do you see the difference in the shades?

stolen!

2009-11-02T12:53:05Z

What I am...

Reading:

Watching:

Listening to:

unionsquare @ 2009-10-20T13:35:00

2009-10-20T12:48:45Z

http://www.zazzle.co.uk/robot_shoe_shoes-167833615142756030

http://www.zazzle.co.uk/dinobot_attack_tshirt-235225877875565200

unionsquare @ 2009-10-15T14:16:00

2009-10-15T13:20:09Z

doing one of those bi-monthly "oh my god stop feeling sorry for yourself and let yourself be happy" epiphany things... so it's a good day.

ALSO just got my portfolio back
dun
dun
dunnnnnnnnnn

b2!!!! (the scoring goes a 1-5, b 1-5, c 1-5 etc.) This means i get an MLitt "with Merit"!!!

yay, i'm excited!

ETA:

okay maybe not with merit, i kind of forgot about all the other marks that need to be averaged in. hahaha. well, MAYBE with merit. anyway for the amount of time i spent on my portfolio this is pretty great.

unionsquare @ 2009-10-08T16:27:00

2009-10-08T15:29:27Z

i wanna steal this too. from kashmir1 and holycitygirl.

Post a picture in my comments that you think describes me when you think about what/who I am. No matter how surreal or plain.

Give no written explanation.

Just an image.

embarrassing cyber-crush entry; inevitable.

2009-10-08T15:03:20Z

dream:

before i knew it we were on the phone, i had been sleeping & could barely focus but he talked to me, was sweeter than ever & had a gorgeous accent. he played me a song over the phone and when i sat up on my mattress in a parking lot, he was in the second car from me, i saw the back & side of his head, he was perfect, and i laid back down as quickly as i could so he wouldn't see me. he seemed to look around as if he knew someone had glanced him, but didn't get out of the car before i woke up.

reality:

today on the subway i almost cried as soon as i thought about what it would be like if we ever actually met, thinking he would take one look and be disgusted. thinking that if he ever saw me for real and still called me beautiful i'd burst into tears.

it's not surprising at all that i finally "meet" someone who thinks i'm okay and it will never be completely real or tangible and i will never fully believe it. it's not surprising that i'm getting worked up over some virtually (no pun intended) faceless person that probably does not think about me nearly as much as i think about them. it is not surprising that i'm getting drawn into something i've always condemned. it is not surprising that i am acting like i'm 13 again.

on the other hand, he tells me we fit like legos & tells me he loves that i'm a nerd & he draws me pictures of poo & we watch nature documentaries together & he sends me music & he loves the letters i send him & he tells me i'm unlike anyone else. he makes inappropriate jokes and makes sure i go to bed early enough for work the next morning.

one day, kids. one day i'll be able to put a "clinically" in front of that currently lonely and absurd little "insane" that resides on my name tag.

i need to relax and enjoy this for what it is.

this is totally mortifying, by the way, so let's keep it between us and the interwebs, shall we?

unionsquare @ 2009-10-07T12:05:00

2009-10-07T11:08:41Z

so lately i have been internetting a lot which means i now have an account on

last.fm (http://www.last.fm/user/whoalame)

and

flickr (http://www.flickr.com/photos/25373674@N05/)

so if you guys are on either of those sites

you should be my fuh-riend!

unionsquare @ 2009-09-28T12:26:00

2009-09-28T11:28:55Z

I really want to have a good Halloween costume this year. The last few years I have either neglected to dress up or done it completely lamely and last minute. So this year I want to get a jump on things. I've been thinking about it for the last week or so, and today after talking to my Dutch friend, he reminded me of what I should have known this whole time.

I'm going to be Anne Frankenstein.

Too bad I no longer have the Salval dress & shoes that I used to dress up as Anne Frank (yeah that's right I've done it before) at Arthur's dead celebrity party. I will do some thrift shop searching and this could be totally epic if I work it out.

unionsquare @ 2009-09-22T20:58:00

2009-09-22T20:35:16Z

"your problem is the same as mine - difficult to transmit the living juice from gut to outside speech, almost impossible. and not to pat our broken backs, but I think that's the way the good guys fail." -buk to blazek

I don't want
to be lumped in
with "women",
these sucking,
suckling cunts
with no desire but to
reshape a man into
a pleasurable thing
he fits into her pussy
perfect
buys her accessories
& kitchen appliances.
I am not one of them;
I am nothing, no one,
a man under
the tits & tears

"Do you think I'd paint if I'd nothing better to express than this rotten self? If my self was made of decent material I could relax with it, but self-disgust keeps forcing me out after the truth, the truth, the truth!" gray (in Lanark; Thaw to Mr. Thaw)

It's pushed on us -
this claim to meaning
& this desire for truth.
Santa Claus
for grown-ups.
We know it's not real
yet here I am
up at midnight with a plate of cookies & a glass of milk & the empty sky.

unionsquare @ 2009-09-11T14:55:00

2009-09-11T14:22:45Z

last night went to ASIA STYLE with cimei, robin & brad, had an amazing Mongolian pancake (as always) and crispy beef (also as always). We then went to The Black Sparrow, where we'd walked past several times going to Chinaski's but never actually entered. It was all leather booths & impressive whisky & good volume judgment. Robin & Brad gave me a gift (weed! haha awww.) and eventually Sara showed up, having brought me a chocolate muffin & a birthday candle for midnight.

came home, had a whisky & a blunt with shannon, nick, and cimei where shannon was finishing up the carrot cake she made me (nom i can't wait), and the cherry cobbler she baked (which we already tried. bangin.) Today she's making an angel food cake. We will have lots of cake.

Ummm work was fine though I was pretty tired, came home and napped.

my Dutch pen pal that I wrote to/talk to online pretty regularly sent me a birthday present. what!? he told me yesterday and I was quite surprised to hear it.

