the right notes to sing.

kids the day is not yet started, and yet all i want to do is dream and dream and sleep. i want school to start, so i can commence being so busy i don't eat, and don't sleep, and run all around and around and be lonely again, as usual.

i'm so lonely at school, kids, and i am there all the times. i really don't want to go through that again. sigh.

with hope and sadness maybe i shall dive into schoolwork so far i won't notice.

i wish emmanuel was closer. it's so hard to dedicate a whole day to seeing him. i wish i could do more things, some days. like join the newspaper. aahhhh high.

2008-08-01T23:58:00.000-07:00

hats.

I have become obsessed with this hat. I finished one yesterday, and am now experimenting on something shimmery shiny and wonderful with this deep purple heathered satin sport yarn. Mmmm the name is as sumptuous as the yarn feels. :D I've gotten almost to the point of finishing, but I decided to rip out half of it tomorrow and start again with another pattern. I want it to be pretty! And shell stitch is very pretty indeed. I'm very tired. My eyes are caked with eyeliner and mascara and I need to wipe that shit off. Ugh. Tired guys.

2008-07-10T04:54:00.001-07:00

I want to bottle this smell.

I've got this shirt from Emmanuel with me, and it smells all 100% him, all heady and fragrant like incense. MMmmmfdf.

I haven't slept at all. I'm writing an essay.

My brain is deteriorating, btw. Gone are the days when 6-8 page essays were the norm. Gone are the days when I could spin out a 4 page hand-written essay in less than 40 minutes.

alarming, how we disappoint ourselves over the course of a lifetime.

Goodness gracious it's only 4 pages. Come on, now.

Agghh. Cats are soft.

I am crocheting. I have done finally a granny square that actually looks like it ought to be a granny square. I tried a second one but it turned into a pentagon and so it lays now a curled mass of ripped out stitches on my floor, like vibrant turquoise pubes.

2008-06-25T23:28:00.000-07:00

wonder if it is possible to stop liking sex.

personally speaking, of course.

ugh.

2008-06-18T20:56:00.000-07:00

angels in the dust gone wrinkle it up gone wrinkle it up

i feel sad again. even as i'm typing this shit, it feels too tedious and terrible to go on with it.

it's just so stupid, and i feel i'm being whiny. so i won't even talk about it.

smoked hashish for the first time for reals yesterday. bruce is such an instigator. he wickedly made us take hit after hit. i think i did three or four, and minh was doing terribly at it, so he kept making her do even more just to catch up with me.

it was a terrible, harrowing experience. i thought i was going to die, ladies and gentlemen. there's no sensible way to describe it. it wasn't very poetic. wasn't very noble.

in short, if someone asked me to do it again at a party, i would say no. it put me in a place on the other side of reality. i don't ever want to see that place again until i die. really.

i feel emptied out, like a tin can with pebbles in.

2008-06-12T22:12:00.000-07:00

aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh. no, it's not over yet. i don't want it to be over. i don't. but i don't think he understands. i don't think he wants to understand.

i think, most of all, he doesn't see why it's so bad. i see that he thinks i'm being fussy, i'm being silly, and i am taxing his patience.

i just don't see why anyone would want to be with someone who was so mean. and i want him to know that. because i love him, and it's the last thing i would want for him, to be so mean and not know it. because words count, even if he doesn't think so. when our relationship is just so, words are all we have. we don't have enough time and we have too much space for actions to have lasting effect. it's the words that build the bonds, it's the words that carry value.

warm touches fade to memory, but words are fuel to ignite the flame.

i love him. so much that it aches, but i feel sad when i'm with him. i feel sad when i talk to him, because every five minutes is another slight, another impatient insult, another exasperated moan. he hates every little thing now.

he makes me feel like i'm such a terrible person, and I don't know what to say or do about it except go, because i don't want to be where i'm not wanted.

the world is round, else we'd see the end of it. i never saw the end of this.

