|you're disappointed in the way she looks
||[05 Feb 2008|08:45pm]
worth noting: we dressed up for the pats game using support our troops flannel. you can't tell... but i made alex PANTS out of it. this was quite the feat. pats lost, but our spirit prevailed:
[check it out]
|from birth to twilight
||[25 Aug 2007|10:37am]
i'm leaving new york now and i dislike change. senior year is hella stressful. i am washing my sheets.
i changed my hair finally and i'm refreshed [those are VEGAN chicken wings in that picture and i'm going to miss those, too]:
|celebrity sighting in union square in the form of a one-act play
||[25 Jul 2007|04:19pm]
Lights up on Sophie and Vince eating fresh apricots in the incomparable New York sun on a bench in what is presumably Union Square Park, as evidenced by the passing New York Film Academy students casually filming squirrels and by the buzz of the farmers' market nearby. They're both dressed impeccably. To Sophie's left on the next bench is a vile-smelling man with scraggly hair and a khaki fanny pack. On Vince's right is a kindly-looking octogenarian toting a tortoise-shell cane.
SOPHIE: So. Party this weekend?
VINCE: Yeah. It was totally awesome. There were tons of laser-hot supermodels all up ons.
VINCE: What did you do this weekend?
SOPHIE: Sat by the fountain on the Mall in D.C. It was rad.
VINCE: Cool. Come to Philadelphia this weekend.
SOPHE: Alas, alack. I can't.
Enter kindlier-looking fifty-something with Zach Braff in tow. Zach Braff looks totally like Zach Braff, with a gray T-shirt and slacks, with an ugly silver mountain bike and celebrity-like aviator glasses. Nobody at all seems to notice it's Zach Braff. They walk over to the octogenarian (who is actually stage director Tom O'Horgan) on Vince's right.
50-SOMETHING: Tom, this is Zach. Remember I was telling you about Zach? This is Zach.
SOPHIE (under her breath): Is that Zach Braff?
Vince shushes Sophie, elbowing her slightly.
ZACH BRAFF: You have no idea how glad I am to meet you. I am such a tremendous fan of your work. "Jesus Christ Superstar?" That was brilliant. BRILLIANT.
50-SOMETHING: Zach is the man I told you about -- he's buying your loft, remember?
TOM: (to Zach Braff) What's your name again?
ZACH BRAFF: Zach.
The 50-something starts talking about something and Sophie and Vince try to start talking again but they're attention is obviously not with each other.
TOM: What did you say your name was again?
ZACH BRAFF: Zach. Zach Braff. Z-A-C-H.
50-SOMETHING: Zach is a huge fan.
ZACH BRAFF: I'm a huge fan. Growing up I started out listening to musical theatre. We kept your records around the house.
50-SOMETHING: Zach is going to see Les Miserables.
ZACH BRAFF: (putting his aviators on) It was such a pleasure.
Zach Braff exits. He continues to go unnoticed. This is perhaps because he has a beer-belly and a double-chin which they must edit out in all those movies and TV appearances he does.
TOM: (To Vince) what is that you're eating?
VINCE: This? Oh, it's, uh, a mozzarella and spinach thing.
SOPHIE: (unnoticed) From the farmers' market.
TOM: Mozzarella and spinach? Hm.
SOPHIE: (unnoticed) It's from the farmers' market.
TOM: Is it good?
VINCE: Oh, yeah.
TOM: Hm. Were there other kinds?
VINCE: Were there other kinds?
(NOTE: In Vince's version of this scenario, Tom now laughs at a little girl in a sprinkler. But this isn't Vince's version. It is mine). 50-Something reappears.
50-SOMETHING: Let's get something to eat.
50-SOMETHING: We could stay outside, or, or we could go to that place across the street you wanna go to that place across the street?
50-Something helps Tom up. They exit. Into oblivion.
SOPHIE: So. Party? Philadelphia?
VINCE: Yes. A girl ran her fingers through my hair.
|everybody knows it sucks to grow up
||[21 Jul 2007|02:34pm]
this is going to be a long entry, but your name is probably in it, so you could save yourself the time and do a quick [cntrl + f] for yourself if you want.
today i walked down to the mall in d.c. (which, for you n00bs, is the strip of all the national monuments and free museums -- well, most of them, at least), where i decided to go to the national archives (declaration of independence what UP!? bill of rights in da HOUSE!! constitution holla BACK! you get the idea). i am very used to this "go to national museums in washington, d.c. alone" thing, as i did it two years ago during the journalism convention when i was (yes!) alone in washington, d.c. but i tend to get really introspective about the united states and then about humanity and then about the grand swells and realms of time. i do this thing where i look at a hand-written document and i try to picture the way the ink looked when it was wet; then i try to picture the pen; then i try to picture the hand of the person writing with the pen; pan out pan out pan out until you get to the milky way (i think). i thought about how desperate we are to remain unforgotten; to cling to our legacies; etc. i looked for the outlines around eyes in old photographs. i tried to prod around the parts of the stories that weren't being told.
so i was in that mood when i stepped out of the national gallery and headed back -- but first i happened upon one of those huge bicycles that you can put like six people on and everyone has to pedal and one guy steers. and the steering guy was maybe 25, and everyone else on the huge bicycle was probably 11. and then i was struck, very suddenly, with the reality that i was closer in age to the 25-year-old driver of the big bicycle -- who was convincingly egging these kids on by intentionally veering the bike this way and that and making amusing animal noises here and there -- than i was to the kids who shrieking in genuine delight. you'd think this would be obvious, but it wasn't: it was one of those annoying "growing up moments" where all you want to do is crawl in bed with comfort foods and wrap your arms around your mother while watching strawberry shortcake reruns.
i started thinking about the ben folds song "still fighting it," and i realized i hadn't heard it in a while. was it on my ipod shuffle? probably not. i certainly hadn't heard it during my 4-hour bus ride to d.c. last night. i thought about washington, d.c.: i place where i grew up. i wondered if i had ever seen the declaration of independence before today, and it made me sad that i couldn't remember. i turned on my ipod to drown out the overwhelming homesick childhood-sick feeling that was overcoming me and OF COURSE "still fighting it" eerily came on, just like that. during the first chorus i kind of lost it. that knot in my stomach just unwound and this flood of emotion i'd been holding back since i got to new york sort of came pouring out. i know that's dumb and i shouldn't fess up to it via livejournal, but it's necessary for me to add that as part of the build up. i started thinking (again) about growing up, and about how stupid i felt for being on the east coast, and how much i wanted to be home and with my family.
i felt like i was in the second grade. and then i thought about sitting on the deck swing with bonnie calhoun in the third grade, and we both had american girl magazine and i told her that our friendship was a thick rope that would never break. she smiled at me and she had orange gunk all over her teeth and i wondered if i should tell her. and then later that very day we got in a fight about something and she ended up on the floor of my bedroom, staring moodily and the carpet, eventually telling me that she was looking for shapes of the alphabet letters between the knots in the carpeting -- something i'd do later with the branches of winter trees.
i was suddenly overcome with a desperate need to never forget any of that -- or of any of my life. it is very selfish. i just don't want to forget anything about anything i've ever felt in my entire life. i don't know why i don't want to. there are definitely aspects of my life that are worth forgetting. but i don't want to forget any of it. at least now. until they invent some kind of way to teleport through time and revisit those moments in life that stay buried in pockets of the human memory, i don't want to forget. this is not just selfish: it's cliche. and it's one of those times that my mother would simply tell me to drink a shot of brandy and watch bill moyers with her. but my mom isn't here. in fact, i called her cell about forty times this afternoon (if this was a movie, which i was momentarily convinced it was when the ben folds song came on, my mom would have answered on my final try -- perhaps WHILE i was leaving the teary, scattered message on her machine. but it turns out this is not a movie and my mother, perpetually leaving her cell phone on silent, never did answer, and probably won't call me back until a very inopportune time this evening, and i won't call HER back until my bus ride back to new york, and then maybe i'll talk in a hushed tone to her for fifteen minutes about going to the archives and seeing the swallows in the trees outside the national gallery, trying not to disturb the sleeping chinese man next to me).