So I get a big box in the mail today and it turns out to be this "Become a Laird/Lady" thing - equivalent to those things where you buy a star - except when you get it you own a square foot of the Scottish Highlands (and apparently then meet the technical requirements to be a "Laird" or "Lady"). There was a card explaining that even though it's not a tattoo I can always have a part of Scotland with me. Ummm, cute?? So sweet! As a nerd & a sucker for well-placed cheesiness, I am thoroughly impressed; especially considering there was absolutely no need to send me anything.

now I'm cleaning my room before cleaning the bathroom & heading to the co-op for necessary party items/alcohol/ingredients for the zucchini bread i'm going to make for shannon.

also it has been sunny all day! (except i just looked out the window when i typed that and it is decidedly not sunny.)

this was probably quite boring. it's mah birfday, i don't care!

<3

unionsquare @ 2009-09-08T02:46:00

2009-09-08T01:53:01Z

spent the last of my money on

Elbow - The Seldom Seen Kid

and

Olafur Arnalds - Found Songs

these two songs remind me so much of Jonathan. the whole album is gorgeous, these make me think about him so much:

A friend of mine grows his very own brambles
they twist all around him till he cant' move
beautiful, quivering, chivalrous shambles
what is my friend trying to prove?

The booze turns a tall gentle boy to a terrible totem
And the kids gather round trying to see what's inside
I think when he's drinking he's drowning some riot.
What is my friend trying to hide?

Cause it's breaking my heart, it's breaking my heart.
And it's breaking my heart to pour like the rain.
Brother of mine don't run with those fuckers.
When will my friend start singing again?

and

Before leaving get to the bar
No one round here makes you pay
Never very good at goodbyes
So (gentle shoulder charge)
Love you mate

Love you mate

Salford skyline blue
Always you
Could fly round any corner
But until you do
Love you mate

unbelievable.

so pretty.

here are links to both of these songs performed live with the bbc concert orchestra

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y_kk9WZ2zLw

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eruQmLGHFUg&feature=related

ETA: is he CRYING at the end of "friend of ours"?!??!!? JESUS. ME TOO, GUY. ME, TOO. That song kiiind of just punched me in the gut really, really hard.

unionsquare @ 2009-09-03T16:50:00

2009-09-03T15:52:36Z

WEIRD

so my parents' house, as in the one i grew up in since i was 8 months old, is finally on the market.

http://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/32-Parkview-Dr_Wethersfield_CT_06109_1112236673

LOOK ALL THE ROOMS ARE EMPTY IT IS SO STRANGE.

mom n' pop did a good job fixing everything up. my room is (was?!) the one with reddish walls.

unionsquare @ 2009-09-03T14:54:00

2009-09-03T14:18:51Z

I think I might buy a Kalimba with part of the birthday money I get. They're pretty cheap!

I also want another tattoo. I would like to find a way to have something Glasgow-related integrated with my first Glasgow tattoo, but I'm not sure how it would work. I want the Govan/ River Clyde cranes:

I actually really, really like the first image. Hm.

Anyway... another reason why Glasgow is great:
So I'm at work, on Tuesdays and Thursdays we clean 3 trailers (a canteen trailer, an office trailer, and a toilet trailer) at a construction site. So the guys who work there are all dead nice, and it's only slightly strange for me and Carole (my boss) to be the only women there. She's finishing up mopping the toilets today, and this guy is waiting to go in, so he asks me where I'm from, tells me he's going to New York next week for the first time, etc., the three of us are chatting about whatever. Then he goes to me, totally casual, "so, you get any action?" "huh?" "you know, seen any Scottish boys?" i'm like "uhh nah" and he goes "you know, i read in the paper, and pardon my french, but apparently scotsmen have the biggest cocks in britain." aaaand me and Carole almost pissed ourselves laughing. It wasn't even particularly funny, but the casual nature with which he told two strangers that was fucking great. He wasn't even being creepy at all, just totally friendly. fuckin' love it.

I have successfully started my first pen pal relationship as the recipient received his letter today (and loved it! yay!). Kind of weird to write to someone who I talk to online every day, but I'm really glad I actually got off my ass and brought it to the post office the day after it was written, seeing as usually I have a severe problem ever getting to the post office. The first time I was in Scotland I wrote a postcard to my grandmother then just gave it to her 4 months later at Christmas.

Hmm guess I should background info this: I started talking to this guy online like 2 weeks ago, we "met" playing isketch, HA, he's dutch and fuckin' hilarious. he is trying to finish up his film studies degree, is a really good speller and is amazing if only because he said to me on the second or third day we were talking: "Did I tell you about the SciFi/Horror movie I'm working on? It's called The Diary of Anne Frankenstein." If it had been real life I think it would be true love. Anyway, whatever we will never meet in real life but he's very cool & thinks I am cool, so that is fun. And now we're pen pals! Can't wait to get a letter back from him! I am pretty skeptical about actually "knowing" people through the internet, but I mean Nicole & Darren have been friends for like 8 years now because of some message board, and I met him in real life & he's awesome. I shouldn't be too judgmental.

Really I do want a Kalimba. Like 25 bucks or something! Maybe I'll play my violin today.
OH by the way all of this has been made possible by the letter D for Done With My Masters. Errr... hopefully. Assuming I pass.

Does anyone know anything about external hard drives? What happened is that I plugged mine into Shannon's Mac in order to get music from her, but she had to do something to allow the mac files to work, only now when I plug it back into my PC I can't access anything because it's formatted for the mac or some shit. HELP ME. I want my itunes back so I can make my pen pal a mix cd! ALTHOUGH i have to say, a few youtube playlists have really done me well and I've found some new music that I love quite randomly.

gotta finish downloading the 90 hours of gervais/merchant/pilkington radio show.
can't wait for this first weekend after all my is finished! it will be glorious.

