| Tao Lin poem |
[13 Sep 2008|09:18pm] |
i will learn how to love a person and then i will teach you and then we will know
by tao lin
seen from a great enough distance i cannot be seen
i feel this as an extremely distinct sensation
of feeling like shit; the effect of small children
is that they use declarative sentences and then look at your face
with an expression that says, 'you will never do enough
for the people you love'; i can feel the universe expanding
and it feels like no one is trying hard enough
the effect of this is an extremely shitty sensation
of being the only person alive; i have been alone for a very long time
it will take an extreme person to make me feel less alone
the effect of being alone for a very long time
is that i have been thinking very hard and learning about existence, mortality,
loneliness, people, society, and love; i am afraid
that i am not learning fast enough; i can feel the universe expanding
and it feels like no one has ever tried hard enough; when i cried in your room
it was the effect of an extremely distinct sensation that 'i am the only person
alive,' 'i have not learned enough,' and 'i can feel the universe expanding
and making things be further apart
and it feels like a declarative sentence
whose message is that we must try harder'
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[07 Sep 2008|12:01pm] |
I feel like, after one perhaps cryptic quotation post, then a drunken post, I should make another normal post. However, I don't really know what's going on in my life, and I have some conflicting feelings and messages running around. So, instead, I will just post about a few non-personal things.
- Californication. Awesome show. Watch it. I even thought the first season's ending was perfect. I strong identify with Hank. Think about that what you will. God, you people are looking at me like I just fingerbanged your cat.
- Graeme Base is coming to Richmond on the 19th. He's the author of one of my favorite children's books, The Eleventh Hour. I get to go see him and get my old kid's book signed!
- There's a film coming out in October called Synedoche, New York with Philip Seymour Hoffman, that I'm excited about. Not to mention that Burn After Reading comes out on the 12th.
-I'm eating matzo ball soup right now, and watching Deadwood. Somehow it works.
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[05 Sep 2008|11:06am] |
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I want this: http://www.pilopilo.com/shop.php. Preferably the red one at the bottom of the page. It would symbolize my marriage to Sleep. I love you Sleep.
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[04 Sep 2008|11:44pm] |
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music |
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Siouxsie & the Banshees - Forever |
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"Be strong, saith my heart; I am a soldier;
I have seen worse sights than this."
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[26 Aug 2008|04:47pm] |
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Why do I want black lip gloss so bad? I was almost ready to pre-order the YSL version for $28. Must stop reading fashion blogs.
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| Neil and I saw this and almost died. |
[24 Aug 2008|02:17am] |
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[23 Aug 2008|02:15am] |
Song by Brigid Pegeen Kelly
Listen: there was a goat's head hanging by ropes in a tree.
All night it hung there and sang. And those who heard it
Felt a hurt in their hearts and thought they were hearing
The song of a night bird. They sat up in their beds, and then
They lay back down again. In the night wind, the goat's head
Swayed back and forth, and from far off it shone faintly
The way the moonlight shone on the train track miles away
Beside which the goat's headless body lay. Some boys
Had hacked its head off. It was harder work than they had imagined.
The goat cried like a man and struggled hard. But they
Finished the job. They hung the bleeding head by the school
And then ran off into the darkness that seems to hide everything.
The head hung in the tree. The body lay by the tracks.
The head called to the body. The body to the head.
They missed each other. The missing grew large between them,
Until it pulled the heart right out of the body, until
The drawn heart flew toward the head, flew as a bird flies
Back to its cage and the familiar perch from which it trills.
Then the heart sang in the head, softly at first and then louder,
Sang long and low until the morning light came up over
The school and over the tree, and then the singing stopped....
The goat had belonged to a small girl. She named
The goat Broken Thorn Sweet Blackberry, named it after
The night's bush of stars, because the goat's silky hair
Was dark as well water, because it had eyes like wild fruit.
The girl lived near a high railroad track. At night
She heard the trains passing, the sweet sound of the train's horn
Pouring softly over her bed, and each morning she woke
To give the bleating goat his pail of warm milk. She sang
Him songs about girls with ropes and cooks in boats.
She brushed him with a stiff brush. She dreamed daily
That he grew bigger, and he did. She thought her dreaming
Made it so. But one night the girl didn't hear the train's horn,
And the next morning she woke to an empty yard. The goat
Was gone. Everything looked strange. It was as if a storm
Had passed through while she slept, wind and stones, rain
Stripping the branches of fruit. She knew that someone
Had stolen the goat and that he had come to harm. She called
To him. All morning and into the afternoon, she called
And called. She walked and walked. In her chest a bad feeling
Like the feeling of the stones gouging the soft undersides
Of her bare feet. Then somebody found the goat's body
By the high tracks, the flies already filling their soft bottles
At the goat's torn neck. Then somebody found the head
Hanging in a tree by the school. They hurried to take
These things away so that the girl would not see them.
They hurried to raise money to buy the girl another goat.
They hurried to find the boys who had done this, to hear
Them say it was a joke, a joke, it was nothing but a joke....
But listen: here is the point. The boys thought to have
Their fun and be done with it. It was harder work than they
Had imagined, this silly sacrifice, but they finished the job,
Whistling as they washed their large hands in the dark.