here are some things i thought about on my multi-mile walk home that i decided i did not want to forget.
the time in alex's basement after we went to value village and he bought the white jumpsuit and i bought the multi-colored men's trousers that i ended up cutting into a mini-skirt that, after my experience following one wear, turned out to be just a little too mini. his bed had one of those old woman-white throw blankets -- the heavy kind with tassles that make a nice whooshing sound if you get good air beneath them. he had teenage mutant ninja turtles under his bed. his mother still had all the christmas things out. i told him i loved him.
the time ben and i went to custer park in the summer, and he had a green slurpee and i was wearing the purple wrap skirt my grandmother bought me in the eighth grade when i was going through my skirt phase (also, by the way, my "very fat" stage). we went on the swings and i got the swing that was closer to the tree branches, so i could touch my toes to them and ben could not. then we sat in the shade and i took photographs and when i stood up to throw my cup away ben told me my ass looked nice in that skirt.
when i was in the sixth grade and joe sackett had a video camera because he wanted to be a director, and since i was his best friend at the time i always got to be the star in his movies. this one was a documentary and i always pretended i didn't know he was filming and i tried to do things that were very dramatic. i think that's what people on "the real world" must feel like all the time.
when we went to chauna cox's house to get the kitten. my mother wanted a girl kitten, but we ended up just getting the one we could catch because they were all running a muck in chauna's farm. we liked the kitten's brown fur, and alexis wanted hot chocolate, and it turned out the kitten WAS a girl after all and my mom did an embarrassing little leap because she was SO HAPPY.
the first time i hung out with laura and she told a story to me about her old friends from home who liked to say "mip" instead of "soup" and how laura felt that was annoying and i thought about how i would have thought that was cool in high school but not i thought it was annoying so i figured i had probably grown up a great deal. i felt embarrassed about the purse i was carrying because instead of having a purse laura had a tote bag and i thought purses were probably out of fashion because laura seemed to me to be the height of fashion. we saw "me and you and everyone we know" at fox tower and really awful man sat next to us and we hated him but we loved that we hated him and we talked loudly and i wanted to kiss laura on the lips more than anything in the entire world.
when eli and i sat on the top of the hill at wilson high school convinced that it was the gravest injustice of all injustices that he should ever have to go home at all. we watched the sunset. i remember, too, the time we went down to the bottom of that hill and i hadn't eaten in a week and eli could lift me up and twirl me around and i thought it was the most wonderful thing i'd felt in my whole life and i told him no one had done that since i was three, because i thought that's what the girl in the movie would say after that moment, and that's because she probably would.
the time ariana rampy and i sat by the walla walla creek and watched the water move under our feet and each ate an entire box of popsicles. the big, calorie-infused ones with the whole chunks of fruit inside.
the night i want to have hated with ian, when we went back to his home town in vancouver and met his uncle the blacksmith. that was the day i was really just a backdrop. ian revisited everything in his past that he didn't want to forget and i just watched the way he'd let go for a few moments and watch the life he left behind. the streets were full of dogwood trees and i loved driving my car in those days. i learned ian was afraid of geese and was secretly disappointed.
sitting with my sister by the coast trying to collect all the dandelions that we could see, thinking that it was some gift from god that there was a kind of flower we'd be allowed to pick no matter where it was growing, thus going against all the rules we'd ever learned in our lives about picking flowers. later at the beach digging shin-deep by the tide for sand crabs to put in buckets. our hearts broke the next day when all the dandelions and all the sandcrabs were dead.
in fifth grade (when i felt superior to all the other fifth graders because i had been in a four/five split the year before and they had not), when we all had to bring in baby pictures of ourselves and then we had to guess whose baby pictures belonged to whom and devon johnstone and i were the only ones in the class who got every single one. and i thought it was unfair that we had to SPLIT the giant mr. goodbar that was the prize, but that the boy who got second got a WHOLE baby ruth all to himself. i kept the wrapper. it's still in my diary.
in seventh grade, jasmine mckenzie bought me a stuffed snoopy dog holding a little heart-shaped whitman sampler. i still have that, too. i thought i'd be able to cash in someday on it because i never opened the chocolate. now i'm pretty sure i just have a rotten box of chocolate.
when kate mead and i walked the east bank esplanade, taking turns asking each other big, scary questions (and little ones too). on her birthday, after we'd drifted apart, ben stevens and i brought her a pie we bought at the grand central bakery and a fresh bouquet of flowers. her aunt's house was always so clean but it always smelled like cigarettes. i liked that a lot.
the time ben malbin and joe sackett and i went sailing in the sailboat by his aunt's boathouse. and later when we all had dinner there and i made a tofu scramble, and ben's aunt had all the spices i needed growing right on the back deck of the bout house and i thought that was SO COOL. she said there were sea otters out there who hopped from deck to deck in the morning. we picked blackberries when the sun rose, and they were bigger than the ones by my house (ben said that was because the dirty exhaust from cars never touched them), and we mashed them up into jam for scones we baked from scratch. we had trouble finding the flour. it was in the cabinet beneath the bookcase.
the afternoon last spring when i sat out by reid campus center with ian pilgrim. i tried not to stare at his fingers. i felt like i was talking too much.
the time when i drove out to brad's house (which was so far away from everything i knew, i felt), and he showed me how his mother had changed his bedroom since he had moved out, and i silently wished my mother wouldn't do that to my room when i moved out. he took me out to an abandoned farm house a short walk from his house. we crawled inside and it seemed like we should have told ghost stories or talked about bones or something, but instead we just discussed the greater reaches of calculus because that's all we knew how to talk about. that and internet phenomena.
when sarah binns used to draw the dresses with crayola skinny markers on sheets of printer paper and when she made her 100th dress she named it the sophia dress and i loved it the best of all (but sarah didn't like it much because she felt she could have done better). we went to her family's beach house that summer and pretended we were in the french revolution, which i wasn't very good at because it involved sarah speaking some of the french she knew and i didn't know any. i still don't know any. we watched "amadeus," which was too intense for me at age ten, and assembled a puzzle of some english king that was 500 pieces. sarah's family kept it together with puzz-glue. i thought that was AWESOME.
the time i met omsi john from the internet with his friends at moonstruck chocolate on 23rd street. omsi john was politically conservative and i liked that a lot for some reason. i thought he was very intelligent. then he moved.
freshman year of college i gave meghan carlson a coin purse shaped like a pair of lips and made of beads. later, she made a print for me in her print-making class all in dark pink ink because she said it looked like me and the picture was of a girl who was kissing and i hung it on my wall in my room in portland and it is still there.
i got dizzy talking about politics to katie on the phone and i realized i loved her. that kind of scared me.
nights when we'd spend the night at church. i looked forward to those so much. i remember once i got sick from something and mysterious taylor bixby stood outside the bathroom listening to me puke and when i came out he rubbed my shoulders. ben and scott and taylor and i always sat on this one couch and we got in trouble for being too exclusive with our couch. i often got in trouble because i insisted on talking about my menstrual cycle during joys and concerns. once we spent the night in the church on groundhog's day and i fell asleep looking at ben's nose and thinking about different vegetables it hypothetically resembled. i developed a huge crush on scott thompson because he was absurdly level-headed.
when i sat with sam martinez in the section lounge of jewett and worked on a puzzle that looked like christmas tree. another time i realized he intimidated me.
emily davis and i made pies the summer before college. once we made two in the kitchen of her house while the sun was shining, and we did a very nice job perfecting the crust. we talked about college. we played scrabble on the lawn and i won and i couldn't believe it because emily davis had always been the smartest person i knew. and she's still way, way up there. i got a tan on my back because i had on a halter top. emily's mom grew rhubarb in the back yard.
i remember going to david thornton's birthday party that summer, too: it was at hooter's. kendra made him a cake that was three stories high. i wished i had made such a cake. there was a hair in the pieces of chicken. i only had fries. awkwardly, david's cousin (or something) was working there that day.
