Thursday, December 28, 2006


5 day marathons with 20 hours sleep, total.
fettuchine alla crema di scampi, chocolate raspberry truffle, the italian, asian kitchen, and sunroom.
chicago, with green shoes, and busses.
crazy, stress-induced explosions of wrestling madness, and being thrown about.
half-assed papers, and apathy.
naps on couches, involving dreams about missing babies, blocked stairwells, and yelling.
qdoba with cath, and the "but i want a STRAW" incident.
drunk (thanks, bradley).
drunk tour II.
the attic, and the drawer full of fire alarms.
fixing my doorknob, tipsy.
almost falling out the window, and the last sounds of the lake.
seeing 7 am from the otherside.
chopping garlic, drinking catabwa juice, and dreaming of international gun-running.
leinenkugel's apple cider.
the wife! the triangle! perfect christmas-going away-valentine's-st. patty's-birthday presents.
tirades on conundrums, paradoxical problems, and boys.
seeing randoms, shopping wildly, and step up. mmm.

these are a few of my favorite things.

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

say goodnight and go

he starts to say
i feel like -
- we're caught in a cage, she finishes.
they were always good at finishing.
he smiles.

yea, he says.

non-favorite things:
male-chavinists and misogynism
7 hours sleep in 72 hours
16 page papers
being afraid of the dark
saying goodbye

favorite things:
imogen heap in the kitchen
drinking fat squirrel while dancing
making bread
cute TA's

1) thoughts are made of water and water always finds a way.
2) if you can't dodge the water, run.

Why d'ya have to be so cute? | It's impossible to ignore you | Must you make me laugh so much | It's bad enough we get along so well

Friday, December 15, 2006

all of this

how many birds have died in cages, thinking the ceiling was the sky?

use me c’mon and use me

da da da da dum da da dum da da dum dum
da da da da dum dum

and all again I wait for this to fill the hole, to shake the sky in two

wait...there is a light...there is a fire

illuminated attic.
Fate? or something better? i could care less,
just stay with me a while

da da da da dum da da dum da da dum dum
da da da da dum dum

a cloud hangs over this city by the sea

please do persist, boy its time we met and made a mess.

he would splash paint across the great back of that invisible elephant, beg her to watch as the color dripped down its sides,
as it was elucidated.

he would try to bring it up, saying
that he was sorry, that even though he couldn't explain why
all he could do was love her.
and she would sigh, sad.
she would move as if to walk away, and he would rise, she would push her hands against his chest, holding her palms steady for a moment,
pressing down hard.
don't, she would say.
the slow jangle of a banjo, the first chords, would drift from the stereo, 'for the widows' following her footprints through the sand as she disappears behind the shelf, climbing steady down the rock face toward the ocean.
that was how he would find her, an hour before sunrise.
illuminated by the reflection of the moon off the rough pacific surf, she would stand, there in the steaming wake of a beached whale.
its grey skin drying, sending
evaporating into thin air.
she would bend, hold her body to his massive side, and rise slowly as he inhaled.
he would ask if she could forgive him, and she would say
look how quiet he is.
he was lost, and panicked; somehow,
he found himself too far along to turn back,
and now he's dying.
we could push,
maybe call the coastguard, he says.
and she would say
but look how quiet he is.

…and people are always runnin around giving their forever away…

i gave me away

i could have knocked off the evening
but i lonelily loomed him into my bone

i feel like -
- we're caught in a cage, she finishes.
they were always good at finishing.
he smiles.
yea, he says.

da da da da dum da da dum da da dum dum da da da da dum dum

Sunday, December 10, 2006

the denial twist

if you think that a kiss is all in the lips | c'mon | you got it all wrong, man

peach riesling + cloves + race rants. j. newsom! at the union, in the great hall, for free. the threat of a hipster riot. accordians, banjos, bass drums, glockenspiels, and musical saws. oh, and the harp. oblivious celebrity sightings in bathrooms. moon conversations and back-route wanderings with 99 stabbers. bruised palms. sleeping in when i really shouldn't be, feeling guilty about it, and then falling asleep again. signing leases [meaning: i have somewhere to live next year.] accidentally calling my lovelies, and not realizing it. winding up to wind it way down, and being terrified to say goodbye.