I am going to post on laughedlike.blogspot.com today methinks, i have totally ignored it in the throes of dissertation agony. For our hand-in celebration, mad of us booked the cinema at Gilmorehill and watched Starship Troopers (had never seen. Didn't know it was She's All That with alien bugs. Fucking awesome.) and Spinal Tap (had also never seen. don't judge.) while drinking lots of free wine and having a beer lotto (picking random beer/cider from a bag. you don't lose at that game.) then had a drink at the primary, and back to mine where we watched a 20 minute argument between T and Nick about Blade vs. Batman.

Saw (500) Days of Summer yesterday, and I did enjoy it. Summer was a fucking bitch and I can't believe he let her get away with it (the hand holding on the bench? what a fucking slut, she knew exactly what she was doing to him). And the very end was pretty lame. But overall I was a fan, Joseph Gordon-Levitt is still my hero (well I mean he is my boyfriend...) and the "morning after" scene was fucking brilliant. I think it's funny that there is at least one weird Scottish reference in like 75% of pop culture. Not too shabby for such a wee country.

Okay this has gotten to be a little much. Have a nice day.

unionsquare @ 2009-08-29T13:11:00

2009-08-29T12:14:26Z

portfolio due monday.

will be a frantic weekend, but then IT'S DONE. and i will be DONE WITH MY MASTERS DEGREE. unbelievable.

really only writing to say:

i said something on Rian Johnson's forum about writing a profile on him/a plea to bring The Brothers Bloom to the UK, and he responded. He typed my name and wrote me a quick message. lamwgsnfvdxlvk go gadget fangirl go. i. love. him. AND he wrote my name and he knows Joseph Gordon-Levitt so through the transitive property it's pretty much like Joseph and I are dating.

unionsquare @ 2009-08-15T23:54:00

2009-08-15T22:55:14Z

next time i travel anywhere

i want it to be Scandinavia

unionsquare @ 2009-08-15T16:36:00

2009-08-15T17:16:25Z

In May, I spent a few nights drunk and writing to no one. I'm gonna put most of it up here so I can a) not having to struggle through my penmanship again and b) not lose it. And for procrastination purposes, of course.

There are poems mixed in with rants mixed in with doodles & quotes & other weird things, I'll try to format it as best I can (not that anyone needs to read this)

Turns out it's almost easier to write when you've got an audience in mind, who knew? Finally dark now, seems like it's taken longer than usual. I spend so much time thinking about doing things & not doing them that my day might as well be longer than everyone else's. Or shorter. different.

Drinking makes the time go a bit quicker, but also reminds me of all the shoulds & really shoulds. I'd be lying if I said I didn't care, but it's more a concern born of necessity & lack of outlets.

Waiting now for the booze to kick in, finished letters & envelopes for Ian & Cj, want to smoke but know I'll have nothing to say once I do, or at least no way to say it.

Late Junction is on just now on BBC 3, always good for weird & interesting shit, always shames the West with scathing notes that laugh like they've got mouths.

[I missed the cranes
& black stories,
you've got no say when it
comes to time.
all i've got is the sun out late
the drunken & shouting streets
& lights off
& me inside, pretending each
sip brings me closer to it
(all of it)
at least the radio will follow
through
& i don't need
to provide my own haunting ambience
(i wouldn't know where to get one)
i think i'd like them, the cranes
if they were all still there]

Spent too much time thinking about drinking & am just now (11:20) getting there. No one knows about all of the terrible things I've never seen.

Wish I knew other languages (any/all), American English strikes hard & ugly like a bad meal.

The drink definitely helps, the pen practically moves on its own now. I wouldn't dare speak for Buk, but I get it. get the widening of the hole, the spill is less pressurized and more like it was inside. He had all these complaints & ideas, all these truths & none, how it happened all at once I'm not sure we'll ever know. Don't care, it doesn't matter & I love good poetry but the bad shit really makes me sick. Now I'm hearing a song recorded outside, at a zoo, and I was almost guilted into a common hate, O! O those animals are captive & sad, well they provide scientific info & also joy to lots of people probably & aren't they taken care of? Maybe they'd be dead out in the open. Besides these musicians are paraplegics that's more impressive than our superiority to wild animals. (we are not superior.)

I want to go to every country, to lose all my senses. I want to drop limbs like grocery receipts. Want to feel wires plucked in my head, tearing the fleshy brain until it's mush. Want to pronounce every foreign word in its perfect accent, & also never want to. Want & don't want everything & nothing, hope everyone sees me for who I seem to be, hope I am nothing like that. I don't hope at all. Want less hair, better control, & to travel through time (have done, am doing right now.)

I want to disregard human inventions like time space & meaning. I want to fuck & kill the same people. Never think or write too much about sex, sometimes I wonder if that's normal but don't really 'cause it never comes up in the first place. Could do for some serious physical gratification but won't let myself stoop. If I were a guy or a lesbian I'd find some whore with nice tits, ass not too battered & you wouldn't see me till morning. Instead, follow the prescribed attitude, actions, pretend this virgin flesh doesn't make me sick. Get off alone, wonder if maybe it's better that way, concrete separation between me & them. being different, it should be more difficult. Have met a few guys who liked my tits but they never had decent conversation (can't say I did either.) I write that like the banter matters. It doesn't. It does. I'll try hard and never stop trying but don't think I'll ever lose that feminine anchor, that birth-born self critique & idolizing of men. Don't get me wrong, the dick is a starry & fascinating thing & I'd rather not give it up before I get a chance to really explore it, but to be a man! (I guess then I could explore my own.) To understand the ancient texts, to be a part of the origin, to have always preached & practiced sovereignty!

Should work on finding a penpal, someone I've never seen who can read my words without hearing me speak, I wouldn't be embarrassed by anything. The accordion never sounds strange to me. All I really need is to learn to play the banjo.

I've got all these "I" statements, not enough poignant description, which is probably what lifts most of them to the podium. Well, here you go, a combination of both.

