arbyyyyy's.

it would be interesting to start a secular/freethought student organization here. I'm really not sure how many members it would procure, this being mississippi... maybe if I served pralines. everyone loves pralines.

the vp is speaking spanish in the bathroom.
the free box on my floor is almost overflowing.
I put a flower in my hair today, but it was uncomfortable.
I rediscovered public libraries. my younger self is, no doubt, horrified at the distant relationship book borrowing and I have had for the past few years. in my defense: my permanent residence's public library is pathetic, and I can't find anything there.
hemingway is pretty ace.

when I shave in the morning
you don't recognize me

I ask if you're still there
and you answer, "truly"

- stars.

also:

according to wikipedia, this is a part of one of brendan behan's poems:

"I absolutely must decline
To dance in the streets with Gertrude Stein
And as for Alice B. Toklas,
I'd rather eat a box of Fucking chocolates."

mmmm. toklas chocolate.

to echo ashlyn's post from long ago... I'm writing nonfiction willingly.* I should probably be having an existential crisis from this, but I have one everyday, so it's passé.

*semi-willingly. I avoid writing about my family and myself. I hate being a coward in any way, so I'm forcing myself to write about these things. GO ME. Tea in two and a-little-more-than-a-half days.

typically, it currently involves communism.

I am going to write a romantic poem. I don't think it's a love poem. I don't know if I want to write one of those yet. Or ever.

yim conversation on my day.

instead of telling this blog all about new student day, which was today, I'm going to c & p a conversation on yahoo! instant messenger I held after the day was done, i.e., a conversation that took places a few minutes ago.

ignore the parts that talk about red and other things and references to words exchanged not on the script; we were im doodling.

Anna: new student day. we performed for the accepted future juniors, etc.
Anna: ON A SATURDAY.
Amethyst Rayne: that blows
Anna: meeting the new foetuses was cool, though.
Amethyst Rayne: who
Anna: and cheering and clapping so hard for our staff when they were introduced (along with all of the other students lololol. I love these people) that I think I may have busted a few blood vessels.*
Anna: *exaggeration.
Anna: the incoming juniors. they're foetuses.
Amethyst Rayne: i was making the whole thing red damn
Anna: (: FOILED.
Amethyst Rayne: then we could draw on top of red
Anna: and one of the incoming junior lits asked in q & a if [my instructor] really knew everything, and simultaneously we were all YES SHE DOES SHE WAS A FISHERMAN AND LIVED IN AFRICA AND WENT SPELUNKING.
Anna: and it was all true.
Anna: also, faygo. nom nom nom.
Amethyst Rayne: holy shit
Anna: she's fucking amazing.
Anna: [my instructor] is secretly from another, more awesome universe, so she has no gender. she's just made of awesome.
Amethyst Rayne: nmice
Amethyst Rayne: *nice
Anna: YES.
Anna: and then I talked with donald and shelby about stupid shit and we all held walruses and talked about getting kicked out of abercrombie and fitch and [the history teacher] was there and then we were DISMISSED.

the conversation continued onto less interesting things.

subject colon

your biographies are boring, you literature people. I want to know more about you than I want to know that you've been published in every magazine/journal/review/good homes and gardens since merlin's time. CAN'T YOU PUT THAT SOMEWHERE ELSE. ):

tea tea tea tea saturday school cry cry MUSIC science articles are blocked acquiring more water this poem sucks.

april twentieth.

I fail at school and caring about things that are supposed to be important.

I wish I could just rap about pokemon and get a grade for it.

my childhood.

HOLY SHIT.

I used to go over to my friend's place when I used to not have a modern computer with internet capabilities (typewriter, black screen with orange text ftw) and play disney games. including this one.

I also used her internet for researching a paper on shrimp. but mostly for games and ms paint.

he resides in my dorm room.

this is my dragon. I received him for christmas last year.
it is time the internet met him.
























please imagine me smiling. I am totally smiling. my dragon is smiling--with lots of teeth, even.

april sixteenth

my play is some sort of horrible contrived mess.

bend in the fields.

am I the only teenager who did not like (500) Days of Summer?

on the ninety-seventh floor overlooking tokyo.

if a high school diploma wasn't more valuable than a GED, I would have gotten the latter a long, long time ago and gone to college. my quintessential recurring line from fifth grade until now, varying in degrees of articulation depending on the year: fuck this shit.

about a month to go before I can pretend formal school does not exist for a while.

and then you may even be drawn into one of those satanic laundry room parties.

