Monday, January 30, 2006
Friday, January 27, 2006
we will be wildlife children
i think one day we will begin to devolve.
all of sudden, after centuries of slouching, our backs will bow and crack until we walk completely bent over like we're all looking for the change we just dropped. everything will be moving so fast, that shopping and eating will become first-come-first-serve. everything will be a race, and we wil bash eachother's heads from running bent over for the last morsel for 5.99. sooner or later we will start hunting food, because its the only way we can figure to eat, because the race has become too fast and too dangerous.
car accidents will become the leading cause of death for everyone. animals and humans alike, automobiles are the new plague, the new aids. everyone is just going to fast that all we can do is slow down. we'll start walking out in the woods so we aren't hit from flying shrapnal from the thousands of car wrecks every day. explosions will sound all day long, and nothing but construction and slicing trees can be heard for miles.
the people in the gated communities will eventually become right up against the interstate, and after a few house fires from flying car engines and hundreds of children dying in the streets from flying vehicles, the yuppies and their families will move further out into the neighborhoods, buying small houses away from the noise.
but the all day noise and explosions and danger won't be able to be escaped. we'll move into the forests that are left, the few that greenpeace and sierra club have saved. the animals that have survived will be in surplus since their habitat has been reduced so drastically. we'll hunt our own food, and build our own houses. we will walk hunched over and pray that no one else comes for us.
the crews will come to us and try to build their wal-marts and their mcdonalds and their gateway stores, but we will stand on our front lines, we will protect our families and our trees and we will shout in rough voices, "you will not take this. this land is not for you. go away." and we will take them down with our primitive tools, because they can't fight us. civilization will deplete because we just can't take the danger any more.
we will grow together in natural, healthy communities. we will redevelop social roles and gender biases. prejudices will shift and empathy will thrive because we all moved here for the same reason.
contruction will end, cars will stop driving, because there's no one left. the people left in the cities to shop at the malls and race for the food will have died, in competition or on the interstates. most of them died on contact. the newest disease spreading across the world is technology.
so then we will be like atoms, searching to reach our lowest potential energy. we will devolve and reevaluate and recreate and ressurect our universe.
one day we will re-survive our creation, and perhaps we will avoid the burning engines from cars in mid-air, and the twenty-thousand floor buildings, and the television broadcast directly into our minds.
one day we will not know "television".
<3 gen
all of sudden, after centuries of slouching, our backs will bow and crack until we walk completely bent over like we're all looking for the change we just dropped. everything will be moving so fast, that shopping and eating will become first-come-first-serve. everything will be a race, and we wil bash eachother's heads from running bent over for the last morsel for 5.99. sooner or later we will start hunting food, because its the only way we can figure to eat, because the race has become too fast and too dangerous.
car accidents will become the leading cause of death for everyone. animals and humans alike, automobiles are the new plague, the new aids. everyone is just going to fast that all we can do is slow down. we'll start walking out in the woods so we aren't hit from flying shrapnal from the thousands of car wrecks every day. explosions will sound all day long, and nothing but construction and slicing trees can be heard for miles.
the people in the gated communities will eventually become right up against the interstate, and after a few house fires from flying car engines and hundreds of children dying in the streets from flying vehicles, the yuppies and their families will move further out into the neighborhoods, buying small houses away from the noise.
but the all day noise and explosions and danger won't be able to be escaped. we'll move into the forests that are left, the few that greenpeace and sierra club have saved. the animals that have survived will be in surplus since their habitat has been reduced so drastically. we'll hunt our own food, and build our own houses. we will walk hunched over and pray that no one else comes for us.
the crews will come to us and try to build their wal-marts and their mcdonalds and their gateway stores, but we will stand on our front lines, we will protect our families and our trees and we will shout in rough voices, "you will not take this. this land is not for you. go away." and we will take them down with our primitive tools, because they can't fight us. civilization will deplete because we just can't take the danger any more.
we will grow together in natural, healthy communities. we will redevelop social roles and gender biases. prejudices will shift and empathy will thrive because we all moved here for the same reason.
contruction will end, cars will stop driving, because there's no one left. the people left in the cities to shop at the malls and race for the food will have died, in competition or on the interstates. most of them died on contact. the newest disease spreading across the world is technology.
so then we will be like atoms, searching to reach our lowest potential energy. we will devolve and reevaluate and recreate and ressurect our universe.
one day we will re-survive our creation, and perhaps we will avoid the burning engines from cars in mid-air, and the twenty-thousand floor buildings, and the television broadcast directly into our minds.
one day we will not know "television".