[I'm not too old yet but covered in hair
like a fucking disgusting old man
too much fat
too much yellow
fleshy & forbidden in all the worst ways
can barely see beyond these
heinous tits
& shrouded in anti-lonesome gray
loving too much, never loving
not sure what there is to love or hate
or if there's anything at all
if i can bring myself to worry about any of it
it must be an exceptionally
good or bad day]

forgot there was supposed to be some poignant description in that. Woops. I know how it should go but if not it's not waiting to be unearthed I guess it doesn't belong. The only really beautiful & "heartfelt" poetry I've ever written was (I think) at the time totally contrived & full of LIES that looked pretty on the page & sounded impressive off the tongue. All of that was bullshit & I hope never to pretend like that again.

RIGHT NOW - if that's what we're looking at - I am drunk and battling the hiccups, tireless little fucks. When I think I've written enough to drown a dwarf in its own tears I'll stop, make myself some food & contemplate sleeping vs. continuing to move the pen up & down, like anything legible will come of it.

I often wonder what the reaction would be if I sent any poems off - rejections I'm sure, of course, but what kind? Form letters, handwritten pleas to send in more stuff, these words actually premeditated? Don't they know if you've planned it beforehand you'll get more jail time? So for now sip sip sip, I'm drinking through a straw like some child bum. We'll never be realized the way we realize ourselves, thank god or who/whatever. thank no one. Thanks, human condition, for guilting us all into some bureaucratic religion until we finally gain our senses and cry HOW COULD THEY HAVE DONE THIS TO US?

[we all think your
queer voice
is beautiful
but i don't think you meant
any of the words you sang]

Am feeling currently like I should eat, but not too hungry. I just want to set the earth straight - balance it on the nose of a seal before anyone notices the crookedness of my shoulders.

I've never been plagued by poverty, depression or poetry. This leads me to the idea that nothing I write is genuine or relevant, but I think if held up to it I'd disagree. Because fuck poverty, fuck depression & fuck plagues. It's not 1530 & yannow what? If I want to write about the skin falling from my arms or the itch of my thigh I will.

I think what I think & am everything to me. Guess it doesn't matter if you like it or if she thinks I'm a fucking amateur asshole trying to steal her spotlight, 'cause as far as I'm concerned it's pretty dark & will be for at least a decade. Then again time doesn't exist so it's a good thing no one is listening to me.

Had to bring the page into the kitchen, couldn't even wait to spill thoughts like so much milk. Just as basic though, just as ineffectual as that thin white veil, in a cup, or out of one.

Everything remains static - the people, the places, & even the actions, there's no getting around the absolute routine boredom of every day. I could go skydiving? Fuck you, it's still the same. Out of my hands. Whenever something happens - something absolutely unpredictable - then I'll be excited, believe in everyone else & truly be worthy.

Bit down too hard & could've sworn I'd lost some teeth. Ain't that the way of things.

Every poem I write I think about how if it ever got published my parents wouldn't understand - don't get me wrong they are smart & beautiful people but not too aware of the things that don't matter (my writing being one of those things) & I know at least my mother would be confused, she'd never hide it just call & say "how proud!" & go on not understanding & not needing to. She is perfect.

Still feels like I should be licking gums & I still believe in the infallibility of my father. Doesn't mean I didn't find his weed or hear about him young, a drunk. After that I only admire him more & wonder how he became the dad he did, sober & happy & flying me like a pterodactyl. I'm in the air even now, arms out, giddy smile & no sense of time.

An old relative just died, a great aunt. My grandfather's sister, a woman so joyous you'd think she'd never go & so small you'd think she'd already gone. I never saw her more than a few times a year, but feel affected by her passing as if she were my own personal example of life vs. reality. 84 pounds & a few years older, all I remember when I think of her is a story about when her shop in the North end was stuck up 4 times, once she flipped over the counter to chuck potatoes at their assailant, how scary & fun it must have been. How she never handed over the money but for once when they pointed a gun at her son. I think of my own grandmother, 86 and seemingly eternal, limber & dancing with a number on her back. I think of the lack of loss in my life & my uncles joking that the Kingston men don't live past 60. I think of my 58 year old father and hope I won't weep.

I've still not written with the flourish & imagery I'm so convinced I should, but this is all spewing rather fast & I don't think I should be held to such high standards. Here are the standards I deem applicable to everything I have written/will write:
1. It is legible. at least to me so I can type it sometime if I need to.
2. it is not full of other people's ideas/words
3. it is true in that I meant to write it or wish I hadn't.
4. It proves that I am more than eye rolls & laughter, that I know which side to scrape when the ice will not melt.
5. Everything is spelled as correctly as it can be.

The Oslo Philharmonic is doing a lovely job of someone-or-other on the radio, & tomorrow I will be sober.

-----

I guess it's time to try this out again, though I haven't got much to say just now, I'm exhausted but need to power through until it's a reasonable time to go to bed. If I read some Bukowski letters just now, will that give me ideas or just jealousy? Or make me think I've thought of something when really it's just his? Anyway, on glass #1 of cheap wine, guess we'll see.

Chose the book over the weed, for now, just stopped reading to look out the window - still can't get over the light & notice the clouds are moving fast. When I was little & first noticed them shift blowing I sincerely thought I was watching the earth move beyond still clouds & thought I was the only one. I guess it's really coming now, glass 3 and more than half the bottle left. Reading Buk's letters it's almost like he gets drunker over the years, too, or at least talks about it more, he thinks a lot of the things I think but would probably hate half of what I think too.

Birds getting loud, should've seen the crow I had out here yesterday, right I mean right beside the window, cawing to me like I'd done something wrong or something very right. Right now it's just gulls. They drown out the opera talk on the radio, words & concepts that seem unnecessary when you can just listen to the music & you get it or you don't.

