Interesting dialog between my friend Tyler and me.
You should hook up with my roommate.
Why?
Because she likes tall guys.
Also I ran the idea by her, and you are apparently ‘cute’.
Isn’t she really short?
Isn’t everyone compared to you? She’s like 5’6”
Ok… well I don’t really know what I want right now, if anything.
You are a wise man, my friend.
Why is that?
Because girls have cooties.
What do you mean by cooties? lol
Um, not STDs, at least not in her case (or mine). So… maybe I mean that girls are crazy.
Lol… I’m just messin’ with ya. All girls are crazy.
So are boys though so it balances out. Take my boyfriend for example. He does an impression of the Queen.
Oh really? That’s… cool… =P
Also he has two days left of high school and plays the trumpet so he skipped his last band concert tonight.
Wow… just wow.
And he likes me so he must be pretty freaking weird. :P
Lol, I wouldn’t say that much.
Aww. Thanks man, I needed that.
No problem.
Well anyway, yeah, my roomie has been in this relationship for almost a month and they just don’t talk. So she asked me if I had any tall friends who talked.
I honestly don’t talk that much unless I know the person pretty well. I’m shy, you know that. =P
True. But you are also frickin’ awesome which makes up for it.
Yeah… I guess so =P but yeah if they don’t talk at all, that’s just not right.
Yeah, and he lives directly above us.
Ok now that is just dumb if he’s that close and they don’t talk…
I agree. I probably talk to you more than he talks to her. :P
Ok now that’s just really sad.
Pretty pathetic. But yeah, felt like telling you that was why I asked, not just out of the blue.
Okay… well I don’t know.
You have barely met her. Not knowing is understandable
Yeah. I’m bored right now.
I should go to sleep. I still have four finals this week.
"It's time to prove that you've come back here to rebuild"
back together, working it out...? And for now... it's good.
building a mystery ...new Seb's Song of the Week
Four finals.
Wednesday: Human Origins, Intro to Film Analysis.
Thursday: Interpretation of Literature.
Friday: Classical Mythology.
I am a studybug.
Diet Coke.
Vodka, blueberry pomegranate juice.
The Nineties - Paula Cole, Sarah McLachlan, Jewel, Shawn Colvin, Natalie Imbruglia, several others. Old No Doubt.
"don't let me fall out of love"
Ramen noodles. Too many pennies. See-through shirts with Snoopy on them. Paying five dollars for a sandwich and a loaf of bread while slightly tipsy. Eating on the steps of the Capital at one o'clock in the morning. Singing with drunks. Finding more pennies. Taking sips from cans, sips from bottles, sips from cups. Finding out true love is blind (Louis XIV).
Gay threesomes, two girls and a boy... all of them men in some sense of that arbitrary word.
Study, dusty, tydus.
realism mise-en-scene direction quality diegesis montage plot boom
Agamemnon Medea Jocasta Hylas Polyphemus Laocoon Scylla Ariadne
Sedaris Ginsberg Foer Saunders Chekhov Calvino... Denis Johnson, Baldwin
Paranthropus boisei gracility insular nanism Taung supraorbital torus postcanine megadontia
Pizza parties, ordering out, bottled water, packing up, "for the last time freshman year"
Hobbling through it on crutches.
I think the difference before was that I still loved him. Now that I don't, why stay together?
Also I haven't really cried. I thought I was going to, but I didn't. I got some frustrated tears thinking about the past, but none about the present.
Now I'm just lonely. Crying, not over him, but for myself.
"I need some sleep..." -- eels
"...momentaril
They say that nobody's perfect until you love them.
I take issue with that.
What if you love them and they're still not perfect?
Some will argue that you don't really love them.
I prefer to think I'm just not oblivious.
But still it aches.
My computer is in Texas again, being fixed... for the same problem. Good job, repair guys.
Losing sleep.
Distraught.
He loves me,
He loves me not?
Hm.
So I bought my first package of Lactaid (actually it's the store brand, Dairy Relief. There's something amusing about that... or there was, until I realised that I actually did need relief from dairy). That was exciting. Several people have mentioned that at this point I might as well become a vegan. I said no way. I would die (as if I'm not dying already).