we used to have swing club in the basement of the art building at wilson. i'd bring down my cd player (a huge investment in those days) and we'd all gather and eat cookies and usually avital would have these big white teeth and she'd be smiling and david and i would insist that we loop "just a gigalo" and we were always dancing partners (which was unfair to everyone, but i didn't complain, and that was because i made the decisions, and that was because i was president). i remember jesse harwin and pesha used to come but they'd only watch. once it was my birthday and pesha brought me a box that you'd push a button on and it would say things to you like "let me out of here!"
i want to remember the night mac and i went camping up on the hill by his house and i found the rock i wanted to live on for the rest of my life. and really all the times we spent up there, looking at deer, chasing his dogs... once i think we built a snowman beneath a waterfall.
the first time i spent with grant. i want to remember that. i want to remember how shy i was and how intimidated and how i'd fast-forward through 90 percent of the tracks on my ipod because i didn't want him to think that i was lame enough to listen to the music i listened to, so i basically put all the tilly and the wall songs i had on there on repeat. we ate at the kalga cafe before i knew pad thai was his favorite food, and i ended up ordering the pad thai. we went to anna banannas and we colored a page of this old colonial images coloring book using tiny colored pencils i'd stolen from my sister.
years ago adina lepp and i went to stumptown. it was the first time i'd been there and she was wearing a pink ribbed tank top and the light was shining on her face in stripes. i ordered limonata.
the first time jessica and i went to anna banannas i ordered a limonata, too. we were going to see this play that was written by this man who was teaching us a play-writing course. the play was about a school shooting, and it was really awful. we hated it and we laughed out loud about it. kelly bartholomew was there, and that was the point in my life when i had grown terribly scared of kelly because she was just too cool for words.
jessica should have her own category, and in it would be the color red, butterflies, hiking trips, crying uncontrollably on the floor, eating pico de gallo tortilla chips and kids in the hall.
ben should have his own category and in it would be that back alley behind terwilleger, hundred and hundreds of movies (especially but not limited to "back to the future" and "eternal sunshine of the spotless mind"), return of the monster women metal lunch box, racko and a lot of rain on the roof of a geo prizm.
but no one can have their own category. we must keep moving forward.
i want to remember going to the shutterbug with jordan reynolds. i fell asleep on his shoulder while we were riding on the bus on the way home. i was afraid he'd never want to speak to me again. i didn't know how to tell him that.
the short-lived time i took ceramics, i remember shelby blessing rolling the most perfect clay ball and i wished mine could look like hers. mine was all oblong and cracked already and hers was so perfect i didn't know what to do with it. on a related note, i remember walking through the hall that connects olin to the art building and looking at the prints and thinking shelby's was the most beautiful and shortly contemplating what would happen if i took it. but i didn't.
in the freshman dorm one day erika and ginny stole all these oranges and they drew faces on them with sharpie markers and the names of people in the section and lined them up anonymously in the bathroom and everyone was really confused and excited about it for at least a week. they came clean at the end of the year. i remember that section closing. i wore the gauzy skirt.
hannah. and the days in the park that we walked and the day that i video-taped the huge goose lunging at us, when jenny had written the name of the book from the bible on her stomach -- the one that said that all bodies were beautiful. the day when all the white flowers were falling and we were both a little bit sad. jenny climbed on top of the metal canon and we took so many pictures and there was a lesbian couple was the smallest dog you'd ever seen...
a day freshman year when i was on my way to class and i was dancing to the pixies through ankeny field on my ipod and gordon hansen sent me an e-mail to say he danced to his ipod too.
in high school, vince levy and i stayed so late into the night once that i don't think anyone else was there. i was working on the esplanade (the 'zine i did with lindsay baltus) and i talked about transcendentalism and he said he wanted to start running more and then we started to write each other once every three days. every e-mail i sent to vince i'd title the subject with a line i'd pull from inside the e-mail, and then i wondered if he ever realized that. he dated meaghan nanson later, and we all went to the pusa concert, and i was secretly hoping to see eli there, but instead i met ian and keith and we went for coffee at coffee time which was so cool back then. vince put his arm around meaghan and i watched them jump up and down in unison. anna oxygen opened and i felt like i knew what it was like to be on acid.
then later i went to a party vince invited me to and grant was there and lindsay and i met josh thompson and he was already drunk when we met and he told me he was the man behind the camera. i sat by a huge truck tire and smoked an american spirit. grant and i lost a beer pong. grant drank for both of us.
there was the day i walked to the portland waldorf school wearing huge pink pants and my black sweater with the drum set on it to see eli after school. i met ruby and i'd painted the back of my glasses with ruby-red nail polish in honor of meeting her. really, i was scared because i knew eli was still in love with her (or at least that's what i thought at the time).
and i remember the time that i sat all by myself under all the covers and at the thin-sliced pizza i knew i shouldn't be eating and listened to weird al talking on vh1. and i remember more than that. i am full. i am empty. i am melodramatic. it's okay... we're still friends.
cole. oh. i need to get to cole. another day...
|self-obsessed and sexy all the way
||[19 Jul 2007|02:18pm]
here is an orderly list of things i really want right now a lot:
1. to hug a lot of people who smell nice in different ways. i want to hug most of the people at the nation, most of the people in air conditioned offices around town, most of the cute indie kids in union square and washington square park. the urge is almost suffocating me.
2. for my big toe to stop hurting, even though i brought the pain upon myself when i insistently clipped my nail so super-short that it started bleeding.
3. jelly doughnut with cinnamon sugar on it.
4. some baby animals to play with, mostly including but not limited to: kittens, puppies, ducklings, guinea pigs, desert meer cats.
5. to live in a place made entirely of cork and containing only cork furniture, like the one corey built for topanga on "boy meets world" season 6.
6. for carbohydrates to be "anti-foods," like celery is. you know... so it burns more calories to chew them than you gain digesting them. all carbohydrates. especially jelly doughnuts (see 3).
7. to shake it on out or to twist and shout or possibly both
|she's going to break your heart in two; it's true
||[18 Jul 2007|05:25pm]
sick of thinking politically, i've reverted to reading only adorable-kitten blogs and celebrity gossip sites. this is bad because i have to write an article which has been kind of all-consuming since i began it. i am now burnt out, with eight hours of interview tapes and transcripts. fuck the thing.
saw the shout out louds last night at the luna lounge with grant and we collectively had orgasms because the band is good-looking. hopefully they all have orgies. except for the drummer. who kind of looks like a less hot version of david cross.
|too many maps and not enough signs
||[15 Jul 2007|08:24pm]
all i've been craving for days and days on end is a twix bar. grant says he thinks we could make a vegan one. but i hold that that would take a great deal of work that i'm not willing to put into something that non-vegans can have just by going to the corner-store and shelling out 80 cents.
i have a feeling this entry is going to be long because i have a lot of photos to post. on the other hand, my butt is kind of hurting from sitting for so long. i feel like i should do a dance. have a party. perhaps a dance party. right here; right now.
today i went for a long, long walk in the hot, hot heat (band name not intentional). as i was walking by the housing projects, i found what i thought was probably a good found because it looked a lot like a discarded letter, and those always make the best founds. so i put it in my purse and forgot about it until i got home. then i read it and it kind of broke my heart:
How are you doing? I miss you so much. I hope And pray that I'm home may 3, please tina pray for me I pray for you every night I go to sleep. tina I know I was always hard on you whan you was little And than I stop being hard on you It was because I was not doing the right thing so I felt how can I tell you to do the right thing If I'm not doing the right thing. But now whan I get home I'm going to do the right thing no more selling drugs I'm going to chrurch and going to work hard for my money trust me tina I gave my life to god It's the only way You remember whan me And you use to go to chrurch I mean everything was not perfect we still had problems But we had more peace and more happines In our life. Drugs Is what destroyed the family. look our little sister Is following the same life she thinks the Fastlife Is going to make things Better It just makes things worse trust me. tina go Back to school your young smart And you can start fresh And trust me, life gets better whan you work hard for the things you need. tina please look out for my little girl Kassandra don't leave her In Kathys house please I worry about my little girl like crazy. I love you tina do the right thing you can do It It's time for you to change your life around tina I love you so much
me you I'll talk to you later write Back
God Bless you
i don't know why, but i finished reading that and kind of wanted to go cry. and i wanted to share it with everyone. something about discovering little tiny pieces of peoples' lives. i have, for example, grown freakishly attached to buying other peoples' photographs at thrift stores when i can find them. there's a place across the street where there's a whole suitcase of assorted old photographs and i go through and buy the ones that jump out at me for a dime a piece. now i just have this pile of other peoples' photographs. i wish i could give them back to their original owners... that's kind of what i fantasize about the most.