2008-05-07T18:53:00.000-07:00

the jacarandas are blooming, so why is it si gloomie?

uhh. spent more money today.

dad asked how much taking missy to the vet was. i told him it cost 70 dollars, so he ended up giving me like 80 or so which is okay, considering it really cost me some 330 dollars.

sometimes, i'm such a good kid, i just hate myself.

anyway.

went to strip of vintage shops in long beach with the boyfriend, found some interesting things. a gift for the pute, a new wallet that was 10 dollars but is now 5 bucks :D and a dress that cost me a whopping 30 bucks. I KNOW, for a vintage dress, but it was cute.

thing is i have to redo the sleeves since they're tight, but that's easy even i can manage to redo that. me and my fat arms haha.

i also saw a satin varsity jacket like the one the bf has, but smaller, like a chick size one. wanted it so bad to match the boyfriend's, but it was 150 dollars.

the shop i went to is called immani's, it's really cute the clothes are adorable. but vintage being vintage, well, you know. the prices are si cher.

and there's still that dress in the tiki shop that's still waiting for me to lose 20 pounds. i just want a 24 inch waist......... 3 inches to go, piper.

also spent extravagant amount on stuff for my sore and aching feet since it seems i can't wear any shoes that are in any way cute because my toes will start screaming bloody murder. the boyfriend asked why girls buy shoes that they know will hurt them, and i replied that fifty percent of the time i'm blissfully unaware that they would cause any pain. alas. alas. and then the other fifty percent is willful ignorance.

for example, those old-lady t-strap mary janes i had started hurting an hour after i put them on. and i've had them for years! why why why.

anyway, enough about spending.

wanted to draw short comic about poe, him and snails.

i think csulb is infested with snails. honestly. something about the moisture from the top of the hill dripping down to the bottom, meaning more moist environments and more places for snails to be happy. i walked past this giant boulder sitting in a decorative patch of garden and there were at least 60 snails clinging to its underside. and walking past a secluded corner of the computer lab i saw three snails crossing a path, stalk eyes beseeching a safe way across. they're large and healthy there, those calstate sluggers.

they're so fragile, you know, snails. even in their inherent repulsiveness, how can such vulnerable creatures be alive? the slightest weight, the hintest hint of salt, the unassuming footfall of a footman, and they are toasted. and yet they seek paths, and cross roads, and eat people's cabbage. how life moves!

2008-04-25T00:42:00.000-07:00

i've got a heart of lead.

anyway i just finished a pretty spectacular fanfic about superman and lex luthor getting it on. it's a really happy sunshiney family story about clark, lex, and their genetically engineered lovechild Kon aka Superboy.

That's not something some poor fanfic writer made up, actually. Superboy is actually a part of the DC Universe, like some bunch of professional writers came together, did a couple lines of the good ol' white and brite and shat this shit out. "Test tube baby created with Lex and Superman's DNA" my ass. It sounds like they worked it backwards. "Lex and Superman have lovechild, how do we make this feasible?????"

I have to send this to Cory, he would shit himself.

It's pretty sexy though.

why am i such a stickler for gay sex? what is it about the tenderness and the gay and the men and the penises (penii?) that get me all warm and fuzzy?

am wondering if i am really a gay man in woman's body, and wouldn't i like a thing to stick into other things.

i've a hollow in this tree.

watching bill o'reilly do antics on youtube. i hate when fundamentalists get together and spout shit. it's one of those cases where you talk so much shit you end up talking shit on yourself. pretty hilarious, and sad. and annoying. too much shouting.

sad sad sad. saaad.

2008-04-21T09:38:00.000-07:00

money corrupts, buy a puppy.

so life has been equal parts boring and wonderful, like the birth of a calf in rural Tennessee.

sold 1135 dollars yesterday in facepaints. this is remarkable for several reasons:

a. i did probably over 60-70 facepaints. this means more than 60 kids had parents willing to shell out almost 20 dollars each for a slice of transient and washable happiness. and more glitter than they've ever known. what better metaphor is there to describe the intangibility of our desires than the facepaint? I see parents getting angry over how expensive water is in Disneyland, or how expensive are pickles. But those things are valuable in intrinsic ways. What the fuck does a facepaint give you except maybe fifteen minutes of pure childish glee and then four or five more hours of consciously and carefully trying to get your money's worth?

plastic surgery is probably the next least useful thing on the list for similar reasons.

b. i got paid a 21% cut of 1135 dollars, which, though being a paltry sum in comparison, means I made roughly 29 dollars per hour yesterday.

c. once you hit your first 1000, the company gives you a 100 dollar bonus.

d. my paycheck is going to be fat next week.

e. i'm guilty about being this happy about bullshit.

In other news, I can't get my life together.

Harmony Korine was on Indie 103.1 today, on Joe Escalante's morning show. They waxed poetic about various things, mostly centered around Korine's filmography and his fantastic life.

The interview reminded me of one of Bright Eye's albums in which Conor Oberst stages a radio interview and fucks with the host in his tremulous and neurotic way. I guess both Korine and Oberst have that spring-coil springtime fragility in common. That and crack cocaine.

