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Saturday, December 30th, 2006
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| Subject: | To relax is luxurious |
| Time: | 3:00 pm. |
| Mood: | Home. |
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( A few goals )
I am happy to be alive, healthy and loved.
What are your plans/goals for New Year's Eve and beyond?
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Saturday, December 16th, 2006
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| Time: | 4:18 pm. |
| Mood: |  mentally mossy. |
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More than ever, I appreciate being
(i.e. working, walking, reading, eating, sleeping, exploring, drawing, singing)
alone.
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Tuesday, December 5th, 2006
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| Subject: | Portrait of the young dog as an artist |
| Time: | 10:28 pm. |
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Without changing something.. soon.. I think I'll have been the same variety of lonely idiot for two years.
I can't talk to people I find fascinating, and when I get to know more about people with terrible, interesting characteristics they're all wrong for me on every other side.
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Tuesday, November 21st, 2006
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My Massacre Day Feast is going to be familial and delicious, celebrated at the side of a lake.
How bout yours?
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Saturday, November 11th, 2006
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| Subject: | Vodka + orange juice should be called a "mariposa" |
| Time: | 4:19 am. |
| Mood: |  TIG tanned. |
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I'm never going to be caught up enough to 'figure it all out.' No matter how hard I try to dig my heels into each day. I've got to accept that these supposedly significant blocks of 24 hours are just stills in a badly edited and still growing home movie. I love being young, or at least appreciate that, despite all these awful interludes and doubts, I'm healthy and attractive, surrounded with excitement and potential. Hopefully the idea that physical youth and beauty are the only two irreplacable gifts in life will fade.
I'm feeling too many things in each day. Sober, this would still be mentionable, but being self-medicated it sparks alarm and disappointment.
First Friday night that Sketch and I (while in the same state) haven't spent together in months. I've got a crush on a boy with a bass and bike-covered hands and a head full of acid and no interest in me... but I've got a key to that sexiest of spaces: the Yellow Bike workshop. Wish me luck... whatever you think is appropriate.
The Be Good Tanyas treat me well in any weather.
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Monday, October 30th, 2006
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| Time: | 2:37 pm. |
| Mood: |  Chomsky and the chainbreakers. |
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Do you ever have trouble remembering that what you're trying to juggle right now is valuable to your life in ways that don't pertain to deadlines and satisfactory performance? Jobs and tests, homework and taxes. Reevaluating stressors in terms of personal importance as well as logistical necessity or priority is like fucking with the lights on - for some reason it feels a little awkward, not like they do it in the movies, but you can't deny that it's easier.
In other news:
-I've got 99 problems and a bitch ain't one they're all my bikes. I miss my bike and bike muscles more than anything else from this summer. Maybe.
-I survived Hampshire Halloween again. This time by getting buzzed before 7pm and then quitting for the night in order to hold the hair of a dangerously drunk stranger for hours - crouching between a urinal and a broken stall, defending the space from 6ft. tall pissed off boozy men yelling in my face about shutting the fuck up and trying to take their dicks out of their pants. I was aided by an equally (but legally) rude "sexy cow" [Mo], a superhero [Erin], and Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle [Hannah]. I love our EMTs.
On Saturday night I made up for my frustrating/healthy choices by drinking all of Sean's gin, dancing, and rediscovering that there are a few gorgeous interesting people out there who can believe that I'm attractive. Mmm. Double majors, septum rings and women's hips.
FIONA! Did you know that Morgaine (with the long red braid) goes to HC too? I didn't.
Why does every story about an international event covered by the US news somehow involve its "impact on America"?
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Saturday, October 14th, 2006
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| Subject: | Low groans of nights spent alone |
| Time: | 9:46 am. |
| Mood: | autoconspiritorial. |
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Well, not really alone.
Dear Sketchy,
Thursday night I drank a wee bit of the gin and spent from 9:30-1am in the YB space with Wills, chatting and working on our own bikes. Seriously? I like the guy _seriously_. He's not the surfer burnout he plays himself off to be/seems in public; although he did tell me (my) asexuality was a product of not getting laid enough - a typical guy response.