I see, now. Ah, I see there's quite a lot of it bubbling up. Can't find my tweezers, need them. Goddamnit this always happens. Just heard my flatmate's door - she's awake & I guess so is the rest of the world, it's just that I get lazy & in this mood so all I see is my little room, cluttered & plastic as the rest of it, & out my window other people's windows where they never look out, or if they do they glare at me. Maybe they don't like that I spend hours watching sometimes, thinking maybe I'll find someone like me staring & undisturbed by reality.

Well since it was brought up... reality! Ha! Living in some half/one third life on one of millions of planets but here's the punchline, get ready to HA HA HA reality is the 'Western World' (look we've got a word for our planet that implies it is the. only. one.) & what they'd kindly like you to believe & practice if it's not too much of an inconvenience please. The opera's (Athalia) ended & all I want is to hear Verdi's Requiem, oh those notes! I think I dreamed last night of singing them, though when I try I can't even create a similar melody, it's transcended "notes" and become its own entity the way they all should.

Getting to the drink when the writing starts flowing faster than I can keep up is a weird feeling, like remembering a day off that you forgot about.

Had to change the station, there was too much talking. although now it's only talk, but in Gaelic so it really helps to transport me. When you can't understand what they're saying you can pretend they're not saying anything at all. Though I can't deny my itty pleasure at grasping every four words. It's the SOUNDS though, the kaatch and koehl and vahskee that are the closest to confusion I can get.

This isn't going well, lemme drink some more.

When I touch myself (legs, stomach, back) it feels foreign & exciting. I'm not used to feeling there, or being felt.

"Knowledge, Certainty & Truth"... HA! what a joke. "Immigration is not an easy issue" Because we've allowed MEN to lay claim to the land? This planet has been here long since we were & will remain until we destroy it (which may not be long now.) See? Here is all this human BULLSHIT/Western World tripe that we dump on unsuspecting visitors. "HEY YOU GET OUTTA HERE! THIS IS MINE I BOUGHT IT! WANNA SEE THE RECEIPT?" The word imbecile was drafted for a reason.

I'm just hearing now about how a Finnish composer (Sibelius) "inexplicably" moved to his remote house & barely kept contact with society. INEXPLICABLY? The assumption that life among others is the only option makes me sick. "Drinkers, those depressed, they're freaks. Put them away!" I've been too hard on people who've been taken over by depression. I don't understand it, that's for sure, even after being surrounded by it, but I don't understand much of anything so that means nothing. I've screamed GET OVER IT, thought jesus why can't they just lift themselves out? I still think self-pity is only used to get attention from others so I don't approve, but it's not fair for me to put my standards of happiness (or anything else) on other people. Don't get me wrong, I don't think anyone shuld be like anyone else, I just think we only live once (as far as we know) & what the fuck is the point of wasting it? I didn't know Scandinavians believed in god. I thought they were stronger than most, all that cold & snow against their translucent skin.

Maybe we're the weakest. Doubting Thomases, is that it? The reasons for disbelief are the same as those of the believers, just interpreted differently the way in middle school 1/2 the kids would only wear ugly clothes from one store, & then 1/2 would specifically not buy those ugly clothes because they cared just as much about the label, only they felt that way against it.

At 7 wanted to sleep, couldn't stop the heavy draining weight & now I only want to hear this violin & write write write. Maybe read some more Buk & seethe. My bones make the prettiest little firewood crackles.

Just got the hiccups & goddamit if anything drives me prematurely to the grave it'll be those cruel incessant larks, never satisfied or touched, never off with a fanfare.

Looking at what I wrote last time, & though embarrassed when sober (I'm always embarrassed when sober, doesn't matter if there's anything to read) & I don't think I was quite ready for any of this... some input, a glass or 2 & then I'll try again.

Written on my birthday exactly 20 years before I was born: "p.s. my god, it's all so terrible: all our self-importance; we'll all soon be dust, & that's not news. less even than the smell of shit."

Turned off the radio to listen to what I've been hearing for the last two weeks but at least it's weird and somewhat different and knows what it's doing.

Did I say everything I had to say last time? Very possibly. The wine's running out but the time & pages keep going going going with or without my help. You know how the worst of everything have no idea how bad they are (AKA people who allow some tv station to embarrass them for the sake of FAME or because they don't know any better) well Buk (he'd throw up knowing I mentioned him with such casual understanding) knew it. He got all the poems & books & said god, they're bad, not just bad but dead & tired. But he said they all thought they really had it & knew how to do it but they didn't. So how do I know? He's unable to write me like (nothing like) Blazek & tell me one way or the other. What do I get? No output or putting it out to friends who would coo for a piece of my shit on a paper plate (this is not to say anything against them, their only sins are loving me too much & possibly understanding my handwriting.) it gets hard to read at the end, hand not fast enough for mind. Don't know what my brother's learning disability is exactly, but when I was little was told his thoughts just went too fast for his hand. I think he maybe just had bad penmanship (maybe both) but I was always jealous. He had to visualize each letter in his head as he wrote them. My god! Technology seemed to save him but still remains one of my most frustrating enemies.

I feel lonely. But not in the usual way What? The usual way? Maybe it's just sex. After all I know I'm all I need & it's just the WESTERN WORLD making another decision for me when I think I could use a boyfriend. OK, so is it human nature to be lonely or society? Easy answer. 'Caveman wanted cavewoman because what they really wanted was cavebabies or, more likely, cavesons who would grow up to be Ugg Jr. & carry on the family name, the cave name.

