- Christine: How's the fresh meat
- Davis: None here. Just old meat thats been bought
I heard of a man
who says words so beautifully
that if he only speaks their name
women give themselves to him.
If I am dumb beside your body
while silence blossoms like tumors on our lips.
it is because I hear a man climb stairs and clear his throat outside the door.
- Leonard Cohen
my internet has been timing out like crazy lately and it’s extremely frustrating when it’ll work for about 30 seconds and then just stop.
about 2 minutes ago i got really frustrated and hit my keyboard a couple times, which is probably equivalent to the shaking baby syndrome, and the internet just magically worked and is continuing to work for longer than 30 seconds.
yay for hitting things!
While sitting in my Art History 209 midterm, sitting next to Crindy, the combination of her gum and clothing created the smell of my summer. A stressful midterm made relaxing by the beautiful scent of Crindy
take better notes. just take any notes.
especially in times like these
time goes by too fast and i wish i could spend more time writing and reading and knitting and making videos and petting my cats.
but i really wish i had more time to write & re-discover my favorite music
i go to New York in 21 days.
my friends are the best and they all came together in Dewey’s today.
i had fallen into a writing slump and reading The Favourite Game by Leonard Cohen sort of pulled me out of that. it’s basically Leonard’s life and loves through the main character of Lawrence Breavman. he writes about things he knows.
so in my journal i started writing about things i know. i thought about high school and wrote things that i know about high school. i remembered things that made high school what it was. i remembered stupid little memories that you sometimes think about but never write.
hopefully in the end, i will become a better story teller.
2010 has spontaneously become a year of betterment. i’m healthier and i’m reading (and completing) books again. i wonder what else i will end up adding to the list
I can’t make the hills
The system is shot
I’m living on pills
For which I thank G-d
I followed the course
From chaos to art
Desire the horse
Depression the cart
I sailed like a swan
I sank like a rock
But time is long gone
Past my laughing stock
My page was too white
My ink was too thin
The day wouldn’t write
What the night pencilled in
My animal howls
My angel’s upset
But I’m not allowed
A trace of regret
For someone will use
What I couldn’t be
My heart will be hers
She’ll step on the path
She’ll see what I mean
My will cut in half
And freedom between
For less than a second
Our lives will collide
The endless suspended
The door open wide
Then she will be born
To someone like you
What no one has done
She’ll continue to do
I know she is coming
I know she will look
And that is the longing
And this is the book
- Leonard Cohen
in high school one day, a close friend was really grumpy and it really frustrated me. after school he told me his cousin had been deported and shot.
in high school one lunchtime, i walked to the park with my friend. he unzipped his knapsack and pulled out a fetal pig he stole from the science lab. he placed it on one of the swings to scare little kids.
in high school one morning, my best friend at the time greeted me at our locker with a swollen tongue. she had tried piercing it the night before with a safety pin.
in high school some mornings, i would walk to the cafeteria with my friend who would buy chocolate milk and then pour half the carton out. we’d walk to his locker where he’d pull out a bottle of some sort of alcohol and use it to fill it up again. later during the day he’d hand out caffeine pills to people who were curious.
in high school once, i went to the “bathroom” during cosmetology class. i ran into a friend of a friend of mine. we walked in circles after she washed down a purple ecstacy pill with water from the fountain.
- Krantz: Breavman, why are paper bags full of white bread so ugly?
- Breavman: I'm glad you asked, Krantz. They are advertisements for the frailty of the body. If a junkie wore his hypodermic needle pinned to his lapel you'd feel exactly the same disgust. A bag bulging with food is a kind of visible bowel. Trust the Bolsheviks to wear their digestive systems on their sleeves!
- Krantz: Sufficient, Breavman. I thought you'd know.