What they didn't know was that the goat's head was already
Singing behind them in the tree. What they didn't know
Was that the goat's head would go on singing, just for them,
Long after the ropes were down, and that they would learn to listen,
Pail after pail, stroke after patient stroke. They would
Wake in the night thinking they heard the wind in the trees
Or a night bird, but their hearts beating harder. There
Would be a whistle, a hum, a high murmur, and, at last, a song,
The low song a lost boy sings remembering his mother's call.
Not a cruel song, no, no, not cruel at all. This song
Is sweet. It is sweet. The heart dies of this sweetness.
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[22 Aug 2008|07:09pm] |
Over on this thread people are coming up with great ideas for new college classes/ text books students will really want to take/buy. Some of my favorites:
English 499: Senior Seminar: All Interpretations are Equally Valid
FILM 101: Your Screenplay Is Awesome
Early Childhood Education: Lessons from Lolita
Nero's Urban Planning and Managing Civic Communities Guide
English 010: Really Easy Books for Lazy People
We Have No Exams or Papers 100: The Class Where I Tell You That You Are All Special Snowflakes
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[14 Aug 2008|03:40pm] |
As of now I have both played Rock Band (though only using the guitar) and gone into hippie shops (but not all of them).
The local magick/New Age/Asian religion store had this book in the window:
The only Amazon reviewer exclaims "This book actually teaches you how to see the gnomes, and those leprechauns too. I also saw elves."
Seems like a good skill to have, here in the mountains.
The girl across the way is laughing almost as hard as I do when Neil makes the crazy person face.
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[07 Aug 2008|01:49pm] |
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So I'm in Boone. Neil doesn't have internet yet, so I will only intermittently be online. You can actually see the stars here, and the butterflies let you get so close you can see their proboscides moving as they eat.
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[24 Jul 2008|06:32pm] |
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After seeing The Dark Knight (again) with Dustin tonight, I'm off to Boone with Neil for a few days. I hope I like the mountains!
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| Bai Ling |
[24 Jul 2008|02:16pm] |
Bai Ling's blogspot is my new favorite blog: http://ling-bai.blogspot.com/
It's entirely automatic writing.
"But why all the texi are yellow? Because they stand out? Or they are driving to spring break? I think none of the texi driver likes their job, but I think its a cool job, drive through the crazy city or quiet city, watch people say good by 15 times and watch people kiss and get mad and knowing inside of people's games and truth, mostly people don't hide from texi drivers, because they will never see each other again most likely, texi drivers should write books about the secret pass of my pasenger, that would be fun, I remember the texi drivers were always so mad in New York city, but in China they talk to you and trying find out where you from then decide which road to take you, New York too, espicialy when they find out you are not from the city, miss New York, miss the real city, Tokyo paris Beijing Berlin and where elas?
I travel in dreams too, every night, wondering where to tonight?"
Oh Bai. You are crazy, probably too wild and crazy for me to be able to stand being around for more than three minutes at a time. But I love you still.
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| Uneasy Rider - Diane Wakowski |
[30 Jun 2008|01:02am] |
Falling in love with a mustache
is like saying
you can fall in love with
the way a man polishes his shoes
which,
of course,
is one of the things that turns on
my tuned-up engine
those trim buckled boots
(I feel like an advertisement
for men’s fashions
when I think of your ankles)
Yeats was hung up with a girl’s beautiful face
and I find myself
a bad moralist,
a failing aesthetician,
a sad poet,
wanting to touch your arms and feel the muscles
that make a man’s body have so much substance,
that makes a woman
lean and yearn in that direction
that makes her melt/ she is a rainy day
in your presence
the pool of wax under a burning candle
the foam from a waterfall
You are more beautiful than any Harley-Davidson
She is the rain,
waits in it for you,
finds blood spotting her legs
from the long ride.
Diane Wakoski, “Uneasy Rider” from The Motorcycle Betrayal Poems (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1971). Copyright � 1971 by Diane Wakoski.
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[25 Jun 2008|12:12pm] |
"It's a pain being named after G_d. But it was my pain. And my ass."
- Shalom Auslander
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[23 Jun 2008|12:58am] |
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Carrot cake cookies = WIN.
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[13 Jun 2008|10:08pm] |
The Incredible Hulk was eh. My favorite parts were Tim Roth taking off his shirt and showing off his tattoos and Robert Downey Jr.'s tiny scene at the end. And I'm not normally that shallow. It wasn't as bad as the last Hulk (that would have been tough to do) but it was draggy and the actors were not sued used as well as they could have been. I'm waiting for the Avengers movie.
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[10 Jun 2008|12:42pm] |
Okay, now I have the final song from The First Wives Club stuck in my head. Don't laugh; I like that movie!
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[09 Jun 2008|09:50pm] |
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Don't read "The Pillowman," Duras's The Lover, and watch Sex, Lies and Videotape all on the same day. It's a lot of human nature and mind fuckery for such a short period of time.
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| karaoke night |
[09 Jun 2008|02:22am] |
Christina, Melanie, and I rocked the Rick Astley. Dustin did Roxy Music. And for the last song of the night, there was a group sing-a-long to "Piano Man," with everyone's arms around each other, swaying.
And if that's not awesome, I don't know what is.
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[08 Jun 2008|08:12pm] |
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So... I want to Rick Roll karaoke night. This is the new goal.
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