i remember when ian used to work at target photo and he would keep the photos nobody claimed. once he posted them on the internet. i loved the one of the girl with the butterfly face paint all done up on her cheeks. i guess i understand now why he was so moved by those.
i called katie to read her this found because i thought katie would get it, and of course she totally did. i feel very attached to katie lately. it would suck if she were possessed by a mean dead person.
this picture is of me standing on a chair on the patio of my apartment with a cigarette. my sister and i were trying to capture the pretty skyline behind me but it was harder to do than you might think. anyway. there's a barbecue lid, too.
do you ever have a far-away crush on someone who is single and you think about them a lot and think about how that person probably either 1) is a playa and doesn't really like to be in steady relationships, and only hooks up with hot and trashy blondes or 2) hasn't found anyone beautiful enough for them yet, and then you're facebook stalking them and you see that they've embarked on a serious relationship with someone who is not that cute? and sometimes you can't imagine that their personality could possibly make up for their ugly teeth or fat butt or terrible dye job? that sucks.
i bought a new camera recently, and when i was looking through the pictures from my old one, i realized i'd never uploaded a lot of them onto my computer because my computer had been broken. this was taken on the beach when kim and tim came to visit. THAT TIME WAS GREAT. see foofy!? we took foofy!!!!! wow. i really miss foofy. and kim.
but actually, i'm going to visit kim pretty soon. on july 27. i'm going to go and see her in chicago. have i mentioned that? i'm thrilled about it. i really, really miss chicago. the other day i was washing dishes and suddenly was struck by how much i owe to hannah because if it weren't for hannah, i'd never have gone to chicago, i'd never have applied for this internship, i'd never know what i wanted to do in my life, i'd never be in new york right now doing what i want to do. i guess i should also thank mac, but in a different way, because if it weren't for mac breaking up with me, i'd never have wanted to get far, far away from whitman last year, and i'd never have sought out the chicago program. isn't that funny how little things like that kind of change your life completely? i mean... breaking up with mac wasn't really a little thing. but i remember the day i went to hannah's room and she told me about the chicago program. what if i hadn't gone to her room that day!?!??!?! weird. as. fuck.
i also found on said old camera, this picture of me and helen thomas. who is a famous journalist. some people don't know that. she was wearing ugg boots. unfortunately, whitman president george bridges took this photograph and neglected to show the ugg boots. good thing he's a college president and not a professional photographer. on second thought, maybe his calling wasn't really to academia after all. maybe he should have opted for bow-tie design instead. i hear there's a dearth of those lately.
yesterday i trekked two hours out of my way (by subway and bus) to go to this really great little farmer's market in east new york. it's in a kind of impoverished neighborhood, you see, and so for ten years they've set up this brilliant local foods program. they transformed a vacant lot into the most beautiful farm i've ever seen, and they grow all these beautiful vegetables there. they get twenty inner-city kids from the neighborhood to do this internship program and they all cultivate the land and work so, so hard to make it function... and then on saturday they sell all the fruits and vegetables to people in the neighborhood at a farmer's market. i went there and talked to everyone who was working there, and they were just so inspiring. sixteen-year-old kids who stereotypically you'd expect to see hustling drugs were more articulate and intelligent than anyone i knew when i was that age. and the garden itself was so cool. they had honey bees and a big thing that collected all the rain water from adjacent roofs and a little pond with koi in it and a clay oven that you could cook bread in using just the heat from the sun. the vegetables looked so real and unpolished. a beautiful women with a jamaican accent explained to me how she made her authentic mint iced tea. she crushed springs of different mints between her fingers and told me to smell them. one group had set up a booth where they used all the vegetables and fruits available from the garden and made a huge mixed salad from them and served little cups for free to anyone who was interested. there was fresh juice and there were turtles and story hour. this is the kind of thing that completely restores my faith in humanity. i was near tears when i left. in a good way:
on friday night vince levy had his monster party. that was good. i got drunk on sangria -- some of the sangria was peach-colored and some of it was dark purple. they were afraid to dance on the roof because there was an alarm inside (they'd been told) and if they danced the police would come. something about this reminded me a little of footloose. of course i was struck by the sheer attractiveness and intelligence of the people at the party, the way you always get around another (cooler) person's set of friends. sometimes i wonder if cool people's friendship circles are formed purely around aesthetics. it doesn't sound that far-fetched.
grant took this picture of me at the moma. i didn't like how i looked that day. it was a greasy day.
my sister says that you're not supposed to wash your hair but once a week. she also brushes her hair one hundred times every night to "bring the natural oils in the scalp down to the roots" of her hair. this kind of bums me out. i really like washing my hair. i like the way hair feels when it's really, really clean. i hate it when the "natural oils" from my sweaty forehead get on my bangs and make them look really greasy.
sometimes i really miss my sister. she's a very fast text-messager. she sends the most adorable text messages. i miss going on family vacations with her and suffering together in silence in the tiny hotel rooms while both my parents loudly snored. i miss that alexis used to try to get me drunk all the time. i miss talking about boys. in general.
three years ago or so we went to new york as a family. alexis and i rode on the carousel in central park, just like grant and i did a few weeks ago:
i've been trying lately to sit in the present and not look towards the future, but it's so difficult. it's hard when we are trying so desperately to plan out our post-college lives. i've never felt like i've let my parents down as much as i have recently as it becomes clearer and clearer that i'm not going to graduate school. and grant is actually applying for a new york fellows program so he can teach inner-city kids math and earn his masters in education at the same time. he mentioned on the phone the other day that if he decided to do the program... if he got in and did it... that would be it. there would be no more dreams and his life would be sealed.
that's a little dramatic, i guess, but it's so easy to feel that way, you know?
right now grant is working at sticky fingers bakery:
which is totally weird because you get to see all these people who have kind of taken life by the balls and said, "fuck it. i'm opening a vegan bakery in d.c. and it's going to work out fine." sometimes i wish i could just scrap everything and start over. go out and get a masters in business or go to cooking school or something and start a restaurant in portland. or a movie theatre. or a children's book store.
the other day at the nation it was victor navasky's birthday and we bought him this HUGE CAKE. akiva and i had to go and get the cake from the cake-makers, and the cake-makers was part gourmet-cake place and part children's book store. i totally wanted to have a child. you know? i was fantasizing about raising my child and giving him lots and lots of books, just like my mom did. akiva found an illustrated version of "when i heard the learn'd astronomer" by walt whitman, and i thought that was tremendous. i get this impression when i'm around akiva that he thinks i'm coming on too strong, and he's trying to be polite about it. i have that problem -- that coming on too strong problem. also, akiva is always just a little cleverer than i am. that's frustrating but kind of refreshing, too, you know? no? you don't? i tried to explain this to ben and he kind of understood but not really.
oooh... by the way... has anyone been watching world series of pop culture? and if so: isn't it amazing how pop culture whizes are all really fat?
|charged up like scarface
||[13 Jul 2007|01:55pm]
soo... it seems my current musical mood is decidedly mainstream-hipstery and letter-s-oriented. all i've been listening to all week is the smiths, sonic youth and the streets. slap on a pair of skinny diesel jeans and faux eyelashes and a quirky name like "matilda," and i'm a bonafide williamsburg resident fo' sho'.
being alone is good. i don't know why, but i've been avoiding opening up my paper diary (which i've obsessively written in since the second grade)... maybe for fear of unplugging some kind of cache of pent-up emotions which i've been doing a very good job of keeping at bay. do you ever hit a point when you start doing a really kick-ass job of keeping everything inside? and you're, like, sooooo proud because you're not really letting anything get to you? and every time you're on the verge of tears you tell yourself a joke with a bad pun and make it better?