WHAT'VE YOU GOT FOR ME?
long brown
shut up
papery & fluid at once
hope, promise for the next 1 1/2 hours
no more wine or beer or ethyl
bad handwriting fucking purple -
purple ink
mix meld glow steam reek & ooze
mmhmm that's about right
to me

Good? Bad? Who Gives A Fuck? Number 3. Poetry is just more litter to sweep when the parade ends & everyone watching realizes ok I've been sitting in the street all day but if anyone asks no I don't have any change & by the way get a job lazy flat faced bum. Don't want it to stop but out of drink. I get 3 sentences into U.K.W. & need to say something else before he does it better & more real. I had this hallucination once. Never talked about it. There were sounds involved (words, I guess) i think but mostly what has stuck with me more than anything (was it the human mind repeating what it knows or - The Truth?) is this visual - & I am not a visual person - a light bulb, hanging from a string in nothing but black vacancy. String gets pulled, light off, but somehow I see the PUFF of white powder/smoke after the light has left. & that's it. The cosmos, the eternal & infinite joke. It was beautiful. I still see it, like it's an art installation, in front of my face & more vivid than any dream.

Gotta get toilet paper tomorrow.

I get so into me & myself that when I go out & talk to others, NORMAL people I feel bad for all the evil thoughts I may have had minutes earlier.

-----

Whale cellos really get to me in a biological sense, the cull grasps me & I won't resist. It's the in-between, the 1/2 tones that barely make the studio edit. It's oceans and nostalgia for something you've never experienced. It's all of it, bumbling & mourning & that's all we've got. Never been taught anything else. There are political parties & ideological factions that stick to "the truth" like it's not a triple x Santa Claus. We'll never escape the garish lording. My own rationalizations are no better, still based in the same trough of human bile.

Whatsa matter
you don't want
into these fishbelly thighs?

Like my chat, like to hear tales from the mainland like anyone else but sometimes I forget about the channel between us. Just heard a beautiful song but the end was laughable... knew it was them! Don't know about people . They act like they know IT but they don't really & even if they did they'd wish it didn't exist. Poor bumming sacks. It's only just past 12, feels like a whole day should've gone by.

A philosophical question: does 'inspiration' mean anything? I mean, if someone's got it - really got it - couldn't they just put down whatever came into their head? (Some do but not the ones who've got it, not most of them) No matter how banal if they really HAD IT i think i'd like to read it. Not to sound like someone with their lips to the stony dead's balls, but Buk didn't write about anything but the postmen outside his window & the women who wore him down. That's nothing special, he just had so much of IT he didn't know what to do. Here I am talking about fakes & then talking about "HAVING IT." What an asshole. I guess really who's to say? Certainly not me. Not even the best of us. I guess you've GOT IT if you're writing down exactly what you're hearing, not manipulating a simple sad thought into some tangled mass of exclusive gibberish that will never induce any genuine response besides a few real loud HA HA's. Hey comedy is a tough game so don't get mad so quick.

All this talk about loving & needing & the connection between the two. I'm still confused & don't necessarily like it. I love plenty of people enough but don't feel I NEED them. That is to say I'd be devestated & broken without them but wouldn't cease to survive. That's not my fault,just nature, biology.

Is my silhouette as strange to others as I think it must be? Yes, stupid, yes of course you're the only one who's adapted to your particular shape. Thinking of someone (anyone) appreciating my borders makes me feel like one of them. THEM? Who do you think you are? And for someone who believes that we're all the same - humans, animals, vegetables, etc. - this is a particularly funny joke. ENOUGH - at least poetry hides the awkward in-betweens (not as lovely as their musical cousins)

POETRY
is not difficult to grasp
some of it floats above
me like the buoy in fresh air
some of it has me gagging
even on an empty stomach
there's bile everywhere

It'll come any minute now like The Orm. I think maybe he meant drunken discovery. I should re-read the books with that in mind.

Made a "piece of art" with red colored pencil & parts of Jack the Ripper's letters, made me a part of it, anyway.

"this fucking thing called Art, Creation, Whatever, sometimes we hang it in just RIGHT - we get it all, the dizzy broads on the phones, the flunky fired from his shithouse job, the guys like me wanting to cry in bed, the cat run over, the empty beer cans, me writing a letter to you & me being 1/2 nuts with old airplanes running through my brain, ah."

I love the way Zappa sings A little green rosetta it literally stills me.

Singing now & sometimes it makes me feel more like a person. I like joining them, feeling like it's normal to be here. THIS SONG (Ready or Not) HAS IT. No matter what, when I hear the beginning i know it's okay, it waits for me.

on that note Arab Strap wraps me up & it's okay if that's totally passe. SERENADE is probably in my top 10 songs ever? Mailed 3 letters today, hope they're all received well. Want to write a letter to the editor of "Quick X-Words," seeing as this is a respectable establishment there is no reason for the EDITOR to use YOU'RE in the wrong context in his SECOND SENTENCE, "I'm you're new editor" (they even left the apostrophe!) "Happiness is such hard work, getting harder every day & it can kill you, but no one wants to be that tacky about it" - The Dismemberment Plan is so much better than anyone believes. & it reminds me of waking up on the bus in Barcelona, BUT this music makes me feel okay about the 21st century.

Is it my fault (anyone's)
that there is very little
worth writing about
or that there is too much?

many perfectly unlovable
people have made themselves
lovable & regretted it, i
guess i'll try to stay
unlovable, fairy tale
fuck.

the obvious stuff is there - easy and
warm - slick like blood
on tile floor
but i don't want it
can't use it
won't bother trying.
too many slipping in it, a
crunching cussing landing,
broken nose and ego.
i don't need that.

poets like to string unrelated
words together & call it
beautiful art. us
reading we coo & fawn & weep
weep weep weep like it's
real.

shit shit shit shit
the beginning, the end
wonderful putrid shit
births, starves, marries, clutches us
splutter splutter
shit shit shit
saves & loves us more
than anything else.
hugs tight & pukes.

nothing's that bad but that means
nothing's too good either & doesn't
that just get you? OR is everything
great & horrible and wouldn't
that be nice OR maybe all
of it at once is true but
i don't think i'd like to know.

fuck people who paint pictures of flowers
fuck love songs & anti-love songs
fuck human interest stories
fuck disabled people who overcome the
odds to make us cry guiltily
fuck sports & idleness fuck you fuck me
fuck charity fundraisers and
every dream anyone ever had.