Korine is at least more coherent than in his interview with David Letterman almost 10 years back, where he is so drugged up he can't even finish sentences.

But I'm glad I caught that interview this morning, it made my day. Definitely seeing Mister Lonely on May 9th.

Got drunk friday night with my favorite cousin and mon frere. Mon frere is already on his way to alcoholism, having previously magicked away all the wine bottles in our household, so he did okay. But me and mike kinda overdid it. we watched darjeeling limited, which is a fun and pretty movie to see drunk.

I threw up on my bed, which is not so fun and pretty. Spent the next two days managing that mess, which is for the most part taken care of.

Mum's in San Jose until tonight, so am funked out about how to manage the household until then.

I need to see Rocky Horror Picture Show. Someone remind me I have that on my desk.

I want a vanilla bean. I want to facepaint ice cream cones. I want things. I want to want something better than things.

2008-04-07T18:10:00.000-07:00

Had hideous stomach flu.

The last time I went to the doctor was on January 30, 2008. There on their Reality Scales, I weighed 141.8 lbs.

Saturday, April 5th, 2008, I stepped on that mighty plate and came in at a less hefty but still hefty 136.4 lbs.

141.8
136.4
-------
5.4 lbs lost.

Hooh-Ray! What a feat for the lump.

3 cholos blew kisses at me today while I was at the atm. And me the racist was scared of being robbed. All they wanted to do was me. :[ I oughta be ashamed.

Thinking of writing things down, thinking of really doing them. Thinking of all the lists I have written and have never looked at again. I think I am a thinker, not really a doer. That doing is for others to do, and what I am for is for thinking.

Watched Mr. Magorium's Magical Emporium today at Tiffany's house. What a splendid movie. A bit short, but I guess when it's for kids these days you have to cut things short and put a bunch of sprinkles on it. It had Natalie Portman AND Dustin Hoffman, two things dear to me.

And the monkey. You know the :( monkey. Awwwwwwww monkey.

CLOSURE!

Tiff got into Soka University, which is a school she is v. excited about. :D I am glad for her. In a way she has become like my little sister, of whom I am very secretly protective and boastful. And a bit jealous. I guess I feel kind of like James, in that she is more talented than I am. Like a kind of Russian Doll thing.

Really want to make stuffed animals. Starting off with that treeling. Kind of want to really go to Michael's like now, but will probably end up going tomorrow. Seeing as I have important business to attend to. What time does Michael's open?

How big will the Treeling end up? If I give it to Mr. Durand, will he appreciates it?

I should have a wicker basket of stuffed animals on my dresser. How entertaining! And a red coat rack. And a wood floor. And a ceiling that is..... yellow!

How charming!

Comme c'est curieux comme c'est bizarre.

Martin?

MARTIN?

Lately when I have let my brain go it runs like my dog around the room.

I could have deep v's in any and every color. They are so charmant. Mais si cher.

asdlkfja;kdf

Emmanuel has been sick. It makes me very lonely as he has not had the energy or the stomach to deal with my pining and irascible sadness.

The more I love something the more I fear losing it.

The sad thing is he fell in love with me thinking I was so grown-up. Sorry sunshine, I am a small, needy kitten.

2008-03-27T14:40:00.001-07:00

the restroom in the school library is a sauna. a gross fucking sauna. it's humid in there, and i feel i am breathing the warm collective steam of everyone's little shitbowl.

like a dog grooming parlor where the pooches get steambathed. fucking gross.

While in there I wondered if every life is a particular formula, or if every life has its particular forumulas, in which people are variables, in which fate is a constant, and the equation produces various amounts of happiness or hate or sex or what.

the toilet really is a spot for thinky-dinking.

dirty thinking.

even in the two weeks since i have picked up my paycheck, i have managed to spend some 350 dollars. almost. am clinging to thin principles like a dick to a condom.

I want red eyeshadow. Why is this so difficult to get??

Why do I want?

Waited some five hours for the boyfriend to get off work yesterday. he was supposed to get off at four, they kept him till 7. I had already gotten there at 1.

that's more like 6, isn't it?

but it was worth it, to be with him, and to make him a little happier at the end of his day. he worked nearly 12 hours for shit pay. that's like 96 dollars.

God knows if I worked a 12 hour shift at facepainting from 8 to 8 I prolly woulda made 200 or better. It's not fair, dude. I fucking facepaint.

He produces useful service to shitty customers. It really isn't fair.