i'm in one of those places right now. which might sound a little emotionally taxing, or even boring, but it's not. it's just fine. i find it perfectly comfortable.
if i was going to be sad, it would be about people who drift in and out of my life like those fuzzy things that come off of cotton trees in the summer.
i've always been a headphones kind of girl, but the recent destruction of my beloved laptop (and hence prime ipod charger) has made music-listening-while-walking momentarily obsolete in my life. as a result, i've learned to love overhearing tiny pieces of peoples' sentences and trying to piece the rest together. today, for example, i heard a girl say, "thank you with five exclamation points" while she was talking on her cell phone. questions arose. was she beginning a new trend of incorporating puntuation marks in conversation, just as the kids have with their web-speak? or was she quoting a thank you note or e-mail she'd received from a particularly grateful person? or was she ordering a cake, on which she wanted "thank you!!!!!" written? if she was, indeed, trying to incorporate punctuation marks into daily vernacular, i would be excited to hear someone effectively use the tilde. i've been trying to think of a way to make it work, but all i can come up with is reacting to something funny by saying, "el oh el, three exclamation points, the number one, two more exclamation points tilde!" [LOL!!!1!!~], and that just seemed a little awkward to me.
i'm very, very sad about jane magazine. jane was always the magazine i read in the bath. now what will i read in the bath? sometimes, when i wanted to read a magazine in the bath but i had already read jane that month, i'd buy a replacement (like glamour or lucky) but those ones sucked and left me feeling unsatisfied. i kind of like nylon, but it's a little too hipstery for me (i know you didn't think it was possible, what wih this s-s-s phase, but sometimes i listen to decidedly un-hipstery music such as hillary duff or avril lavigne, and i'm not ashamed of that at all).
tonight vince is having a hell of party. i'm nervous to go to this party. i'm scared of parties. there will be one hundred people from penn who i don't know. would that scare you? vince always dresses so fashionably. yesterday he wore pastel yellow shorts. and they looked really great.
on tuesday i am going to see the shout out louds (another s! i'm squeamish), and that will be great, because i actually have not yet gone to a concert in newyorkcity. i know you think that's all kinds of wrong. it is. i've been tired and i haven't had any money. so i haven't done any shopping, either -- shocker. but you know what? i've EATEN a SHIT TON of GOOD FOOD. and that's almost better.
yesterday i did yoga and it was a mind-fuck
|maintain its present policies
||[10 Jul 2007|05:03pm]
i totally want to build the tallest layer cake of all time. i want it to be twelve feet tall and made of layers. OF DIFFERENT KINDS OF CAKE. i would call it "surprise cake." and i'd put a barbie on top. a hot barbie.
|i'm only going to say your name one time
||[06 Jul 2007|01:09pm]
man. i love the fourth of july. i just love it. the problem with the fourth of july is that it never lives up to my fourth of july standards.
i have this really picturesque fantasy of what the fourth of july should be like... it involves me in a lovely gingham dress perched on the hill in the dying heat of the evening with some cute, innocent boy named something like peter eating a picnic with watermelon and apple pie and tofu hot dogs with mustard. and it's warm and dark and there's lots of grass around but not a lot of people, you know, and there are fireworks in the sky and one really magical kiss.
real fourth of july never lives up to it because i'm always in some big metropolitan area where everyone else has the same fantasy and they all end up squished on the same hill watching the fireworks and dropping their hotdogs in the mud.
that's okay too. we watched the fireworks from the east bank river in brooklyn and there were lots of people to make all the right "oohs" and "aahs" and grant was really nice that day. i made a red-white-and-blue vegan cheesecake. does anyone else idealize the concept of red-white-and-blue food on the fourth of july?
i guess i do this with all the holidays. i just have this picture of what they're supposed to look like, as dreamed up by hallmark and co. circa 1953.
we also went to the museum of modern art on the fourth of july which remains my second favorite place in the whole wide world, at least to my knowledge. do you know what i think people unfairly pass by when they go to the moma? the FURNITURE section. you know... like modern furniture and design. sure it might SOUND boring. but then you see the light fixtures that look like huge explosions of silverware and the chairs that work like huge foam books and you're like, "whoa. if only modern artists could be on 'trading spaces' with me. that would be rad."
i am writing an article for the nation. this is very exciting. i don't think i'm allowed to talk about my article. someone came in and spoke to us (i don't think i'm supposed to disclose any names) and put the fear of god into me about writing anything about the nation on my blog. i don't know that this is my blog. actually... this ISN'T my blog. did you know that i had a blog? well i do.
it's about politics
this weekend i am going to washington, d.c. and for the love of god i am going. to. finish. moby. dick.
that book sucks. that book just sucks so much. look, world of literature-types. i read a lot. i enjoy reading. reading is kind of my forte. i read proust. and i LIKED it! i liked it a lot. but i just can't get behind this book. it's about slaughtering whales, for god's sake. and grant told me yesterday (i'm not sure if it's true, but this is what he told me) that there are a mere 10 percent of large sea life today as there was at the turn of the 19th century. do you even understand how many whales and shit had to die to make that possible? that pisses me off. it's like a ton of macho, symbolism-seekers hit the high seas to like conquer the inconquerable great white whale to like fulfill some kind of stupid life mission. it's just such utter bullshit. why couldn't melville have just written his fucking masterpiece about something else? like... rain. rain is symbolic. he totally could have done 1000 pages on that shit. and then i could get behind it.
so maybe you're saying, "sophie, why are you reading this awful piece of literature?" and to that you might expect me to say something along the lines of, "well, i mean, you HAVE to read moby dick SOMETIME, right?" but actually, i don't think that's true. i don't think you ever have to read it. i think moby dick is just one of those works that you could pass up and your life really wouldn't be the worse for it.
no, i have to read this stupid bullshit literature for our stupid bullshit english writtens in january. what the fuck is that about? i'd rather just do a thesis on whatever i wanted. but instead i have to read moby dick and a lot (seriously: A LOT) of other irritating literature that i could have gone without. chaucer, for instance. i really don't need chaucer. i was doing just fine without him.
this is kind of trailing off, isn't it. i guess i haven't really said anything worthwhile. i don't feel very poetic lately, which is too bad because my poetic mood is actually my favorite. when i'm in that mood i tend to like myself a lot more. when i'm in other moods most of my self-directed emotions are spent thinking that i'm fat and trying to find simpler ways to get thinner.
one of them: there's a weight loss patch now. did you know that?
also: did you know that in mauritania women actually gorge themselves with food to become sexy? and not just like, they sit on the couch and eat a ton of cheet-os. they are forced to imbibe fatty milk at young ages, and if they vomit they either have to eat their vomit or they are physically tortured. i just think that's weird. women in mauritania, incidentally, tend to weigh, like, 300 pounds. seriously. like almost all of them.
okay so there's this box of white out (i forgot to mention that i'm sitting at the receptionist's desk today because on receptionist duty) and i totally want to pilfer that shit.
|please don't tell me to do the math
||[02 Jul 2007|12:40pm]
well it's another monday.
i love mondays. in walla walla i liked to get up at five in the morning on mondays and take a long shower and get all dressed up and go to the verve coffeehouse at seven when it opened with a stack of magazines and a cup of black coffee ($1.70), and i'd just sit there and read for two hours.
hilariously, best week ever's blog has written about the top box office hits this weekend and had this to say about "evan almighty":
I’m still waiting for Bush Almighty, the hilarious tale of a US President who thinks Jesus talks directly to him, then subsequently dismantles the entire foundation upon which humanity rests. Oh wait…
not much to report. i missed the rood's housewarming party because i was with my family. not that i'm complaining. the week was wonderful. i was honestly just terribly sad that i missed showing my sister the best pizza she'd ever had, or that we never got mani/pedis. seriously: what is it about mani/pedis that feels so good? i've actually never had a pedicure. but i assume that it feels even better than a manicure, since it's so much more expensive.