Yesterday I spent all morning learning TIG from my hot TA (as opposed to my beautiful TA who sends me excellent cheater notes) which I'm not terrible at, got the YB key for Wills and snapped my ID clean in half, practiced TIG from 1 to 3:30, went to get my drug hookup from health svcs, read about torture for the rest of the afternoon, bike-stalked Wills to get the key back ("If his white bike is here and assembled, and his blue bike is over there... he must be at Saga?"), missing him but finding out about a presentation from the Beehive Collective [http://www.beehivecollective.org/] at Smith that he was going to - I raced to the bus stop to try to catch the same bus but saw him speeding down to our mod, I caught up and got the key and met him with Ada and Andreas and Clay, and later Katie and Micah where we had to wait an HOUR in the freezing cold for the next bus - which was supposed to arrive at HC after the thing started. So Clay and Andreas backed out to drink and listen to a Tragedy cd on repeat, and the rest of us had a fucking AMAZING time...
...listening to an art-based presentation on economic injustice, deforestation, biopiracy and biodiversity, cultural colonialism, illicit non-warfare, corporatization of C & S American exploitation, etc etc ETC... alllllll within (little did I know at the begining) the scope of the Plan Pueblo Panama: my NUMBER ONE anger sparker coming home from Guatemala which I had heard nothing about since.
After their presentation there was a semi-related screening of radical queer stuff- 3 upsettingly violent shorts and a fucking fantastic feature. Dear me. Dumpster drag queens and an anti-wedding present of TNT wrapped in pink velvet. A fabulously dressed gay sabotage of a gay marriage. Water balloons. And of course the sardinepacked Smith audience was so damn hott I almost passed out from the rubber necking and sweat loss.
It was a night of meshing issues, most of which I've been needing to see recognized in order to feel okay even having my queer, anti-capital, anti-globalization, artistic, pro-community side.
On the way back we met up with Alex and (I don't remember her name - she's skinny and many-patched with GIGANTIC eyes and is friends with the B3 queer guy and the girl with dark hair who always wears sunglasses - but I want to call her Aletha), who had been to both. We split up, I went with Alex and Bike Punk Girl to the next stop where I ended up talking to a physically disabled guy named Chris who had a lot to say about the desperation of our era, disabilities services, "fairness", separation of people with special needs being like any other kind of segregation, the foster care system/government and the family, alienation, flattery, being a genuine person, the importance of human connection, and how I should drop by Dunkin' Doughnuts and Starbucks and say hi.
Bike Punk Girl didn't have much to say, but I like the way Alex approaches a lot of the issues we heard about, and that she knows of and appreciates the FUCKED UP stories about the Japanese band Gism - the lead singer frequently jumps offstage to beat audience members unconscious with chains and has stabbed a fan in the head for wearing a bootlegged patch at least once.
I think I was belligerant and incoherent while talking with them about veganism and ALF type issues and Alex's Div III, but I don't know for sure and I'm just making myself feel bad about a perfectly interesting and fun interaction.
Once we got home I made myself hot chocolate and read Greek comedy in bed.
I dreamed about milling machines and macaroni and cheese.
Hope you're having at least a salvageable time. We'll have fun soon yelling about manifestos and grains, flags, metaphor, and artists taking over the world.
Te amo.
k
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Saturday, September 23rd, 2006
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| Subject: | Mixed nuts, warm cups |
| Time: | 12:36 pm. |
| Mood: |  gloaty. | | Music: | Naked As We Came. |
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Back at Hampshire is an acceptable place to be. I'm cooking and reading, working on bikes even in my non-free time. I'm happily living the same reclusive lifestyle that I developed in Seattle and shipped out here, but this year a weekly load of veggies, many fruitful dumpsters, and a working kitchen of my own take care of the social obligations previously bound to the act of eating.
There are trees at your back at all times, eight.5 bikes living outside, four people (supposedly) living inside, pillows and tools, essays on social dynamics and cultural dominance, sparkly lights, wet shoes and QBP catalogs in every room. I wonder frequently about whether I'm living a subculture.
