| leaving las vegas |
[01 May 2008|10:27pm] |
there was a cherry coke on a counter today, so i drank it without asking or paying. it was really good, i am impolite. i tied my hair in tiny knots to say hello & i bought tons of produce. & then it got hot & i started to sweat & i wanted to throw tomatoes around the flea market. granma said No. i made her garlic bread & she slept like the sweetheart of heroic drunks. i am really interested in frances farmer & learning about fast car maintenance. i know it all means something, cos the beauty marks turn on like a constellation atop my skin when they hear about my knowledge for wondering. connect the dots, trace the trail, lights of liberty ignite tonight. i have a weird habit/hobby of screen-capping movies. it's fun but never means anything. i guess ill show them here if you want to see something that is like freedom these are stills from leaving las vegas. nicolas cage is boss. fin.
( giving you money makes me want to cum. )
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[27 Apr 2008|08:12pm] |
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| 15. love story |
[12 Apr 2008|05:48pm] |
i am feeling real crummy, like sick, so i just read all day. 1 part in hammock 1 part on velvet sofa 1 part in bed then mama told me to get her some liquor. good day. i read love story. that shit isnt cheesy. it's really the opposite of that, if the opposite of that isnt like war. it's about a boy & his wife & also about a boy & his father. the latter love story isnt the love story that's written about on the back of the book, but it's just as important. more important too? the writing is really clever, like awkward poetry, & im kind of unbelievable about it in that erich segal was commisioned to write the book after he'd already written the screenplay. weird right. the book & the movie were released the same year. the book on valentine's day. aw how supremely cheese.
it takes place in the 60s, at harvard + radcliffe & the realms beyond graduation. i love those kinds of preppie pieces. an especially witty girl falls in love with a rich, equally quick boy. they call each other bitch & sonovabitch fondly. they are in stoopid love. they get married right after college & boy is cut-off by parents, so they live in squalor for a little while & it's kind of romantic i guess maybe im not so sure about that part. then he gets a big time job in new york city & life looks good, but then she dies.
this book was an incredible bruiser. go out & get it. my copy is ancient & green & tear stained. seriously, there's 30 year old human excrement on the pages i think.
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| 13. winne-the-pooh + 14. pride & prejudice |
[02 Apr 2008|05:28pm] |
hi. once i got engulfed in twin peaks it engulfed me, that's that, & i forgot about any other form of productive recreation. i havent created anything in awhile. for my birthday i made a cake made of flowers & blueberries that didnt have to be heated up. someone said catch her with a net, lock her up!
i read winnie-the-pooh for the first time. who knew that babies' fairy tales could be grown girls' absolute anthem. a.a. milne is a sharp, sharp person with good wit & a big heavy head on her shoulders. maybe it's a boy, i havent done my homework. but ive done my research: in real-life, you do not need algebraaa. i also read pride & prejudice. that is for some juice-freaks, or freaks into pills. we are all freaks, we should all read jane austen. her sentences are kind of repetitive AND she really doesnt pay attention to grade-school rules of grammar for being the best writer of a long-time. all time? she spells things wrong, but i think that's supposed to be acceptable or cute. & she says: 'lizzy bennett & lydia bennett walked to the barn to fetch a pail of water. in the barn they met sister jack & she showed them her scars, her sins. she was afraid of the inflamation around her friend's thigh.' in that last sentence, i dont know WHO she is. it could be lizzy, it could be lydia, it could be sister jack because jane austen is obviously a pro at being cryptic. jane austen needs to clarify & remember what 3rd grade taught her. because really the she is supposed to be sister jack, but i think we're supposed to understand it is lizzy even though lizzy is NOT the last proper noun established before taking on the simple she. what if we dont understand, like me, i did not understand. will i never be a well bred scholar fit for kings & a prince of pastors here in my century? it was a good book. thick. smelled good. writes-for-you-softly. i thought mr. bennett kind of sucked & i know everybody usually really admires him as a minor character. mrs. bennett was definitely the neurotic better half & mr. darcy is dreamy as holy crimes, how did ms. austen know how to do it. god's gifts are for sharing, good child.
i am now reading something about a western front. i am 120 pages in & i dont know the title. i am really paying very little attention to life. i will probably get stabbed in the face tonight. i am also reading the book of lost things when my dad is looking. he thinks i am a warrior princess good at demolishing novels. i am, on tuesdays & thursdays. today is wednesday, get outta my face pops.