we went to an off-off broadway play and i loved it because we went into this tiny building where, like, twelve plays were being performed at once -- all in tiny little theatres with chairs and red wine for sale during intermission. ah ha! thought i, this is the new york i truly want to be a part of. of course, the actors in those plays are probably starving and homeless. there's no way they're making any money doing that. not that it matters.
alexis and i watched street dancers throw themselves in the air and then against the ground. we danced in the streets in the dark afterwards and flipped off ugly men who shouted insults at us.
|playing it again for effect
||[28 Jun 2007|10:12am]
seriously. why does it feel so great to eat? why couldn't it feel this great to go jogging? or to read herman melville? why does nothing trump mindlessly chewing carbohydrates for hours? why?
and to those of you who are going to tell me that, indeed, exercise and literature do feel just as pleasurable as eating, say, a doughnut: you're lying. you just are. i refuse to believe you are telling the truth. you are just trying to make yourself believe that those things are as pleasurable as eating because the result of a workout is a toned body and the result of a good book is fields of knowledge, while the result of a doughnut is cellulite.
i think eating is better than sex. you may think i have not had very good sex in my life, but indeed i have. i have had lots of sex in lots of different ways and i'm relatively certain none of it has ever held a candle to an extra large pizza. deal with it.
i like dancing a lot but there's no one to dance with. my feet lie by my side, lethargic and decidedly unhappy.
|can you at all times wear socks 'cause i'm still scared of feet?
||[25 Jun 2007|12:06pm]
very into hello saferide right now. kind of like four summers ago i had it in for jill sobule. except that hello saferide is swedish so they have higher kitsch value:
(this song accurately describes how i feel about an array of women in life).
on saturday i went to the brooklyn mermaid parade. all i could think about were portlanders who would have gotten off at all the bare-breasted sea creatures. the parade was on coney island, which has a little bit of a freak show feel to it regardless. but this was too much. there were lots of nipples and a couple of accidental vaginas and a huge green penis...
it was kind of spur-of-the-moment for me, actually. i was going to go to harlem to see langston hughes' place; the apollo theatre; duke ellington circle, especially after kim and i watched this documentary last year about this photograph taken on 147th street in harlem (yes, it was truly a 2-hour documentary about a photograph. before they showed it they showed old betty boop clips. the night was spectacular), but i saw a poster for the 25th annual mermaid parade and decided i would be an idiot if i passed it up.
never in my life have i ever been underdressed for anything. really. i'm just not an underdresser. but i figured that i was going to be doing a lot walking in harlem so i was wearing wearing walking clothes among some of the most hideous and beautiful human forms the world has ever seen.
i talked on the phone a lot this weekend; ate a lot of pizza and burritos; watched "seinfeld" on dvd; gave up trying to find my lost copy of "his girl friday" for netflix and sucked it up and paid for it.
on sunday i actually did go to harlem, and it was better than could have been expected. i mean, probably because i get off on black cultural history projects and harlem was chock-full. i felt kind of like i was a white tourist exploiting something sacred that i'd never be able to understand. and that's because i was.
i walked through central park, which is BIG. did you all know that? it's very big. i saw a boy holding a duck in the pond. the duck was his duck. he was trying to let it drink the pond water. the duck was totally into that. i really wanted to touch the duck. but i felt like i probably shouldn't.
i saw thirteen species of bird, including the ever-elusive cardinal.
did you know that birds are dying by the millions because of human selfishness? that frustrates me a great deal. i mean, did the whole passenger pigeon thing teach you NOTHING? don't you MISS the passenger pigeons!? i thought so.
but i'm still so lonely here. i'm not as personable as i'd hoped i would be; maybe that's because everyone emits this kind of east coast arrogance. when i say i'm from oregon people kind of look at me like i'm some kind of novelty. maybe that's not fair and i just haven't been meeting the right people -- but everyone walks so fast and with such mean expressions! all the kids in williamsburg dress impeccably, but it's irritating because they know it. they walk around like they're advertisements for themselves. maybe i do that too and it's just frustrating to not be the center of attention. who knows.
and the other night while i was on the phone with katie the carbon monoxide poison alarm went off and i was relatively certain i was going to die. luckily, it was just some kind of alarm malfunction. but my roommates were gone and i was just so sure that the carbon monoxide was pervading everything around me. i fabricated a headache. i lay on my bed dramatically, awaiting death.
on tuesday my sister will be coming, accompanied as always by my parents. i'm excited to not have to pay for food for six lovely days. we're going to see a broadway play (110 in the shade), too, which is great because i frankly can't really afford to go see broadway plays on my salary at the nation. i like living within my means, though. i like reading the piles of books i've brought. at the rate i'm going, though, i'm going to run out of books before i leave! that would actually be exciting. i'm a really slow reader.
i am reading moby dick. for written examinations.
today i am going to be courier from the nation, which scares me because it involves walking around outside and having to actually *know* your way around.
in the park in harlem, i watched the puffy sparrows chattering in the chain-link fence; a birthday party with white crepe paper and the mother was wearing a cream-colored hat; a four-piece a cappella group singing in the shade with a bottle of whiskey in a paper bag. it was the first time i really felt like i loved new york.
|beyond the boughs and the crows
||[22 Jun 2007|10:24am]
here's the thing: i really, desperately need a camera.
whereas i do not have a camera, this camera-less effort will have to suffice. i'm bubbling over a little bit. just a little tiny bit.
i'm in new york city. right now, specifically, i am on the eighth floor of a fancy office building (the kind with elevators that have little televisions in them) in union square. i am sitting at my very own desk at my very own office computer where i have my very own phone extension (5435). i am at the nation magazine -- my favorite magazine in the world.
for the record, the nation magazine is better than i thought it was. it is, by the way, the oldest weekly publication still in existence in the united states. it was started in 1865 by a group of abolitionists who wanted to track recently freed slaves and simultaneously tell the news of the growing country. since then, the nation has enjoyed writers such as henry james, margaret atwood, james baldwin, george bernard shaw, noam chomsky, emily dickinson, w.e.b. du bois, martin luther king jr., susan faludi, robert frost, langston hughes, molly ivins, sylvia plath, arthur miller, ralph nader, hunter s. thompson, james thurber, kurt vonnegut and w.b. yeats. and a lot more. adolph hitler wrote a letter to the nation once. because he was angry about something.
yesterday, for example, ken burns came into the office (he's the revolutionary documentary-maker who made the movies "civil war," "jazz" and "baseball") to screen chunks of his new movie which won't even screen until september 23 on pbs. i got to watch michael moore's "sicko" two days ago to fact-check a piece that will run next week in the magazine about it.
i kind of feel a little bit like a rockstar.
i love my job. yesterday i didn't even take a lunch and i stayed a whole two hours after my shift was done because i think it's so exciting. now i'm just bragging. bragging feels good. a whole lot better than whining, somehow.
new york in and of itself is big. i should have known that, considering so many of my friends go to new york. ben malbin gave me a list of people to call and hook up with while i am living here, which i haven't done yet, but i probably should because yesterday i started to feel a little bit lonely. at the end of the work day i just don't really have the energy to do anything but eat a burrito and fall asleep reading virginia woolf's journals.
there have been a lot of alex's in my life. here are three noteworthy alex's:
- burson. who, ben says, is dating some really hot girl now, and i think that's true judging by what i can tell from his livejournal pictures (which isn't quite enough for me to be satisfied). alex burson. one of the top five most significant figures of my entire high school career. and i'll leave it at that.
- manning. who dated my sister. and really hurt her a lot. i actually think she's still hurting from that. i hate guys who do that. i hate guys who are heart-breakers -- who don't ever put in 100 percent but allow the girl to put in as much as she wants, only to devastate her without a second thought in the end. FUCK. MEN.