I'm trying to do myself justice this year. I'm trying to DO instead of ACT this year. Thinking instead of wishing. Hopefully learning.
Right now I don't miss Seattle much, but sometimes the people who grow there.
Fiona - come drink tea and talk about growing things
Brandon - I still don't believe this is going to happen. Snap decisions are hot.
Elizabeth - hope you're well and well-behaved. Send me a mailing address.
Anyone else - talk to me, it would be nice to know how you're doing.
I do miss non-bicycle creativity.
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| Time: | 11:34 am. |
| Mood: |  this city won't play with me. | | Music: | Madeline Peyroux - Between the Bars. |
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Four months of news belittled:
+With time and Sketchy's tough love I recovered from Otis and discovered Brooklyn
+Emerald City stole me back from the colder coast
+If it don't roll I don't want none
and
+I've burned every art-crust/cuntwave friend and bridge
so, understandably,
+I have no contact with people and parts of the city that were my life for the last few years, making this summer bland and lonesome. This still hurts.
+The first bike I could call my own (Nina Roja) appeared,
+Biked my way to health!
+Broke celibacy
+Then regretted it
+Had reconstructive tea and doughnuts with Trina
+Finally made some nice bike obsessed acquaintances!
+Sketchy visited!
+Got a job assembling bikes!
+Decided not to go straight back to college,
+So Seattle's got me for the next few months.
And when I woke up I was here, marooned on my bike without music, writing or counterculture, or the guts to do anything but forget it all and ride.
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Sunday, February 26th, 2006
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| Time: | 12:15 pm. |
| Mood: | Just say YES to real people. |
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New developments involve bikes, boys from San Fransisco, children attacked with ski poles, and sleeping alone for the first time in months.
Slightly overdramatic notes to self:
-Lindsay is the best person to happen to me in a very long time.
-The Bike is still a stranger: proceed with caution and hope.
-I don't think I'd like to lose my best friend over some adorable geek who cares about things that we both do and knows people I miss, just because he showed up and rebuilt hubs on the floor with me while I was floored drunk.
What the fuck ever. I'm probably happier than when you knew me and I hope you are too.
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Monday, February 13th, 2006
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| Time: | 8:49 am. |
| Music: | the hot balding neighbor's experimental noisemaking. |
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First snow since my birthday. Peanut butter and stolen (real) bread for every breakfast, nerves and absurd twin-ism at every other meal. Sticky and secretive moments in vegtarian restaurants, feeling covert and poor but warmed by pasta with gorgonzola and butternut squash, dried tomatoes and fresh mozzarella and garlic. For the time being I'm wearing a nocturnal boy's flannel and feeling cocky about it, sitting on my blood sister's honey and hair covered floor.
There's hope, I guess. I found teachers who can teach me, advisors who want to advise me. Rebuilding stolen antique bikes in the dorm lounge and getting my homework done on time - doesn't it seem like maybe things are growing up a little?
But.
Where's the fat-positive group, happy angry feminist bike/karate collective, student-run all organic locally produced food cooperative (just got that one), time to keep blacksmithing, where are the crimethink-free radical thinkers?
Oh well. Know anywhere in Brooklyn I should try to go?
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Friday, February 3rd, 2006
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| Time: | 5:51 pm. |
| Mood: | Nice!. | | Music: | Fog+Trees=(you-me)/drug of choice. |
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So.
Things suck or they're amazing. People are good for you or bad for you. You're a thrill or you're a bore, snore, lock the door, don't tell her where or we'll have to hear more... Care about the environment, shake off that dredlock hippy shit, care about institutionalized racism, don't question your beliefs, know you're probably a product, lose your bank statements, drive your car to town, turn down a couple more shots, you are nothing but your own "progressive" wet dream, give me a hand holding up this stencil of a bear in a trashcan with a speech bubble with a heart in it. Wait... if I add a "?" will it be better? Go back to Utah, and Connecticut, and Vermont. Better yet, go somewhere you'd actually live WITH black people, brown people, poor people, different people. Not just live looking out and down at them. Upwardly mobile, capitalist commie-chic cock-sucking peers. Of mine. Hm.