-----

It's weird to write down the mangled somethings & nothings that go on in my head, I'm not used to physically facing them. Drinking alone seems to be better than drinking in company, for everyone involved. Shouldn't I make a fool of myself or spew ridiculous things only in front of the mirror? Either way I like it, perhaps more than I should.

I like drawing & making art, maybe even love it, but I have trouble with inspiration sometimes and execution always. Can't write yet. It's unbelievable how a few drinks can change so much. I just hope I don't fall victim to those stuttering horrors: the hiccups.

I've got all these papers floating around now it's going to be impossible to sort them out. OKAY SO: after this drink I won't be high at all & I can get my music back & listen & drink & write. Drew a bit, but that only lasts as long as my squinted eyes.

It's poetry week on BBC 3. Who are these poets? Birds? Flowers? Save us, how dare they! And now a poem about a poet writing about birds? I want to be sick. I shouldn't have generalized, I haven't read every florid ode, but jesus it's really just unpleasant.

Gaelic folk songs - much better.

[Shrinking, Warping
3 or 4 beers
& you'll notice
you'll know.
a' deabhadh
& you won't ask again]

iol-chruthachail: taking many forms, 'endlessly resurgent'

Get comfort from foreign syllables & feel alien among Americanisms. So fuck it, then. Remember last time, I mentioned the pressure & the spill - imagine the audacity! One night of not completely wasteful ink & I act like I know something.

we'll leave one poem out of the cut that pretty much summarizes it all anyway

this all looks familiar
i know you're thinking it
& that doesn't bother me
maybe i'm trying to write like him
maybe
animals are plastic or
little polystyrene dolls, barking
gods.
WHO CARES
soon enough (it'll feel like time has
barely passed) i'll die
& my friends will die & you will too
& that's it.

unionsquare @ 2009-08-13T15:18:00

2009-08-13T14:32:59Z

hayyy

what's new, you ask?

well let me tell you.

a) i got a job (!!!) it is not great (i.e. cleaning offices) and it is early early a.m. which means i now wake up at 5 every weekday. BUT i actually really like it. it goes by quickly, the woman i work for/with is quite cool, and i don't have to deal with a lot of people. one of the worst things about working food/retail/customer service (well, besides the customers) is having nothing to do but being forced to look busy. with this, if there's nothing to do it's because everything's done and we move on to the next. aaand i won't lie it's kinda nice being awake in the morning, feeling like it's early afternoon when it's really 930. i usually nap in the afternoons anyway. although now it's 3:22 and i already haven't so i'm just going to suck it up and go to sleep mad early. ANYWAY. no working weekends, done with the work day by like 11 at the absolute latest.

b) my world record procrastination skills are still intact. need to start motivating myself hardcore. possibly by going to the library.

c) exercised (????) yesterday. a.k.a. ran in place in my room just to elevate my heart rate, did 100 jumping jacks, and a few sit ups and push ups, just to get a tiny wee start and hopefully make me do more eventually.

d) just watched Mysterious Skin for the first time. Ohhhhh, joseph g-l, i love you so. i kind of told myself it was uni related because i'm writing a profile on rian johnson, joseph was in Brick, and so on. apparently dissertations don't work the same way as a game of a six degrees of separation. but hey, if you want to hear what i thought about the movie, you could always go to WWW.LAUGHEDLIKE.BLOGSPOT.COM and, i dunno, READ MY BLOG. PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD MY TWO FOLLOWERS ARE MY MOTHER AND BROTHER.

HAVE YOU NO PITY????

e) phew, sorry about that.

f) or am i?

g) ummm. it was absolutely gorgeous out today while i was at work, and as scotland loves to do it got cloudy and lame as soon as i got home and was about to go to the park. nice.

h) my back has been killing me lately. and not softly, and not with his song.

i) can i stop this list on a vowel?

j) didn't think so.

yiiikes. the letters a-j just kicked your collective ass, flist. they kicked it hard.

unionsquare @ 2009-08-02T18:25:00

2009-08-02T17:27:37Z

i'm so done for. on episode 6 of season 1 of true blood.

will probably be caught up with season 2 in a day or two. addicting!

and got a job, finally. not too many hours a week and not great pay, but a job. starting at 6 am. ahahaha this should be interesting.

unionsquare @ 2009-08-01T01:19:00

2009-08-01T00:20:00Z

hey dudes/dudettes

please don't forget about

www.laughedlike.blogspot.com

'cause i haven't!

unionsquare @ 2009-07-23T01:04:00

2009-07-23T00:12:01Z

alice in wonderland teaser trailer is out. i had difficulty finding it but then, my #1 and only gossip site (<33333) had it on there, so if you go to page 2 (as of right now) on wwtdd.com you can see it.

had a scottish/english music party with my flatmate chris tonight. we drank & went down the "list of scottish musicians" on wikipedia then just listened to a bunch of amazing british '80s music. then made homemade chips & cheese and a pizza from the co-op. nom.

OH AND we listened to late junction (the best radio show ever created) in surround sound (a.k.a. we both blast it from our respective rooms then sit in the middle).

bought sweet sunglasses today, a few magazines, a few books, and i'm almost ready to retire. going to start running (??????) soon with shannon & chris, if i'm ready i might even attempt running with them in the Great Scottish Run in early september. who knows.

am applying for a job at mailboxes etc. and i better get it or i'll die. literally.

apparently IN THE LOOP comes out in the US in a few days, so y'all BETTER go see it. i've seen it 3 times and it's still fucking hilarious. also i hope everyone saw MOON or we're not friends.

HEY THERE HAVE ALSO BEEN A FEW UPDATES ON HTTP://LAUGHEDLIKE.BLOGSPOT.COM SO YOU'RE GONNA WANNA CHECK THAT OUT. I HAVE ONE BLOG FOLLOWER AND IT'S MY MOTHER. MAKE ME LESS LAME PLEASE.