- falcone. who actually prompted this "many-alex's" realization that i had, because i was reading the student listserv and there was something on there about how he and his comedy troupe were going to be doing a show relatively soon in the bay area. i checked out their web site (which i think that alex actually built all by himself, somehow), and it was really professional. like something i would find all by myself and really be interested in, regardless of the fact that alex falcone had built the web site. he might be one of the most talented and simultaneously odd people i know.
alex is a popular name, i guess, but i still have this notion that i maybe magnetize alex's. or soemthing. maybe when i was born an alex chip was put in me and now i find alex's everywhere i go. and not just regular alex's. important alex's. kind of like how laura seems to magnetize ryans and eli seems to magnetize lauras. who magnetizes sophies, i wonder? i'm going to have to find that person.
you know, actually, i was in the nation institute office on my first day and the first person i met was a sophie. she was the kind of sophie ben would really be in love with. she was really little and well-dressed and kind of quirky and erratic. and it was totally bizarre because she was FROM PORTLAND. and I HAD THE SAME DRESS she had. it was like a little fate thing. maybe ben magnetizes sophies. he needs a third sophie to really make me believe it.
i got drunk in new york with vince's friend emerson. oh yeah. i forgot to mention that i was living with vince for a while. that was BOMB. seriously. even though his apartment was tiny and hot, it was just so good to be sitting in his room talking about journalism and lovely ladies and sexy music. the relationship i have with vince is very good. it may be one of my most solid relationships in life. the only other person with whom things have been so solidly solid is maybe ariana rampy. mind you, "solid" is not necessarily the best thing a relationship can be. but it's by far the solidest.
anyway, vince has this "cuh-raaazy" roommate named emerson who just recently came out of the closet and he invited me to go out with him into the city and drink a little bit. now we all know me. i am definitely not one to go out into the city and drink a little bit. definitely not. but i wanted to kind of reinvent myself, you know? i wanted emerson to think i was this really fun, well-dressed metropolitan urban-dweller who was totally into going out into the city and drinking, so i went, and i got drunk. like, really really drunk. and that's because i cannot hold my alcohol because i do not drink hardly at all. and that was actually kind of fun, until i cut my evening short because i had to work the next day, and then i was drunk and alone and i drunk-dialed people. here's the path that took:
- i called GRANT. obviously. but he was asleep. because it was really late, and he, like an intelligent person, had done the right thing and NOT gone out drinking on a tuesday night.
- i called BEN. i don't think i'll divulge what was going on when i called BEN. except for that he wasn't really all that amused and he couldn't really talk.
- i called ARI. and i left her a message in which i told her that she was the only girl i'd ever go gay for. awk.ward.
- i called IAN. and it was his BIRTHDAY! which i knew somewhere in the back of my mind because i had written it in green ink on my palm the night before, but the day had been so busy i hadn't gotten around to calling. well, i called ian and he was in the car with nikki, and he definitely was not drunk yet (although i'm sure that changed later). and i think i told him that i believed he could change the world. actually, i called him again last night (i was much less drunk; read: not at all), and i think i wanted to, like, have a deep conversation, but he was just totally not buying it. failure.
- i called ALEXIS. that's my sister. i asked her to stay on the phone with me until i was sober. at that point i was so SICK of the whole "being drunk" thing. and alexis, being the wonderful woman that she is, stayed on the phone with me.
that's so weird. my sister is a woman. a WOMAN! she's eighteen now! fuck.
it seriously freaks my shit how old we're all getting. it's something that's always in the back of my mind and i just don't really want to put much thought into it because it makes me too upset. i tried to talk to bmal about this while i was in portland. i think we just kind of sympathized with each other, but it didn't solve anything. grant is usually very helpful in terms of discussions about my continuing existential crisis. man. can i just say that if i were not me and i were given the opportunity to date me i would definitely not do it? definitely not. no.
that reminds me of this happy accident that happened yesterday:
i was walking home from my nightly burrito and into my (awesome) apartment building when i happened upon a loud argument between two people that i could hear behind closed doors. i listened for about a half hour and learned about this much:
- the two who were arguing were jim and nicole.
- jim was mad at nicole because she had stayed out 'til seven in the morning doing cocaine at a friend's.
- nicole was mad at jim because he just wouldn't let her be twenty-three and live by her own time schedule.
- jim is thirty.
- nicole was mad at jim because she was coming down from a cocaine binge and she was in a bitchy mood.
- jim was mad at nicole because this was the SEVENTH TIME this has happened in the last TWO MONTHS!
- nicole just needed to be able to spend some time with her friends.
- jim tried to be nice but nicole picked a fight.
- but why couldn't jim just be a little more sympathetic?
- hey. JIM wasn't the one out 'til SEVEN IN THE MORNING and then SLEEPING ALL DAY.
- nicole wanted jim to move out.
- jim doesn't even live there!
- jim was going to leave.
(at this point, jim left the apartment and slammed the door, but he didn't go anywhere. nicole opened the door about twenty seconds later and the argument ensued outside the door.)
- jim was not leaving, said nicole.
- jim wanted to know why not.
- nicole reminded jim that it was POURING RAIN!
- nicole would leave instead.
- jim reminded nicole that this was HER apartment.
and at that point they notice me and i kind of hurriedly left the scene, up six flights of stairs to my own apartment to call grant and tell him how much i loved him and how i had just had a revelation about how healthy our relationship truly was.
nothing like another man's woes to make you feel better about yourself.
i thought "sicko" was very good, by the way. much better than mr. moore's previous two efforts. not that those were bad; this is just a little more non-partisan, so it kind of appeals to the human in you -- not the way-off-in-left-field democrat who enjoys gotcha gimmicks and propaganda-oriented facts.
so. just a reminder: i'm three hours ahead. but you can still always call me. (please?)
|so go before you can't leave from here
||[04 Jun 2007|08:36pm]
i like portland a lot. but now no one else loves it. well, i mean, that's not fair. probably everyone who lives in portland and reads my livejournal regularly also loves portland.
but all of a sudden everyone is leaving and growing up and i don't like it.
for the record, i am taking the whole "growing up" bit terribly. just dreadfully. i am the worst adult i know. all i want to do is watch hannah montana on the disney channel and spend hours doing my make-up. i'm still listening to that brand new song that goes "i'm gonna stay eighteen forever/ so we can stay like this forever/ and we'll never miss a party/ 'cause we keep them going constantly."
incidentally, i am yet to go through that "partying constantly" phase. i guess brand new is probably past that too. grow up, you guys.
and i'm a hypocrite of course because i am leaving portland in a matter of days. what does new york really have that portland could not? does new york have the wilson pool? does it have dollar days at the doug fir lounge? actually, i don't think "dollar days" at the doug fir lounge really exist. regardless.
oh, but speaking of dollar days at the doug fir lounge (?) i went to this gay strip bar the other night called silverado and i saw a lot of penis. is it the same thing as cheating on your boyfriend when you look at lots of penis? i definitely felt guilty. plus this guy outside this other bar called boxxes kept trying to hit on me. which flattered me. but also made me feel a little like a cheap whore.
spending a lot of time with ben malbin and actually that's been marvelous. he has such a good attitude about life. sometimes i wish i could be like all the people i surround myself with. everyone i know is so brave and funny and calm.
i shouldn't have written that thing about the brand new song. that was embarrassing. and also a LIE. i don't even HAVE that song on my computer anymore. i only have hip songs by hip bands that wear COSTUMES when you go to see them in concert. i only have lavender diamond and kick ball and menomena. and that's it. oh i guess i should probably have some of the classics -- i also have the smiths and the clash. no guilty pleasure music. nope. not a shred.
too late now.
for my birthday grant gave me a TYPEWRITER. i like to type with it on pieces of foam and photographs from the bargain bin at the antique store.
i like birds and metaphors about birds. i have been grumpy lately and i take that out on grant. i sit on the phone and attack him like i see loreli do on the gilmore girls. i really wish i didn't watch the gilmore girls at all. that's really a sad thing that i do. that is not a thing i'm proud of in the least. not in the LEAST, livejournal community. poor grant. he just has to put up with it. i'm just jealous that he gets to work in a cute little vegan bakery in washington, d.c. where all the free museums are. i'm just sad to be eating popsicles all by myself. does anyone else love popsicles?
ben does not get home until june 6. mac turns 21 on june 6. i thought about making him a birthday card, but realized that i would only be making it to shout in his face, "YOU FORGOT MY BIRTHDAY THIS YEAR, ASSHOLE. but i remembered. who is a better post-break-up friend?" and that would be dumb because OBVIOUSLY i am the better post-break-up friend. and mac knows that. and he probably gets a sick kind of satisfaction from it, actually. i'm relatively certain that he does.
