get a lot of comfortable, one book at a time

"I'm afraid that pigeons don't know right from wrong to not go out into the street. They don't have the kind of memory as we humans does to know what to do and what shall not do. They must don't know the danger their lives are being jeopardized. They must don't know what can happen in the human knowledge and sense. They land just about anywhere they can find a land on surface.

People are fearful of me, which I wonder if they think I'm so terrible or if they think I'm not human at all. I may be a stranger, but that doesn't make me a created monster or something like that. People aren't human. They act like ignorant dogs with their tail in back of their legs. They don't think whose feelings they hurt at all. They just do it. No consideration for whatsoever. People don't think about my feelings.
They don't give a hoot.
They don't give a crap.
Fear if you never knowing if you ever going to lose your mother is very sad and scary experience you have to learn from and you wonder why she has to die. I love her, and I have loved her once while she was alive, especially if she was the mother that raised you. You only wish that you could do all you can to save her life. There are gonna be worse times and hard times for Michael Bernard Loggins and his brothers and sisters too, especially on Mother's Day.
Afraid this is the last thing that will ever occur to me."

I want somebody here to appreciate NPR and PRI and storytelling and politics and vinyl records with me. There is far too often an idolization of ignorance in high school.

My thoughts have become such that I post in my secret blog more than this one. I have nothing to say to a group, and nothing happening day to day worth documenting.

Take Pictures

I don't take pictures of my friends.
There won't be pictures of me in high school.
I couldn't remember at the right times to get the buddy picture on Thursday.
There is one picture of just me and JoeKat.
There are maybe 5 pictures of Dave and me together at all.
There are only prom pictures of me and Jimmy.
There are no recent pictures of my little brother and I.
There are no pictures of my mom and I together since I "grew up."

Never Dreamed/Always Dreamed

I know that other people have experienced this. (I think.) But where are they, so we can go, "I know! Isn't it the best?! Isn't it all totally worth it?!"

It is more, but not the most.

I wrote John Hodgman a letter to tell him a few things and generally profess adoration. Then I couldn't find a mailing address for him. Then I scanned the letter and be-doodled envelope to send him a picture of the letter via email.

Every time you reached over to change the volume or the heat, it caught my eye.

My copy of Moby Dick has a black whale on the front cover.

All bets are off. I can wait.

I will find words to describe, but it will be too intimate.

Bad Dream

I had my first nightmare in a very, very long time. Friday night, I watched Quarantine with my mom, and it was so-so as a movie, but it was exactly the scary I was predicting. However, that night, I was having a completely ordinary dream, not a single hint of ominous forewarning, when it startled me awake. In the dream, I'd been talking to Joe M., who was standing close enough to fill most of my frame of vision, when over his right shoulder, one of the "infected things" crept towards him. It was probably less than two seconds of that image to shock me awake. The thing that distinguishes this dream from my usual zombie nightmares, is that after I woke up, I couldn't shake the fear. "I know it's not real. I know it's not real." It wasn't working. For minutes I consciously focused on the outline of Fred Flintstone and Peter Griffin. How would I draw them? What makes their cartoon character distinguishable? Images from the movie would interrupt these distraction thoughts to scare me. After I couldn't focus on the animated men, I went over my memories with Dave. I can't remember how much it hurt. I can't remember what being naively in love felt like. I didn't ever cry in front of him. Eventually, I fell back asleep.

songs I listened to recently

Australia
Poison Oak
Lime Tree
Napoleon's Hat
As Time Goes By
Teeth in the Grass
In the Valley
In the Sun
Honey and the Moon
Tangerine
Going to California
Us and Them
Time
I've Just Seen a Face
American Pie
The General
Mr. Tambourine Man
Within You
Vera
I'da Called You Woody, Joe
1930
You Keep the Diner, We're Getting a Divorce
Mr. Larkin
Day n Nite
Hero
She's Got You High
Everlong
No One Knows
Bonfire
All My Days
Wait
Orange Sky
Crinan Wood
The Twist
Modern Leper

Analogy and Tautology

"I won't dare give this hideous imitation a name. That would legitimize it."
"Giving Frankenstein a name wouldn't have made him any less a monster."

"Good! Fucking goddammit! You didn't deserve to see it. It would have been too good for you."

When the lightbulb went out, I sat for days, weeping in darkness, lamenting the loss of a good bulb and lack of a new one.