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| 12. naked |
[23 Feb 2008|12:04pm] |
i think i read david sedaris the way old, sad ladies read nora roberts & danielle steel. he's a good fix when i don't know what else to read. he's a really neat guy; he used to clean houses in suspenders before he learned to write for money. he has fantasies of what i have fantasies of too. of being a member of a regal family with especially regal names, who among their many assets are blessed with especially regal skin that glows. in his fantasy of glowing skins, he fantasizes about going to bed with a sock tied around his eyes in order to fall asleep. FANTASIES. naked is like most everything he writes; it's a compilation of funny anecdotes from his childhood til present. it's really special.
after i read any david sedaris i like to torment myself with visions of inadequacy. could i ever make my life seem so interesting on paper, with interjections of cute & clever all over the pages? no, of course not. he is a small literary miracle i guess. however, as all the stories that comprise his memoirs are basically grim & dismal that kind of dress up in Witty, i think publication is an exercise in weird masochism on his part. that's special too.
now im reading pride & prejudice. fantasy.
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| 11. the awakening |
[14 Feb 2008|12:25pm] |
earlier this week i finished the awakening & it exploded my world. it was written by kate chopin a hundred years ago. i'm often really intimidated by classic books unless theyre written by d.h. lawrence or camus. so naturally, i was really intimidated by this book & it took a lot of courage to pick it up. really, i had to pull my teeth & command read; it'd been on my bookshelf for like a year & a half after a special thing told me he heard my favorite things in it when he read it. his gesture rolled right off my back then.
it's written excellently; i finished it in 2 afternoons. you couldve done it in one, but there was this almighty wind outside & i was really into listening to haunted music in my room & doing nothing else recreational. it's written with this modern air & old fashioned elegant thought which makes a really perfect voice that equals = timeless. it's about edna who is married & young & pretty, long blonde, & lives by the gulf of mexico. she loves her children & loves her husband, but she's bored & weary & chooses to wake up her soul in an effort to defeat boredom, weariness. there were days when she was unhappy, she did not know why, -- when it did not seem worthwhile to be glad or sorry, to be alive or dead; when life appeared to her like a grotesque pandemonium & humanity like worms struggling blindly toward inevitable anihilation. she could not work on such a day, nor weave fancies to stir her pulses & warm her blood. this was really eerie when i read it. it's not carpe diem shit though; she really subtly wakes her soul, you have to have wide open eyes. she also falls in love with somebody who is not her husband, but she's been falling in love with everybody else all her life. she learns to swim good too.
this book is holy cake or something. i recommend it if you like finding really believable, comic relationships in books. kate chopin's not funny, but her characters are, & theyre accurate humans. i recommend it if you like mad decent english too. i recommend it also if you want to laugh at what willa cather called "sex fiction." ignorant hussy. it'd be more appropriately categorized as a political romance. also, the copy i have is filled with some of her short stories too. those are really good. theyre small but have big ironic endings all about you.
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| zomg |
[12 Feb 2008|01:47pm] |
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| 10. an unfortunate woman |
[07 Feb 2008|04:04pm] |
there's never gonna be such thing as a poor man's richard brautigan.
an unfortunate woman was published after his death, by his daughter. it was one of his last pieces which was arguably not written for eventual publication. i am so happy it was though! most of kafka's work was published after his death by a friend who he entrusted to burn all his manuscripts. his friend didnt burn nothin & thus, kafka! my friend who really likes richard brautigan too said she doesnt know if she'll ever read an unfortunate woman. out of principle? she argued with me & asked what if we removed the paint from jackson pollock's current works to get to the hidden pictures underneath. it would be defacing & immoral, unright, shady. i dont know what she's talking about.
"how did you break yr leg?" they ask eagerly, or they pretend to be nonchalant about it. "broke yr leg, huh?"
sure, yeah, it's broken all right.
but they wont let it go at that.
they want dramatic details & there are no dramatic details. all broken leg stories are is being at the wrong place at the right time, & then snap goes the calcium.
i have heard hundreds of broken leg stories.
the first time i broke my leg by stumbling over a root & falling down a four-foot hill, that's right four feet, everybody in san francisco wanted to know how i broke my leg. i got so goddamn tired of telling everybody that i stumbled over a root & fell four feet. they always looked at me as if i werent telling them the truth, that i was telling them a fairy tale, so one afternoon in a taxicab i did.
"broken leg?" the cabby said, watching me struggle into the cab with a pair of crutches & a cast on my leg. those are certainly obvious clues.
"looks like it," i said, going no further with it, & telling the driver where i wanted to go in a very precise, telegram-style form of direction. i hoped that would throw him off the scent.
i knew i had failed when he asked me where i wanted to go. i repeated my telegram of final destination & waited for the question.
"broken leg?" he repeated, already set on his course. "how did you break yr leg?"
"dragon," i said.
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