I HATE EX-BOYFRIENDS WHO SUCK.
now i'm going to see "knocked up" with ben malbin and it is going to be HILARIOUS. i'm going to laugh until i pee. i love laughing until i pee in movie theatres. it's going to be BOMB.
|don't want to die in a car crash.
||[31 May 2007|03:47pm]
i like walking around outside when it's sunny and having a popsicle and having the popsicle MELT on your LEGS. i LIKE that. it actually really gets me off.
|like learning the clarinet
||[15 May 2007|10:19pm]
tonight i got drunk.
i never get drunk. i was all alone, you know, and you know how this goes: i just kind of started hating everyone and everything and i've quit smoking you see, and cutting is sooooo emo these days and everyone in the house had LEFT the house to go drinking margaritas and i thought,
i never drink. all my ex-boyfriends now drink. what's wrong with me?
i have no idea what's wrong with me. i should add that all my ex-boyfriends, with the notable exception of ian (who is an exception in all categories my other exes fit nicely into), did NOT drink while we were dating. in fact, they all said that they would NOT drink even if we were NOT dating. and now all of them drink. so i think there must be something wrong with me.
and the apartment didn't work out. the one for summer. i was excited about that apartment, you know... to live with this beautiful girl and the place was RIGHT next to the nation office.
and grant was stressed out, you know, although i shouldn't say he was stressed out because i never know what i'm supposed to write about him.
actually, everyone is stressed out. and i am not. i am not at all. i didn't think i was. i wrote a paper that was 40 pages long. that felt very long to me. i was very proud of the paper when it was finished. granted, it did have pictures. i like to write papers. not because i'm masochistic, either: but because i like to write papers.
i am very torn about this whole "blog" thing. the other day i was sitting around, checking livejournal and this guy named kyle came up, and kyle sits down and his face goes all pale.
"what? why do you look shocked?"
"oh. no. nothing. you know. nothing. i'm just... i'm just putting pieces together." said kyle.
"what are you putting together?" said i.
"oh. you know."
there was a pause.
kyle was looking uncomfortable.
"oh, you know. you just... you have all those scars on your arms and you have a livejournal. and i always used to say that people who have livejournals are emo assholes who cut themselves. but you're really nice and everything. i don't know. you know."
"no, you're right. privileged kids who think other kids could possibly care about their lives when no one actually does."
"yeah. okay, well i have to go." and kyle left.
now, listen. i have not cut myself in over nine months. this is a big thing. it sounds so stupid. cutting yourself is so stupid. i mean, yes, i feel pain, of course i feel pain, and everyone feels pain, but do i have to draw attention to it like that? can't i just get over it?
i even got a tattoo over my scars. of a bird, as if to say: "i am free of this bad habit. it's over." see?
but here i am updating my livejournal on the day that i got drunk because everything just got too heavy again (how cliche is that?) and i let it break me down.
and i hate being drunk. usually, when i am drunk, i am a lot of fun. i think everything is hilarious and funny. but today i was just screaming and crying and alone and it was pathetic. i guess we middle class white kids get bored easily.
there were a lot of things i wanted to do, people i wanted to call, but of course i didn't do any of that.
ben doesn't update his livejournal anymore. none of my friends from high school, really.
i love making mix cds and i love my vinyl collection. last night i went bowling with this kid named andrew. he looks like this:
and he's just as funny as he looks -- everything that comes out of his mouth is a one-liner. for example, he says things like:
"i have a friend who lives in canada. the other night he went driving and got pulled over because a cop thought he was on weed. turns out he had just been watching too much mr. roger's neighborhood."
or, if you say something like,
"hey alex, i like your hat."
andrew will say:
"i have a tea cozy i wear for a hat. it didn't function as a tea cozy. but it's a lovely hat."
i think you'd really have to be there. i mean, the guy bowls by lying down on the ground and pushing the ball forward. it's really hysterical. he's a really funny person. but you know, you get this sense that he does it because he HAS to -- because he's SUPPOSED to; because someone told him at some point in his life that that was what he had to be: one-liner guy. and so he's nothing else. after that he's just a shell.
but you know, of course he's not. he's got all this shit going on inside him. it's heavily guarded. i wonder what made him decide to be on lock-down.
i've taken a cue from katie presley, and i'm re-reading all my francesca lia block books and my babysitter's club books, too. and i feel so guilty when i'm caught reading. someone will come in and i'll be under the covers in 90-degree weather reading with a flashlight. and they'll say, "hey, what are you reading?" and i'll say, "nothing. porn."
but it's not porn. it's babysitter's club.
here's the reality: i am terrified to go to new york. that's kind of what hit me today. you know, the apartment fell through (and i really, really hate when my plans fall through, which is my major fault in life -- i am ill-equipped for curve-balls) and i just thought to myself, "i do NOT want to go to new york. i do NOT want to work at the nation!"
i mean, i do. it is obviously my dream job. obviously. but it's so unsafe and big and scary and unlike anything i've ever done before. it's like, i'm going out into the world and saying, "i want to be a progressive journalist. what up?" but what if i actually want to be a lifeguard? or a dolphin trainer? or a baker of pastry puffs?
then i was struck with this very awful realization:
i am turning twenty-one in two days.
for the first time in my life i am dreading my birthday! which means that for every year after this, i will dread my birthday. i'm already starting to feel so old. i'm not, of course -- this is the young time; the time when i'm beautiful and leggy and i can still dye my hair dramatic colors and my parents are still alive to take care of me.
but how did this happen so FAST? i was not paying attention. i want to jump in a ball pit. i want to go to chuck e. cheese. and not ironically.
i know what you're thinking, but i LIKE chuck e. cheese. i think their pizza is good and i like skee-ball.
but these days it's gotten so high-tech there, you know? have you been recently? the mole-hitting game has been replaced in favor of, like, digital cactus blasting or some such shit.
actually, digital cactus blasting sounds like fun.
responsibility is terrifying. most of my friends have already figured this out. i don't know why it took me so long. laura figured it out. ben figured it out. katie figured it out. i was living in this stupid, naive world that still revolved around me, as it always will.
that was a convoluted paragraph.
you see, i've quit smoking for two weeks now. i have a great deal of pent-up aggression because of it.
i walked around campus without my glasses on. the frisbee players looked like ballet dancers and a rolled up sock in the field looked like a dead squirrel. i thought i duckling in the pond was only a fallen leaf. that's a metaphor for something, i'm just sure of it.
grant took very good care of me while i was drunk. i'm not familiar with the etiquette in these kinds of situations. are you supposed to buy your care-taker flowers? lunch? dinner? my eyes are burning. i watched "saved!" on dvd, which i used to do every night before i fell asleep freshman year. i used to masturbate slowly late at night, too, hoping danielle couldn't tell. but i think she probably could.
i'm leaving this beautiful little house.
i'm coming back. my hair will be longer. i'm growing out my hair. this is difficult for me. i have these urges to chop it all off in one fell swoop and dye it blonde. but i think i'd have to lose a lot of weight to pull it off.
i had a dream today where last year ian pilgrim and i had sex and i had a baby, but i recycled it. and i didn't tell ian about that for some reason and i wondered why things had been awkward between us this year. but then i suddenly remembered at a menomena concert, which was being held in the avalon in portland; except that the avalon was a huge circa-1923 (post-"waste land" pre-depression) night club with dancing girls and big curtains. it was summer and i didn't have shoes and ian was made out of jelly and i didn't know how to fix it.
there was another dream where mac called and he was on ecstasy. and when i woke up i had to decide whether i was happy or sad it had only been a dream, because on the one hand it was nice that he called, but on the other it was awkward to talk to him while he was on ecstasy.
so basically that's it. i haven't really said anything at all. i'm a verbose, conceited, egocentric college kid.
you'd think i'd have grown out of all that by now. but alas.
||[26 Apr 2007|10:32am]
i have. an ear infection. and it hurts so bad that i'm totally gonna pull a van gogh.
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