I watched the moon turn into the sun and the bats turn into birds and the transmutation of night to day was over.

production is consumption

and all your brilliance washed over me, blinding

the sun's light has to travel 93 million miles
I could never travel that in lifetimes
and I will not remember this moment of sunlight that has traveled so far for an instant

how many fucks didn't you give?
Zero. I gave zero fucks.

and in this mad and rushing collective, resentment

Has it sunk this far? Is it me you don't trust? or yourself? Can you even believe this? Can you even fucking believe it. Pussy.

I'm writing, writing, writing letters. It's for my health and not for you.

Call me out, but
please
please
please
call me up sometime

the spiral is exciting
I know I will not die
the plunging rush of failure
is how you start to fly

didn't listen to the song
just thought the plot was good

the night is so cold and the shoes are too small and the dress is too big and the quiet hopefulness growing too fast

pull out that list, baby

FUCK YOUR CONTROLS!
(this was written for somebody else, but I have adopted it)

Chloe likes limes and Lime Tree and where did those girls go?

let's hope somebody just turned off the light
rather than the bulb being burnt out

I do not respect martyrs for their death, but their life.

yes, yes, this smug smile's for you

"I poured my heart out"

Who the hell are you? Definitely not the savior I knew.

One of the reasons I am an atheist, besides my worship of reason, is seeing my mother beaten down by the god she follows so faithfully

You are ugly and so are your heart and your shoes!

[edit: I am going to replace you with pictures of older you, when you looked happy.]

Found/48 [no more, no less]

And so, now that there is no more hand holding, I am going to let go, and there will be nothing to stop me.

Two days ago, I woke up at 5 AM so that Matt's dad could pick me up on our way to Jersey for Duel on the Delaware. Because of my early attendence, my assigned volunteer position was that of parking staff. I wore a nifty orange jacket and sat on a chair and nearly fell asleep. Sometime around 8, I was dismissed, and left to my own wandering devices. There was lots of food with sugar in it. Therefore, I ate lots of sugary foods. After I realized I could go to the pit area and talk with the functioning team, it was much more enjoyable and less absolutely tiring. My job was stake out the competition and take notes. Eventually, I made a friend. After we got eliminated in semi-finals, it was much easier to talk to people, especially as the SAT kids had arrived. Cleaning up was alright, because it kept me busy. The ride home was pleasant. That night, I snuck out. 'twas fun.

Yesterday, Viv invited me to travel with her to Michael's and Target, a lovely ride in Earl, and then a return home where we would commence making rainbow cupcakes. While we were sidetracked by super-gluing her sister's leg shut from an accidentally self-inflicted knife wound, I eventually settled in to watching last week's episode of house and eating cupcake batter from the bowl. Chase took off his shirt, James Earl Jones is talented, and cupcake batter is delicious. The show was playing over Viv's Mac (go PC), on her counter, so we could both watch. I, leaning over the counter in a pulled up chair, watched Viv organize bowls and dye and utensils. It made me feel like a little kid.

Today, Matt, Gary, Kate, Hannah, and I went to Linvilla Orchards to try and get class-worthy photographs for Matt. Unfortunately, Linvilla is not the place for artistic or scenic photography, but still the family-friendly stomping grounds of my childhood. Besides it crawling with small children, I had a splendid afternoon. Everyone went on the hayride, tried "cider doughnuts," looked at chickens and fancy pidgeons. Afterwards, Matt and I went to Clayton Park so he could finish up his roll of film. We hopped a chain link fence. Behind the fence were rusty construction vehicles with plants growing over them. Photogenic! Band was chilly. I make up words to America. It feels subtly hostile to be there and there's really no reason for me to stick out the season. But, I still kick butt and it would be pointless to switch out now, even if I want to go to the football games as a spectator.

The Twilight Zone

"Martin, I only wanted to tell you that this is a wonderful time of life for you. Don't let any of it go by without enjoying it. There won't be any more merry-go-rounds, no more cotton candy, no more band concerts. I only wanted to tell you that this is a wonderful time for you. Now. Here. That's all. That's all I wanted to tell you. God help me. That's all I wanted to tell you.

Martin, age thirty-six, vice-president in charge of media. Successful in most things but not in the one effort that all men try at some time in their lives - trying to go home again. And also like all men perhaps there'll be an occasion, maybe a summer night sometime, when he'll look up from what he's doing and listen to the distant music of a calliope, and hear the voices and the laughter of the people and the places of his past. And perhaps across his mind there'll flit a little errant wish, that a man might not have to become old, never outgrow the parks and the merry-go-rounds of his youth. And he'll smile then too because he'll know it is just an errant wish, some wisp of memory not too important really, some laughing ghosts that cross a man's mind, that are a part of the Twilight Zone."