SoCo is making me feisty. i apologize on behalf of everyone who is involved in making Southern Comfort.

unionsquare @ 2009-07-13T22:19:00

2009-07-13T21:22:41Z

dudes, i did it!

i really made a real life blog... like one that is actually about something!

anyway

it would make me feel REALLY GOOD if people read it. even just once in a while. i don't know how to get people to start reading it, so you friends are the first to be notified. and if you read it n' stuff i will feel confident and start advertising it to more people!

right now it's just an intro, but i think i'll write something else tonight to put up. this is exciting!

laughedlike.blogspot.com

laughedlike.blogspot.com

laughedlike.blogspot.com

k thanks

p.s. laughedlike.blogspot.com

unionsquare @ 2009-07-13T15:31:00

2009-07-13T14:36:23Z

i should have plugged this a while ago, but i couldn't get it to play. but now that i have...

http://audioshrapnel.podbean.com/2009/07/09/let-there-be-podcast

please listen! the first podcast from Rusty Shrapnel, hosted by Nick Green and Jamie Dunn, two of my favorite course mates! I should be on one sooner or later...

i think i'm also going to start a film blog that makes me write more often. i will link it when it happens.

seriously, listen! they've got the dish on the EIFF and it's unedited, which is fun and a bit different, but not too sloppy.

the hot dog has never more accurately represented my psyche

2009-07-01T23:17:13Z

It's hard for me to believe I was in the states a month ago. Since I got back to Scotland I've been in my new flat for 4 nights, one of which was in between the US and Edinburgh. Now that I'm back from the festival, I've been slightly sick but also just enjoying having a place to myself (and my two flatmates, of course). Like, a WORKING computer to watch shit on, a bed bigger than my left leg, and no need to worry about fire alarms or who might be sniffing around (no pun intended).

I wrote a review of Humpday today and will write AT LEAST one more review tomorrow as well as applying for AT LEAST five jobs. I will also go out to apply for jobs AND buy a new bra as all of mine seem to be mysteriously breaking in the same spot, sending jagged metal spikes into my flesh at all sorts of inopportune times. (Is there an opportune time for jagged metal to spike into your flesh?)

Yesterday I put all my external hard drive music back on my computer, as well as starting to download a few torrents. Now I'm listening to some old good stuff, drinking a Sam Smith's Organic Cherry beer (which is soon to be replaced with its slightly-more-delicious cousin, Raspberry). I just rolled a blunt and will soon sit back and enjoy technology in the form of Troop Beverly Hills on youtube.

I feel slightly postpartum about the EIFF, I've said it before (many, many drunken times) but I'll say it again - it was like summer camp. Meeting a ton of people, all interested in film. You go to free movies all day, or you can choose workshops or interviews or whatever. See people on the streets and in the Delegate Center way more often than would ever happen on a normal day in the city. Every night there is an hour of free drinks at the Delegate Center, and then a party somewhere, for some film, with or without famous people, but always with free beer and wine. Everyone - everyone - leaves the parties when the free booze runs out or when they kick us out, and heads to the Filmhouse bar, where they stay open till 3 throughout the festival. Famous people, professors, festival directors, press, they all drink just as much as each other, and no matter how drunk you get no one will remember. I learned the first night that free alcohol does not mean drink as much as you physically are able. Rather I learned that the second morning. I'm so glad to have met so many great people and gotten closer to the people I already knew. I just hope I have the ability and the accreditation to get a press pass and go next year. Fuckin' brilliant.

Someone find me the Strangers with Candy movie online, please. I have season 1 on itunes but the movie is so goddamn funny.

Okay, beer blunt & b...elevision?

unionsquare @ 2009-06-28T21:44:00

2009-06-28T20:48:35Z

complete EIFF list:

FEATURES
Wide Open Spaces
Black Dynamite
Moon
Tiny Joys
Adventureland
No Puedo Vivir Sin Ti (Bu Neng Mei You Ni)
Humpday
Le Donk
Harmony and Me
Vinyan
Katalin Varga
Antichrist
For the Love of Movies: The Story of American Film Criticism
Spread
Stella
West Point
Mary and Max
The Crimson Wing
Crying With Laughter
My Last Five Girlfriends

SHORTS
1, 2, 3
Goodbye Mr. Pink
Horse Camp
Horsefingers 3: Star Fucker
Photograph of Jesus
Rabbit Punch
The Reason I Collect
Yellow Belly End
Toy

Festival favorites:
Black Dynamite
Moon
Humpday
Katalin Varga
Stella
Mary and Max
My Last Five Girlfriends

All of those, plus parties with free booze every. night. Two nights spent fooling around with an Irish guy from my hostel, lots of shitty food, and plenty of new friends. Now I must recover for a few days with bed, blunts, and internet tv.

unionsquare @ 2009-06-25T16:39:00

2009-06-25T15:40:47Z

Add to the list:
Spread
For the Love of Movies: The Story of American Film Criticism
Stella
West Point
Mary and Max

Spread sucked, Stella was great, and Mary and Max absolutely blew me away.

unionsquare @ 2009-06-22T19:51:00

2009-06-22T18:54:50Z

So I've been in Edinburgh for the 2009 Edinburgh International Film Festival since June 17th. So far I have seen:

Wide Open Spaces
Black Dynamite
Moon
McLaren Animations (Screening 1)
Tiny Joys
Adventureland
No Puedo Vivir Sin Ti (Bu Neng Mei You Ni)
Humpday
Le Donk
Harmony and Me
Vinyan
Katalin Varga
Antichrist

Reviews to come. Favorites so far: Black Dynamite, Moon, Humpday, Vinyan

Saw Sean Connery. Gael Garcia Bernal stepped on my foot. Shook hands with Alan Cumming.

off now for film #14