pigeons

"airplanes" // b.o.b--the video would be better if hayley and b.o.b were in a shot together at least once. it's disconnected as is.

still remember the line from garcia lorca's "little viennese waltz."

Because I love you, my love, I love you
in the attic where the children play,
dreaming ancient lights of Hungary

--taken from the version in the sleeping on the wing anthology.

you're good, I think, if you can mention love in a poem and not sound trite.
maybe spanish ii will be made a better class if I apply it to understanding the original spanish version of this poem.

and would spend your nights home with your parents

suburbs with you - herman dune.

I still fancy talking shit
about people we just met
and sittin' down for a coffee with you
coffee with you

three in the afternoon

"TJ's whole damn life is one big LARP" - ek weaver on one of her characters from her comic tj and amal.

man.

I have the five ghosts from stars, now. I adore it. and the one track I have from the ep.

leave me out with the waste.

I'm thinking someone's trying to fuck with me
and set fire to my wood

[. . .]if you can't tell if I’m lying
then you do not belong.

ep ep ep.

my phone is dead.
I am still not writing.
brookhaven at the end of the month or early july.

re: wg^2 // jg & dl--screw talking, I would have let maura drown in her emo poetry.
I liked the rest.
I cannot quite fathom eating two burritos, let alone one. I suppose this is why I am not tiny-size.

eta: zune marketplace is listing music so obscure that even it does not have the music available for purchase--and youtube only has live versions of the music.

alejandro.

yes.

there are grammatical errors in this book. (not referencing the following.)

purchased this afternoon: books // godless by dan barker and the new paste (technically a magazine). tea // two boxes of double bergamot earl grey tea and decaf chocolate hazelnut tea (the latter of which I bought for my mother).

sent out letters to s. and z. I hope they appreciate my massive skills with crayon utensils.

"lake pontchartrain" by ludo is a good song. it is also placed in the area where I grew up, though the woods flooded far more than the interstate.

send me letters kthx.
and cheez-its.
and tea bags of known sources.

"high maintenance" means
you're a gluttonous queen
narcissistic and mean.

I have to use cooke and mack in lost odyssey (360), because the guys in my party can't find another way around some ancient ruins. the only purposes they serve are to link their skills to my immortals.

and their voices remind me of the rugrats' voices from that awful cartoon.
the rugrats.

I would probably be angry at myself if I sharpie'd this laptop screen.

we don't want to sleep tonight

online classes are a drag on my existence. my online classmates' posts are a drag on my existence.
my class ring is pretty, even if it accents how large my fingers already are. ♥

school ends quicksmart the week after next. tea tea tea all the time. well... and the act for the first time.

cellophane
mr. cellophane
should have been my name

my new poem is two and a sixteenth pages :D so far. it is not done yet.
have peer editing for j. to do... I was working on my psychology class during the peer editing session. s;dlfjgslgjk ONLY A FEW MORE ASSIGNMENTS TO GO. I CAN DO THIS. actually... I can do it this weekend, and not have to stay in the library for my online class all morning for the rest of the year (what's left of it, anyway). well. my final exam is already done.

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.

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.