But anyways I got intimate with the inner workings of the Galleria at Tyler in Riverside. I guess this is a pretty massive mall in Riverside. Judging by the stores in there and the availability and variety of products I'm going to go ahead and say that it's somewhere in between Main Place and South Coast, but definitely closer to Main Place. I probably walked through the mall's two floors four or five times and went into almost all of the stores except the puppy store which smells like a dingy beach restroom and is full of suffocated and half-dead pups nestled in shredded newspaper like broken porcelain figures at the Goodwill.

All in all spent six dollars which is pretty good considering I used to drop eighty dollars at the drop of a hat. Now spending six dollars on a hamburger seems an atrocious price to pay. I like my newfound sense of thrift. It validates me.

Bought a stick of rock candy, pellegrino, and a pair of 9 ft. shoelaces for the Docs Emmanuel bought me. Had no idea that twenty-eyes required such work and such huge amounts of string.

When I get home tonight I shall spend some time making those boots feel loved. Reminds me I have shoe polish and some moleskin left over. Contemplating buying one of those shoe sole things since the soles in mine seem like to blister my feet worse than the road to Golgotha.

I waaaant to see my boyfriend tomoorrroooowwwwww. :[

btw wondering if the human body is like a star or Io, largest moon of Jupiter, in which outer forces affect the inner forces deep inside us and therefore cause the myriad rifts and shifts on our geological planes much like tidal forces from Jupiter cause friction within Io's core and produces volcanic activity on its surface.

Would explain my whiteheads in any case.

2008-03-20T17:19:00.000-07:00

did you know there's a website called ratemycock.com? Kinda self explanatory.

now that i found it, it amazes me that i'd never imagined it might exist. do they have ratemyass.com? ratemyboobs.com? ratemytwat.com? huh.

aaaanyhow, looking at that website made me more and more thankful for emmanuel. i mean there was some scary looking cocks on there. like cancerous growths scary. at least for me. ick.

then there were the ones that look like you couldn't find them anywhere else but a novelty shop. again, for lil old me, that's a little frightening.

ick.

2008-03-19T11:25:00.000-07:00

Ggggg. i have a speech to give in half an hour. there is a fleeting hum of trepidation in my belly, which is weird because i am used to speaking in front of large groups of people.

and i am not concerned over the quality of my speeches. it is dangerously good.

payday today. somehow the resolution i made about saving my cashes seems to wither away. :[

o capitalisme! comme c'est magnifique, comme c'est puissante!

at least the boyfriend is letting me pay for his textbook. this will give him some fifty dollars extra so he can buy something else he undoubtedly needs and lets him study harder and better so later he can pay me back with his ease of mind and his love and some burritos.

seriously his situation is making me sad. i want him to be glad and easy again, the way he was when he met me. it seemed that the stability of his job had given him free reign to be as silly and relaxed as he could be. now, some tension, some new problem, some busted bolt or thinning tread on his tires makes him seem so sad and stressed out.

Truthfully, EZ Lube does not pay enough for a kid trying to put his ass through school and manage bills at the same time. I wish he could find a better job, and if that means that I have to pay for some of his shit is an okay possiblity. I could do that.

I mean, if Tom can get paid 13 an hour doing tires at American Tires, then why does Emmanuel have to get paid the bare minimum working 40 hours a week? That's bullshit! :[ i just need things to be better for him. i want my happy monkey.

2008-03-14T23:47:00.000-07:00

Had fantastic day today.

First woke up a bit angry at Emmanuel cuz he said something insensitive last night but it wore off by the time I got over to Riverside. We went to Mt. Rubidoux and climbed to the top (which is a hillside stroll compared to the hikes in Yosemite that I remember), and basically had a splendid and sweaty morning. Emmanuel of course had to do something to prove his virility and jumped from one rock to another, lost his balance and nearly fell to his death. :\ His arm got scratched up, the silly goose.

Well, not to his death, but you know.

We ate sandwiches for brunch and napped. Drove back to my house and slept/sexed for an hour while my dad was in the house. I think it thrilled him to be so near death.

Got tacos at the place Casian recommended. Pretty good. Paid in quarters cuz I'm broke as fuck. Drove Emmanuel back to Riverside where I couldn't leave him for an hour.

We talked about any number of topics, but the one that stuck was when we talked about me having sex with other people. I guess he thinks it's inevitable that I would sleep with other people, and that he sort of wanted me to go out and experience other things.

But I still feel that I can't do that to him. Even with his approval or whatever, it just seems too wrong, too selfish, too hurtful. Cuz you know you can say one thing, but when it comes down to it, it will hurt and hurt and.