So,
living is happening, denial is reviving, monogamy is enthralling, society is lying when they say to thine own self be true is enough. I don't know what will happen to this expensive stuff. Education. I want to keep blacksmithing and move out.
I don't want to talk to you.
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Tuesday, December 27th, 2005
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| Subject: | Locke's blocks |
| Time: | 8:50 pm. |
| Music: | Jolie Holland - Tiny Idyll. |
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( personal ramble )
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Tuesday, December 13th, 2005
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Thursday, December 8th, 2005
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Tuesday, December 6th, 2005
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| Subject: | This is what irresponsibility on speed looks like: |
| Time: | 1:09 pm. |
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I'm coming home soon. And staging a protest.
With a boycott of snow and the celebrating of TRASHxMAS 2005! waging peaceful hatred against this season will be open to the public and quite the brolic thing to do.
And, seriously, would you PLEASE give me your street addresses?
If you're bona fyde paranoid send it in an email. Otherwise there can be no nogg for you.
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Sunday, December 4th, 2005
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| Subject: | Vocal point versions of rap songs break my heart into |
| Time: | 4:28 pm. |
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I lost every west coast street address I had.
Please give me yours, especially if you haven't before.
+++
It's been snowing just for the hell of it today, so I'm listening to the Pixies, Morphine, Badly Drawn Boy and Anne Peebles, and contradicting previous violent car rides and convictions - I swear it's circumstantial - starting to understand why someone might like the Pixies.
I'm so much happier when I'm vibrating. It usually means sleep won't be an option and (though, other than food and [emotional] space to make my own noise and color in, that's all I want these days) I'm still fine with that at the time. Snow, on the other hand, I'm not so fine with.
Lindsay Payne Kerby and I were going to photograph the cognocenti milling about at a gallery opening last night but were too late and had to take pictures of each other in the wives' tale night air. She just called me to say that she was orbiting and lost (had been for embarassing hours) in a snow covered shortcut in the forest just so that I wouldn't worry when she doesn't show up in a few hours. In a hot tub over a river over Thanksgiving break my hair froze solid.
===
I'm so avoidant it's probably already funny. Like the rest of my bullshit
it's nothing personal, and anyway only two people notice/care.
Papa was a rolling stone. He's starting a publishing company to put out my mom's next book and is starting to live for himself. Mama listens to my mix tapes in the car and laughs more.
Love,
Kinky Meditacion, Puffy Bloodstone, Sketchy Bodega and Ace [with or without the Thunderthighs]
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Tuesday, November 29th, 2005
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| Time: | 7:22 pm. |
| Music: | Leo Kottke, who is verifiably better than you.. |
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The sciences of reading, time, and the U.S. Postal Service are big and hard to run from. Actually, I might mean to understand.
I don't really know why I'm here. Does the universe want me to be "normal"?
These alternative kids are a few seasons behind the counter-culture times.
Raving is not a form of protest. Your witty buttons aren't. Drinking 40s doesn't make you different. Like.. um, at all.
P.S. It is conceivable and appropriate that I'll fail this year of college, but so far no one knows if it's possible.
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Sunday, November 20th, 2005
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| Subject: | Listen to Ozomatli and grow up to five inches overnite! |
| Time: | 7:26 pm. |
| Mood: |  with Ozomatli youre ghetto fab. | | Music: | Listening to Ozomatli makes your hair long and silky smooth. |
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The band is Ozomatli. The song is "Coming War". The reason is Ozomatli.
The sound is beat and back breaking. The point is "Coming War".
The motivation is Ozomatli. The place is anywhere beaten or breaking. The time is now Ozomatli.
You'll thank me.
Peace,
Ozomatli
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Friday, November 4th, 2005
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| Time: | 1:13 am. |
| Mood: | sickened. |
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I just heard that Chris killed himself.
Apparently it's been a while, but I still don't know when, or how. I don't even know if it was Bleachy Chris or my oldschool Chris. If you know anything about it please, PLEASE share.
I just heard about Josie too.
Shit.
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_lick_my_star_'s journal
totaly crushed fucked+pathetic.