This is how I want to write; these are the ideas I want to write about. It's not about the past, not any past I long for, but the innocence. The Twilight Zone is my favorite television show, for this episode, for others, the writing, the memories- the New Year's Eves of childhood watching a marathon on Sci-Fi. I want to share beautiful, meaningful things, and this show is one of them.

7/21!

Birthday shout out. ~<:D

Strange Things Are Happening to Me, Ain't No Doubt About It

Things have been so very strange emotionally. Friday night back at band, I felt like to be alive was powerful.

I invited someone to see my secret blog, the third person to ever see any of the blog, let alone all of it. We talked about it, about the universal nature of heartbreak, regret, hope, defeated resignation, because sometimes, even if it hurts, there's nothing you can do about it. We spoke about the freedom of summer, the things we missed, how we could've done it better and still have everything.

I'm looking for flattering associations, something that will make me feel sexy and playful and casually cool. This year, I have become something more than I used to be. It's startling, to be a sought after personality, somebody people might actually want to talk to. I waxing poetic on how my brother got all the cool in our family, and I got the academic smarts. Kim very warmly chided me, saying that she thought I was cool. I meant "the Fonz" cool, "wearing aviators because you think they are a legitimate fashion statement" cool, leather jackets and cigarettes. It was still a pleasant notion.

I'm listening to Alexi Murdoch right now, my adventure music, my peaceful music, my "this feels like the first warm afternoons of summer" music. I wouldn't change anything, but this is the first time I have dealt with regret for any length of time, however extremely short it's been.

tell me everything
i want to know everything about everything

I got kicked out of band last night because I don't have the class
and I had dressed like an emo
because it was picture day
and nobody recognized me
Wasiq didn't want to sit with me
but then laughed a lot
when he realized it was me
and nobody said hi to me in the halls
because they didn't know it was me
and that it was okay to say hi
because it's a tough decision
who to say hi to

and I was dressed like an emo
when D told me I couldn't be in band anymore
and he told me it wasn't his decision
and I wanted to scream BULLSHIT
and cry
and run away
but I asked whose decision it was
and he said the guidance counselor and principal
which is a lie
but we'll take it to a higher fight
so I walked away
and I cried a little bit
and the kids on the drumline bus wondered what had happened
and Mike and Rose texted me all night
and Mike cried during saints
when there was no one to yell with
and he teared up during the songs
when nobody was dancing
and I went to the game anyway
dressed like an emo
and nobody knew me
and I teared up when I heard saints
and I teared up when Mike texted me
and Rose texted me
and it wasn't the same
and then I visited them during third quarter
and Mike hugged me for a long time
because he was my freshman buddy

after I got home
I texted Jeff
and I told him that I couldn't be in band anymore and that I went down on Fava on Wednesday and that I talked to Jimmy and it was awkward and that I missed talking to him (Jeff)
and he said
"I've been feeling generally unhappy and uninterested in life. Sorry to hear about band. miss you too"
and I thought maybe he was joking
because it was emo day
so I took a picture of me dressed like an emo
captioned
"that hurt"
and he didn't respond for a minute
and then ten minutes
and I wondered maybe he wasn't joking
and I cried
because all he said was "sorry about band"
the activity that I'd been in since my freshman year
meant so much to me
introduced me to him
and to Viv
and pancakes
and pit parties
and my whole life
was that band
and he said "sorry to hear about band"
and I cried

Matt and I haven't been good friends for a while
I haven't had a class with him for two years
our senior class picture was Wednesday
and afterwards we had all the "friend" pictures
and I didn't belong in any of them
there is no group I belong with
I had people to stand with
and I got in a few photos
but I didn't belong there
it made me feel very, very alone
Matt dressed like Waldo
because it was a senior prank we came up with when we were still BFFs
and Kingsboro made him take his hat off

I got on the "WOW" fridge of the annoying new art teacher for color and 2D and we all talk about how they basically replaced Las with young and annoying Las
she called my house
to tell my parents I was doing an outstanding job
and my dad wasn't hoe
*home
and she didn't call again or leave a message

my sweater smells like smoke
because we had a bonfire pit party last Saturday
and Mike and Rose and Mason S. came
and it was an awesome party
really splendid and fun and a great kick off
and then afterwards
it was Matt, Stasi, Katie R., and Nick K.
and the last two were dating
and awful
and about to end their relationship
(they did today)
and Katie was annoying and overconfident in her abilities and Nick doesn't belong and kept talking and Stasi listend and responded and Matt and I stared at the fire
and Stasi, being perceptive, noticed, and asked us
and Matt said we were the last kids truly in the pit
and I wanted him to say it
because I had kept thinking it
how he is Jeff
and I am Viv without cooking and a little bit Jeff
and how things haven't been the same


and I looked at all of Jeff's old pictures today
from that party
at the D.'s
when it snowed like ice
and we ran outside
and played bear in the east
and sledded to katie r.'s
when she was still fun
and tore up her yard
and almost fell into the ravine
and I loved Matt then
and he didn't love Kacey yet
and JoeKat loved Gina
and she loved him too
and we were all friends
and Trisha was still invited to parties and part of our school
sometimes, I think she is really lonely too

thank you for being my confessional

always.