College Rant on Putting off Laundry.

If you are one of those cheeky do-good, "hygienic" people, you may spend dollar upon dollar on laundry when there is not even a fatal need for it. Unlike those squares, we the enlightened few wait until the last second, wait one more second after that last second, and THEN we do our laundry. In our procrastination we have saved precious pennies.

Except for the fact that you can't use pennies in laundry machines. But everything else is pathetically true for at least half of my school's population.

end stop

my short story is fragmenting, and I do not like writing it.

I want to live in an apartment.
I want to live in a house with open space. call the laundry room the mudroom. have a balcony. live on top of the roof in winter for a day, for as long as it takes to count the roof tiles and tire of having no walls.

will grayson, will grayson is out.

this song has the most mediocre metaphor repeated over and over. I still like it.

I was called a bitch today--I've never regretted, and I still don't, what I've said before someone called me that or the equivalent. usually, in my view, what I said would be something they would have said had to someone else in the same situation if they had more of a spine.

or maybe I am just a virulent fucker, ha ha.

tea tea tea tea. why do they only serve cold drinks here? they're either diet or filled with a disgusting amount of sugar.

april seventh

I will never be an english major. that I knew before I came here. however--
I will probably never be a creative writing major, either. unless I can focus on poetry... and even then, I wouldn't really want to follow up with it.

it is so odd, seeing the people that want to go through creative writing in college. I like looking at their faces the most out of everyone else's. they are so interesting to observe.

and sometimes this "growing up" (what a dreadful phrase; I have probably done all of the vertical growth in stature possible at this point) business seems like all you're doing is eliminating more options.

I wish I had taken that official's offer and skipped a grade or two. what a drag, school.

I just want to sleep. I want to sleep on the grass outside and I want to sleep in a room with only one bed and in someone else's bed when they are not there and in their bed when they are there and I want to stare up at the ceiling with them. and neither of us will say a goddamned thing.

all I want to do anymore is fucking sleep.



new stars cd this summer. their "fixed" single is available for download--link on their facebook. or on stereogum.

april fifth

tapes should still be a popular medium so I can make mix tapes instead of mix cds. mix tapes = romantic, mix cds = how nice. it would be a tale if you could set someone on a course through a series of rooms: every room would have a different song, and the person would have to stay in the room until the song was finished, even if it had ten seconds of unnecessary silence at the end.

related music: "the mixed tape" by jack's mannequin, "mix tape" from the avenue q musical, charlie's playlist in the perks of being a wallflower.

napowrimo is going to be a series of mediocre, hasty poems. I feel it.

white oleander = done reading.

collateral murder. incidents like this have probably happened before, but that doesn't make the isolated incidents any less disturbing. they were laughing about it, these men that represent my country.

I was reading poetry's april 2010 issue, and though I do not like the poem, Outage by rae armantrout, the poet's response to "how far does Like go?", referring to a line from the poem, "Like only goes so far.," was interesting--

"Poetry is full of comparisons and parallels. It seems to trust in resemblance. But the value of rsesemblance--and the empathy it provokes--is rather starkly limited. Even twins or clones don't literally share the same sensations. That makes me wonder what makes a self a self..."

oh, and janie's got a dissolvo ray.

earl grey, you evade me.

easter. no one else has quite expressed most of my thoughts, if not feelings, on easter like pz meyers. though my thoughts do not run so far as "a holiday for the mindless."

nonetheless, I am sick of living in a community--a country--in which the majority of persons let a murdering, invisible, nonexistent entity run their lives and say that this god has "planned something for me," or that "I'm doing this for god. I'm helping these people because I know god wants me to."

plan your own life. help people because they are in pain, because they need help, not because you're afraid of eternal suffering yourself if you don't do a "good deed."

not all theists are like that, but so many of them are, and it's frightening to see people believe in a loving god that will send them to hell, some eternal place of pain, if they don't do what they think he tells them to do.

anyway, I took a shower and I feel quite well. :D if only I had hot tea.

april fourth.

asleep // the smiths. listen.
(except it is already morning.

and you know, parentheses, how difficult it is to awaken
even if e e cummings uses you.)

I don't like similes. they are the bitches at the metaphor table.

:|

a senior Vatican priest (and one of his Jewish friends, supposedly) juxtaposed the Jews' persecution and the controversy over sexual abuse linked to the Catholic church. there are far, far too many words for this, and none of them positive.