Talked about the Iliad in my mythology discussion today. Pretty sweet. My TA, you can tell, really loves mythology: Helen of Troy was "smokin' hot" and Ares "stabbed him in the guts". Man oh man. Also, apparently Homer "busted rhymes"... oh my. He cracks me up.
My essay is done for my next class! woo.
I refuse to do any homework (or get drunk) this weekend. Most likely this means I will be doing a lot of playing the Sims. ...so... texting is probably the optimal way to get ahold of me.
Mucho luvz.
If you like good music made by friendly, attractive boys, you should click on this: http://profile
People from my town keep dying, or being in serious car accidents and airlifted to the hospital.
I have an outline and a huge research paper due next week, neither of which I have started.
I was going to go to Wisconsin and see some old friends this weekend, but my trip got cancelled due to weather. I'm amassing student loans, but to what end?
And now, suddenly, my future looks blacker than ever before.
It occurred to me over lunch today that if I don't find someone to settle down with by the time I graduate, I won't find one at all. See, it's not necessary to date in college, but it is afterward. And I can't date. I won't.
But I don't want to settle, either. ...and yet I can't bear to be alone.
He doesn't love me. He thinks he does, but he doesn't. And so I'm stuck.
I'm three stories off the ground. There's a really, really obvious solution to all this, one that hasn't occurred to me since high school but looks better and better all the time.
A Few Notes from the Land of MySpace:
1. Our interface sucks!
2. I've gone to find myself, for I am convinced that the secrets of my soul lie out there, somewhere, and whether or not that somewhere is accessible by the open road remains to be seen. I am on a quest for my essence, a quest beyond the sunset...
My day so far:
A noiseless patient spider
I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated
Mark'd how to explore the vacant, vast surrounding
It launched forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself.
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.
And you O my soul where you stand
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space...
FUCK YOU WALT WHITMAN.
...I have to have this poem memorised by 5 o'clock, you see.
That's in two hours and forty minutes.
Three more lines.
They are (though I haven't memorised them)
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them.
Till the bridge you will need be form'd, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.
...I have never heard of such pretentious crap.
Where's the barbaric yawp? O Captain My Captain?
...actually, O Captain My Captain is the only Whitman poem I've ever encountered that I can stand. The only good part of Song Of Myself is the bit about the barbaric yawp. Everything else... nobody needs.
Ugh.
Seriously.
Give me some Emily or Edgar any day.
Song of Myself?
Give me the Odyssey.
Give me Shakespeare -
Lend me your sonnets.
Whitman, the only good thing from you
Is the yawp, the yawp which sounds from my window on still nights,
Which sounds from the footbridge, up and down the river,
Past the factories and frat houses.
Why couldn't you have stuck
With O Captain! My Captain!
That pretty little verse, exciting.
Maybe if Booth had visited the theater more frequently
We wouldn't have to read this Leaves of Grass rubbish,
These pretentious, unfounded metaphors,
This tripe.
Today:
Up too early.
Midterm.
Too-long lecture.
Too-long break between classes with nowhere to lurk in the meantime.
Stupid honours discussion section.
Break.
Lecture.
Sooooooo tired.
Two papers due tomorrow.
Another midterm on Wednesday.
Reading to do for Thursday.
An essay due a week from tomorrow.
An essay due a week from Thursday.
Mutherducker.
So my computer is dead.
It's on its way to Texas to get fixed.
...it's not really dead, just in need of some hardware repair - the screen kept freaking out.
So here we are.
Computers are going to need to be borrowed, so...
...expect less frequent checks and updates and fun stuff like that.
Fresh asparagus, carrots, red peppers and yellow squash, all sauteed in butter. Penne pasta with cheesy pesto sauce. Tofu cubes sauteed in rosemary. Spinach and grape tomatoes with raspberry dressing.
Food is a heaven unto itself.
"Let's pretend we don't exist."
Life is crazy. There's beauty all over the place here. Today I saw the exhibit of VOOM Portraits by Robert Wilson. He is a genius/god/gur
"Let's pretend we're in Antarctica."
It's cold-ish, and the ground is slushy here in the city. I walked a lot today, over the pedestrian brige - which spans the mostly-frozen river - to the museum, to the noodle place downtown, that kind of thing. I felt dizzy, I felt nauseous (my roommate is sick)... but the walking was good. And once I saw VOOM... I just felt better. But 'tis still chilly, enough to warrant a blanket or snuggling or something of that nature.