Found Out Today

Today was, if all efforts fail,
the last day I had the right to call myself a GV band kid.
Thanks for the adventure.

Today was, if all efforts fail,
the day I began planning.
Thanks for giving me something else to do on Wednesdays.

Today was, if all efforts succeed,
the first day of many football games.
Thanks for the freedom.

We Will No on Saturday

My dad compared the level of my brother's science class to:
"dissecting insects with a hammer."

Yesterday, we had the interesting free write prompt in English,
"What makes someone popular?"

"ps- if you ever change your mind, you are always welcome back."
-text

I went back to the land of my last childhood "best friend" summer.

My dad saw me crying, keeping my head up,
and decided to fight my battle for me.

Bring on the eye liner, Dan G.'s pants, and Abby's music.
Tomorrow is picture day.

Jumping to Conclusions

I hate you.

I hate your incompetence, your ignorance, your selfish jealousy.

I hate your attitude.

I hate what you have done to my life, the things you don't realize.

I hate that you didn't consider the consequences.

I hate how you hurt me, because I let myself care.

she sings/and sang/now you

We are all such accidents. We do not make up history and culture. We simply appear, not by our own choice. We make what we can of our condition with the means available. We must accept the mixture as we find it — the impurity of it, the tragedy of it, the hope of it.
-Saul Bellows




I have now have Concert Band, BDF, 1st period, 2nd semester, complemented by Strength and Conditioning with Mrs. Knox. I'm excited to see Mrs. Knox again, but I might skip every day of band, take the F and the Saturdays.

'Missed you guys! :D The "welcome back" hugs were phenomenal. Simply showing up has never felt more like "suck it. suck it. just... suck it." *insert Godzilla roar and arm flail*

I have Physics with Gary and Dan S. I'm delighted and displeased.

Not learning in art, but still learning oodles in other classes, though the work is catching up with me as the courses really start.

Robotics Animation is AWESOME! I'm learning there too. :]

Kira and I went to the car show. It was cold. There were cars. Also, best group project ever with many inside jokes. Our table in English is by far the most diverse/best group.

p.s. I was 99% right about my previous prediction, but she said no (internally, I threw up my hands filled with confetti and wore a party hat).

Stream of Consciousness: Overwhelmed

oh and i'm shaking and weeping not for the past in sadness but truth and beauty and fragility and that my future will repeat the past and is doomed to repeat and I love you and him so much and there's so much and I can't hold on the desk isn't solid and breathing out making everything tighter and it's so full and so loud and so quiet and the light is flashing and tears are blurring and everything is beautiful and nothing hurt and I wanted them to leave before you did and it's slipping and everything's slipping but into something cool and calm and I enjoy the ride and the loss and the shaking and somber and I didn't turn on the light and I've cried so much on this desk and there's soot on my face and my hair and my clothes and always in my hair and Jimmy can smell it and I wonder if they wonder and it was so perfect and content and this is what it should be and we are the last and it's not coming out right and I can't force it out and it's all building up and silent and terrible and so much shaking and god, it was so beautiful it made me cry and overwhelming and I cannot touch him and I cannot touch him and I will not touch him and he will not see me and I am scared to see him and I'm scared for his life and I'm scared for letting them down and seeing them hurt. So much love and truth and beauty. It's not enough, this isn't helping. I cannot be Viv. I cannot give them so much happiness. They're speaking through me because they shaped me because I didn't have a choice, but I did and I love who I am I love who I am I love who I am you are in opposition to everything we stand for. You are ugliness and lies and stupidity and fuck fuck fuck fuck so much anger for your everything and for making fun of him and not standing up for him, but I wouldn't associate myself with him, he's weird. Augh. Please please please let me let me let me get what I want Viv is Summer and I love summer and I am alive in the summer and I made him alive and I weep and breathe and cry and take in the air and there are tears and I exhale. So much love, it's overwhelming. So much time and memory. I felt beautiful today and I'm going extinct.