and there was a booming above you | that night, black airplanes flew over the sea | and they were lowing and shifting like | beached whales

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

i like a man who grins when he fights

three stories i loved when i was ten:
1) harriet the spy
2) a wind in the door
3) from the mixed-up files of mrs. basil e. frankweiler

who doesn't want to run away and live in the metropolitan museum of art? [see the royal tenenbaums for further evidence of the merit of such adventures; margot and richie tenenbaum, at ages similar to claudia and jamie of mrs. basil... ran away to the natural history museum in new york city and slept surrounded by dinosaur skeletons and the taxidermied bodies of mammoths, saber-toothed tigers, and the {famous further thanks to wes anderson} "squid and the whale." man, what i wouldn't give to be a kid in new york city. everyone gets to hide somewhere fascinating!]
who didn't pretend to belong to an elite spy association? i did this while hiding in my bushes with a notebook, invisible-ink pen, and 'tape recorder' (actually a defunct-walkman), recording my every mundane observation about the obnoxiously-boringly-normal neighbors and the wonder-bread delivery man who came every wednesday afternoon. i also hid stores of ordinary stones, maple leaves, and paperbirch sticks in my shed. this was quite obviously for an emergency, in case i had to live there for an extended period of time, such as if i were to be discovered and had to run away. [i had no other choice of location, not living nearby a museum interesting enough to hide within.]
what child didn't want a drove of dragons hanging about in their garden, their mitochondrian/farandolae having mental breakdowns and needing internal adventures, and a black psychic garter snake named louise living in their stone wall? i sure did. also, further evidence of said desires: see the episode(s) of jim henson's muppet babies in which the babies must escape the nursery in order to adventure inside a) skooter and his broken immune system, taking trips into the memory files of his brain and flying around his bloodstream in a submarine, and b) in order to prevent the watermelon seed fozzie swallowed from becoming a sizeable fruit. those two really only refer to the internal adventures aspect, but i did write a paper in a.p. bio about a wind in the door, and ms. kahlstorf wanted me to research further on the existence/importance of farandolae, as scientists at this point in time are aware of only the importance of mitochondrian. ha!

sleeping in the library last night made me feel as if i partially experienced one of the three, even if it were not in a museum, not for an extended period of time, and not actually illegal. i'd still much rather hide out in the Met, much rather have to hide from security guards in toilets and under artifacts, than to sleep in awkwardly shaped armchairs and wake up to the janitors moving the furniture about. but at least i can pretend, right? right.

¿me deseas? necesito saber antes de salir por los bosques, antes de salir por las islas, porque me he vuelto muy loca, y te amo. esta es la verdad. no el tipo de amor que es en las películas, no entre las personas viejas que han casado por muchos años, no el tipo de amor que es profundo en el corazón. esta es un tipo de amor fugaz, y no quiero amarte. pero hago.

favorites: [charlie] and [hard to concentrate] by the red hot chili peppers. greys marathons. [emily] by j. newsom.
tomato-basil-cheese pizza, after consuming nothing but (1) cup coffee in 24 hours. [violent pornography] by system of a down. being cranky. [for the widows...] by s. stevens. dark jeans that make a) my ass look good and b) me look tall + my houndstooth heels. [winter] by j. radin. hot tomales and peanut butter m&m's. [globalization and its discontents as sung by joseph stiglitz] by sean (unknown). having my window open again (even though its -3 degrees outside).

non-favorites: wisconsin winter weather and waiting to waltz my way to ecuador (oh, i am good. look at that alliteration!) the impending doom of finals week. making appointments at the ecuadorian consulate in chicago. trying to sign a lease in the midst of a shitstorm, all by myself. knowing i am going to miss people i don't want to be missing. knowing i am going to miss people i want to be missing. flakes. not sleeping.

i like a man who grins when he fights [ ear to ear. it's the irish in me. ]