"Let's have bizarre celebrations."
My mother and sister are spending the night. They watched Pride and Prejudice in my room while my roommate and I went upstairs to a boy's room (complete with actual TV) that we frequent. We watched Boondock Saints; for some reason, Jess (roomie) and I both felt like watching people get the shit kicked out of them, and Shawn (boy) probably just wanted to see some boobies [his term, not mine]. Shawn's roommate, Dan, probably just likes the company. He seems like a lonely person. But who knows.
"It seems too lovely to be true..."
Fighting, now. Always fighting. I love him; truly, I do. But constantly. He suggests I do things, or don't do things, it doesn't matter. If I want - or need - to do the opposite, I will. I gotta do what I gotta do. His cautions and urgings as to what I should do displease me; I am one headstrong bitch. So I tell him. And he apologises.
The second time he does it, I tell him. And he apologises.
The third time...
The fourth...
By now, I don't want his apologies. I want the nudging, the trying to control (no matter how well-meaning) to stop. I'm not doing anything destructive. Most people would agree that Facebook deactivation is a positive thing to do in order to achieve higher grades; I'm not drinking or smoking or having sex or even snogging. I'm being faithful to him, which is more than can be said of any of his predecessors.
And I do love him.
I have serious issues with trust. Serious, serious issues. And yet I trust him enough to be completely open with him. And the result of that trust is something uncannily beautiful.
He is too good for me. I fear the day he realises this; on that day, he will either leave me or lie to me. Either way, my heart will break.
Even now, I'm waiting for his phone call.
I'm creating an alter-ego, one with no connection to me. Yay the internet. I can be Supergirl if I want.
You don't know how it feels
How the flush on my cheeks
burns inside me, too,
Every time you pass me in the street.
Each time I see you, I think
of your dick, unwelcome within me
waiting until I slept to violate
No permission
You didn't respect me enough to ask
At first, I tried to convince myself
it was only a dream
but your seed on my skin
Told a sadder story
In class, you wouldn't meet my eye
Could you not stand the pain there?
The disbelief?
That says to me, you knew what you did
was Wrong.
So now
Every time I see you,
I want to pull those stupid buds out of your ears
And scream in your face what a bastard you are
I want to tell them all what you did to me
And how it still burns inside
How scared alone violated angry hateful I was,
and still am
But I don't.
A Parody: "The Ballad of Jimmy Pop" (Based on "The Ballad of Chasey Lain" by the Bloodhound Gang)
Dear Jimmy Pop
You write disgusting slop
And it turns me on
I just wanted to ask
Would you eat my ass?
I want you Jimmy, come on.
I’ve had a lotta dick
Had a lotta dick
Now I’m down on all fours
Down on all fours
I’ve had a lotta dick Jimmy
Now I want yours
Dear Jimmy Pop
This silence needs to stop
Ya never wrote me back
How could I let you eat
My ass when ya treat
Horny college girls like that?
I’ve had a lotta dick
Had a lotta dick
Now I’m down on all fours
Down on all fours
I’ve had a lotta dick Jimmy
Now I want yours
Dear Jimmy Pop
I’m writing in a strop
This verse is my last
I have no vibrator
College has made me too poor
You better eat my ass.
I’ve had a lotta dick
Had a lotta dick
Now I’m down on all fours
Down on all fours
I’ve had a lotta dick Jimmy
Now I want yours
P.S. Mom and Dad this is Jimmy
Jimmy this is my mom and dad
Now show 'em them testes
Now show 'em them testes
P.S. Mom and Dad this is Jimmy
Jimmy this is my mom and dad
Now show 'em them testes
Now show 'em them testes
Would ya fuck me for smack?
:D
Notes.
Edward Norton has really beautiful nails in Fight Club.
It's storming.
College is soon.
Posting this from Pennsylvania.
This week has been one of extensive travels. First to a suburb of Chicago, then overnight, then taking the train to Chicago, walking to the Art Institute.
Monday: Drove to Chicago with Mom and Ellen. Fairly quiet; Ellen sleeps in the car. Get to my aunt and uncle's house in the burbs; go to the movies with my cousin and two of his friends, then sleep.