"My Little Brother"

He's taller than me and has been for a long time now. The center in a cult of personality, he's magnetic, a clever kid who passes gracefully through the hoops of social circles. As his sister, I am utterly possessed by the notion, "He is the good kid. He is the smart one. He does not succumb to peer pressure; he is the peer pressure, hopefully not for devious intent." Despite his academic performance, he's not dumb. In no aspect is he stupid, though sometimes he plays the part. Like any human, he changes depending on who is surrounded by. The tone of voice, his words, they change instantly when our conversation is interrupted by a phone call. Youth nurtures his casual and indestructible persona, complemented by negligence and an infallibility complex. I worry. Over and over and over, I repeat that my fear is to see him die an untimely death. Tonight, he told me he is going to fight another kid. I don't worry about this fight. He has honor and general opinion on his side. We stood talking, him casually framed in silhouetted by the darkened laundry room, wearing boxers and jeans. I had never noticed that he is quite literally "jacked." The weight set in his room is not for show. The nightly crunches are not mythical. He is much older than I remember him, so much cooler than me.

We are so similar in our potential, so different in the expression of those ambitions.

"La la la, words, la, words"

When I was newly welcomed into this world, my room was the one currently occupied by my brother. I more remember this as a fact, rather than memories of actually staying and sleeping in the room before being relocated to my current residence. However, I do remember that in the corner by the window, there was a rocking chair. It was very rounded, with a wooden frame and arm rests, covered by some thin fabric upholstery. My mom used to sing to us or read us stories as we sat in her lap. In my head, I also remember my dad would sometimes be the provider of stories and lap space, but this may be inaccurate. Either by time casting a warm glow on the past, or by the power of a nightlight, all of these memories recall the lighting as a dim, yellow-orange light. When it was absolutely, last-call time for bed, we would get one reprieve; nobody had to go to bed until the last note of Amazing Grace was finished. This did not manifest itself in a desperate, "slow as possible" rendition, but that the last note was to be held out as long as our little lungs could. Mom always won.

......... ............... .........

On the way to preschool as a toddler, my mother would sing with me in the car. Zip-a-Dee Doo Dah leading into You Are My Sunshine. After my brother was born, she commenced teaching us Hort v Kloop d'Kinderen, a Dutch Christmas song of dubious spelling, to imbibe us with a little bit of cultural heritage. I still remember the words and fondly recited them for Mr. Geating's algebra class upon being caught late once in the holiday season. It is my current recollection that Jack never quite remembered all the lyrics, even in the time we sang it every day.

......... ............... .........

Freshman year, everything was bright with the adoration of naivity. It was the first time I had heard Ben Folds or the Dresden Dolls. I finally learned the words to Hallelujah beyond the chorus. Prior to that year, I sang a little, but hardly ever by myself in public. The sound of my voice, as it remains today, verged slightly upon the adjective "unpleasant." Beyond fear of criticism, I'm not entirely sure why I was reluctant to sing. Singing is such an intimate action, I was surprised and in awe of this group that let boys and girls sing real songs on real buses in real public spaces. We all knew the words by heart, and then opened those hearts to each other when we opened our mouths. It was very much a cult of personality. The year Jeff graduated was the year Viv went to prom and never came home again. The next year, singing was done at the oversight of Jeremy or Schade, "80s" (while rockin', still restrictive). Now, there are two years that don't know the words to Hallelujah or Freshmen, one year reluctant to sing, and one year who can't reclaim the harmonies of the past.

......... ............... .........

This summer, I snuck out with Nick F. We drove around some, walked around some, and talked quite consistently through the early hours of the morning. Nearing 4 AM, it was decided that to avoid the possibility of a night into morning conflict with parents, we should be at our respective homes by 5 AM, so we returned to the car. First, we listened to the psychadelic rock of Vanilla Fudge and Deep Purple, followed by the vocalized instrumental "Regatta de Blanc" by The Police. Parading through unmarked CDs of funk and indie, we stumbled upon the ultimate playlist genre. "Cheese." The first sweet notes brought to our ears on this CD may well have been the opening drum beats from "Never Gonna Give You Up." Delighted and immediately fascinated by this discovery, we eventually struck upon "Amazed" by Lonestar. The mildly twangy crooning sang over sweet and sappy piano was laughable and inappropriate for the moment, and still, we persisted. Growing to the chorus, I hummed the words I did not know and quietly mouthed the ones I did. Nick, fantastic vocalist that he is, started belting. I could not rightfully leave him hanging when it was obvious I knew the words to the chorus. The strangest 4AM sing-along completed, I nearly laughed 'til I cried, or at least until I got home.