Found out about summer school in Montreal. Sounds super interesting, kind of want to go for it. It's 1020 dollars for the whole thing not including traveling and spending expenses. There's supposedly a 600 dollar grant but I dunno.

Montreal! Such a fine city, of French and music and beauty and wonder! And I could see Ed? Oh wonders of wonders!

What if Emmanuel could come, and I could tuck him away in a box? He would love the Jazz Festival, I think. Oh wonders! WONDERS! lol.

2008-03-11T20:38:00.001-07:00

Been reading up on transfer admissions stuff. I was lying abed the other night thinking, well where am I going? And I realized if I didn't fire off these emails and make these appointments and make these phone calls I would be going nowhere. Making nothing of myself.

Comme c'est rigoreux.

Is that a word? It sounds like it oughta be. Ai.

Hmmmmmmm. HMMMMMMM. HAAAAAMMMM. I exist in a place outside my brain. It seems like everyone accomplishes so much more than I do.

Today lab class was cut short so I decided I wanted to go to Riverside and surprise Emmanuel at work. He seemed very happy to see me :D We had some Del Taco (their tacos are so tasteless but whatever I was hungry and happy so it was ambrosia) and he talked to me about his paper and I made some suggestions. We cuddled awww. I only got to see him for a half hour but it was pretty worth it.

Made it back to school at around 1. Ran into TJ and chatted with her. We planned to meet up again at 3 but I didn't see her. :[ I don't have her number either but I guess I'll chat her up on Facebook.

While I was there I ran into John from Astronomy and we hung out while I was typing out a Geography assignment on Islam. Pretty cool.

After we saw the film on Islam in Geography today I started debating the nature of Islam with this old guy named Dave. He seemed pretty adamant that Islam was a violent faith.

I don't know what kind of point he was trying to make by pointing that out. I mean, no matter what kinds of things you point at Islam, you could turn right around and point it at Christianity.

Violence, I would argue, is not inherent in Islam, and it is not inherent in Christianity. It is inherent in human nature. Religion ought to be something that counteracts those animal instincts of people, raises them up, puts them beyond the simple fight for survival and elevates them to enlightenment for the greater good of the earth and stuff.

But shit don't pan out that way.

Anyway it was a friendly debate and afterwards I shook his hand and asked his name. Walked out to the car with Richard who is terribly clueless about the class. He wants to start some kind of geography study group with Arvin and stuff. I guess that would be okay, except I think I might be the only one who knew shit.

Kinda testifies to the kind of school CSULB is when you only attend class 2/3 of the time and still make the Dean's List. Shit's too easy, I guess. I gotta focus on self-embetterment. That's not a word, but it sounds better than the self-embitterment I put myself through currently.

My laptop crapped out on me too. More shit to handle, more shit to do. Have to jog tomorrow morning. Not so evil a prospect as it used to be.

Had really bizarre dreams last night about people dying and something about work and a very unusual scene in which Jose Ricardo was fingering me. That's kind of frightening because Jose Ricardo while being pretty cool is not the kind of guy I want to date or be fingered by. Bleh.

Anyways I'm rambling. Schwinggg

2008-03-06T20:37:00.000-08:00

Shit. I think I just wrenched my back.

I'm only 19! And I can't bend over.. Ahhhhh.

been thinkin maybe the human heart grows cumbersome with time, till we can't turn about without cuffing somebody. i wonder if i can throw off these heavy coats of emotive nada and move through the room nimble and free, loving one and all in naked lightness, innocence.

don't want to hurt anybody. want to have a good opinion of myself but doin' so would mean I am like an eye, lookin' out on the world without lookin back on me. And that's unfair, that's building a tower up of myself. And that's not right, is it?

After I dropped off Catherine, I went to the Walgreens on Chapman and looked at makeup cuz you know, that's what I do. Anyways I spotted this bottle of green nailpolish, the perfectest emerald and realized I had no such color.

When did I hate the color green? I can't believe I never owned such a verdant varnish. Suffice to say at a price of 2 for 3 dollah I had to snatch it along with a blushing work-safe pink.

Pink and green, pink and green, these two colors have fueled me for the night. I have words to say, pictures to draw. I'm all 'spired for the evening darling.

Now if only I could work the crick out of my back. I want to jog tomorrow, shit. Can't hobble along like I'm older than mi madre.

I feel sort of light, like my chest is a breezy bramble of bone, and my heart an ember dangling. Fruitless.