Tuesday: Woke up early to catch the Metra train. Uneventful trip to Union Station; walked a few blocks to the Art Institute. Spent four hours there (could have spent days). Basked in masterpieces; cried as I stood in front of Jackson Pollock's Greyed Rainbow, my all-time favourite painting... and I saw it, in the "flesh" (I suppose one should say canvas, or something). Grabbed subs from Jimmy John's and hopped the train back to my uncle's suburb. Roared over to a suburb of Cleveland, where another uncle lives; met some friends of relatives, stayed the night.
Wednesday to be posted later; time to leave the coffee shop and go visit some long-lost relatives. Ciao for now!
"Boom, boom! You broke it down, you broke it down, now build it up, build it up, build it up!"
I wish I had dreams of David Bowie.
I'm hungry.
I hunger.
I am.
Hunger.
Hungary?
Nope.
Sugary.
That's better.
Yeah, changed the screen name.
It needed it.
I needed it.
I'm bored.
Cassi and Paul are out of town.
I should be packing, or cleaning, or generally getting organised.
I can't.
So I sit here.
And type.
And watch Flight of the Conchords on YouTube.
I check my e-mail constantly - all five.
Nothing, nada, zilch...
Except the occasional "Adam Limkemann has poked you on Facebook".
I type LOL when I'm definitely not laughing out loud.
I type smileys when I'm not smiling.
The only realities are the ellipses.
...
I'm set away on MSN.
I'm not away.
I'm only blocking one person on MSN.
I'm only blocking that person because I don't want them to be able to re-add me.
"I drank your poison 'cause you told me it was wine. Shame on you if you fool me once; shame on me if you fool me twice. What good am I to you if I can't be broken?" -- P!nk
...that's why that person is blocked.
There are sixty-one American dollars in my wallet. Dunno where they came from.
"She's so hot... I wanna tell her she's hot, but she'll think I'm sexist... she's so hot, she's making me sexist!" - FOTC
Well... I'm gonna... collapse. And maybe call 'im.
"You can always hear the people who are willing to sacrifice sonmebody else's life. They're plenty loud and they talk all the time. You can find them in churches and schools and newspapers and legislatures and congress. That's their business. They sound wonderful. Death before dishonor. This ground sanctified by blood. These men who died so gloriously. They shall not have died in vain. Our noble dead.
Hmmmm.
But what do the dead say?
Did anybody ever come back from the dead any single one of the millions who got killed did any one of them ever come back and say by god I'm glad I'm dead because death is always better than dishonor? Did they say I'm glad I died to make the world safe for democracy? Did they say I like death better than losing liberty? Did any of them ever say it's good to think I got my guts blown out for the honor of my country? Did any of them ever say look at me I'm dead but I died for decency and that's better than being alive? Did any of them ever say here I am I've been rotting for two years in a foreign grave but it's wonderful to die for your native land? Did any of them say hurray I died for womanhood and I'm happy see how I sing even though my mouth is choked with worms?
Nobody but the dead know whather all these things people talk about are worth dying for or not. And the dead can't talk. So the words about noble deaths and sacred blood and honor and such are all put into dead lips by grave robbers and fakes who have no right to speak for the dead. If a man says death before dishonor he is either a fool or a liar because he doesn't know what death is. He isn't able to judge. He only knows about living. He doesn't know anything about dying. If he is a fool and believes in death before dishonor let him go ahead and die. But all the little guys who are too busy to fight should be left alone. And al the guys who say death before dishonor is pure bull the important thing is life before death they should be left alone too.. Because the guys whos ay life isn't worth living without some principle so important you're willing to die for it they're all nuts. And the guys who say you'll see there'll come a time you can't escape you're going to have to fight and die because it'll mean your very life why they are also nuts. They are talking like fools. They are saying that two and two make nothing. They are saying that a man will have to die in order to protect his life. If you agree to fight you agree to die. Now if you die to protect your life you aren't alive anyhow so how is there any sense in a thing like that? A man doesn't say I will starve myself to death to keep from starving. He doesn't say I will spend all my money in order to save my money. He doesn't say I will burn my house down in order to keep it from burning. Why then should he be willing to die for the privilege of living? There ought to be at least as much common sense about living and dying as there is about going to the grocery store and buying a loaf of bread."
-- Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo, pp. 114-116