<3 gen
Thursday, January 26, 2006
don't wake me i plan on sleeping in
allright, so it has recently come to my attention that i feel the shittiest i have felt in months. someone's airborne, god-forsaken, man-eating cold crept up on me yesterday, and today, without so much as a warning or sympathy card it it me full-force with a brick to the face. i feel absolutely awful. when i get a cold, i get a fucking cold, and my head seems to be slowly collapsing in on itself, while my nose bursts into flame, my throat coated in a fine layer of what can only be described as GAK circa 1994, which puts me in a constant state of feeling like i'm going to vomit. this fucking sucks.
not to mention that since this morning, it is becoming increasingly clear that i need to have my wisdom teeth taken out. it was looking like the little fuckers were going to creep in under the radar of my anal, oral-surgery obsessed dentists. but low and behold, the one on the back right has popped inand made his presence known making it nearly impossible to eat without sering pain through my jaw on that side. NOT to fucking mention that i just got done having that stupid fucking stomach virus so i can actually eat regular food again, but i can eat even LESS now because i can't god damn chew.
i want to be at home with my mommy. i feel so disgusting, not to mention sick makes me feel lonely and sad anyway, and my boyfriend is asleep. so i'm just going to sit here, feel like crap, and miss my family where they take care of me.
pros of being in college:
-eat what and when i want
-sleep when i feel like it
-act on my whims
cons
-no mommy
-no one taking care of me
-did i mention no mommy?
<3 gen
{pout}
not to mention that since this morning, it is becoming increasingly clear that i need to have my wisdom teeth taken out. it was looking like the little fuckers were going to creep in under the radar of my anal, oral-surgery obsessed dentists. but low and behold, the one on the back right has popped inand made his presence known making it nearly impossible to eat without sering pain through my jaw on that side. NOT to fucking mention that i just got done having that stupid fucking stomach virus so i can actually eat regular food again, but i can eat even LESS now because i can't god damn chew.
i want to be at home with my mommy. i feel so disgusting, not to mention sick makes me feel lonely and sad anyway, and my boyfriend is asleep. so i'm just going to sit here, feel like crap, and miss my family where they take care of me.
pros of being in college:
-eat what and when i want
-sleep when i feel like it
-act on my whims
cons
-no mommy
-no one taking care of me
-did i mention no mommy?
<3 gen
{pout}
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
coagulated
this is good story
so monday night, my creative writing class trekked across the parking lot and through the doors into gorgas library. we travelled to the third floor, my favorite floor, because it is full of fiction, literary criticisms, and science journals. our assignment was a simple one: find a book, pick a page, and use the words on that page in any new form you choose to create an original work. our teacher put money in the copier, and we were told to choose one page with lots of text, and copy it. i searched for a book for longer than anyone else, my desire to find a genetics book and use their scientific jargon to create prose. my search proved futile, so at the last second i grabbed "an american dream" from the shelf - a small, antique-looking book with a battered brown cover. i flipped through the pages, and on a certain page the word "coagulated" jumped out at me and i chose that page- page 59. i photocopied the page, stuffed it into my bookbag, and left- it wasn't due till wednesday.
so today, after french, i walked over to the starbucks to start on my assignment. i ordered a sweet coffee, sat down on a couch, and pulled out my notebook. i took a few seconds to rip off the edges of the photocopy to reduce my copy to the single page- page 59. i sat down, ready to start, and read what i had brought with me.
you can read what i read if you like, at the bottom of the page, you then may understand my feelings better.
i was moved to tears. unbelievably moved. magnificently changed. i read over it what must have been ten times, just in awe. how did i manage to pick this page, this moment, this desperate scene out of all the hundreds of pages? how could i have walked around with such emotion in my bag and not felt its weight? how could these words have been hiding in my pack for two days without them breaking free and screaming "look at us we are beautiful!" until i was forced to read them. the page, isolated from all its brothers and sisters, tells only a tiny fraction of a story, but at the same time tells so very much. i cried in the middle of starbucks, surrounded by people blabbing about facebook and vanilla lattes and gymnastics, and they were ignorant to the bright light i held in my hands. i just wanted to force them all to read it, to start a sobbing fest in that coffee shop and change everyone's life.
the tiny bits of dialogue are the most amazing. it is so horribly sad without using any words like sadness, or any tears, or any explanation. its description and simplicity evoke the deepest sort of sadness and sympathy, and there is so much about the narrator that is revealed. a good book is one that you can read the entire story in one page, and this is that. the words are so sweet, the narration so matter-of-fact while at the same time being so intensely mournful. i couldn't get enough of it. i wanted to swallow it whole, i wanted the words to run through my blood, i wanted something to show for this feeling that overcame me. i wanted to burst into flame.
after reading it enough times to where i was satisfied with my feelings for it, i started my assignment. i wanted to use every single word the author had, i wanted to somehow get that same reaction and that same meaning and make eveyrone in my class just burn with the same intensity that i had. i separated the whole page, made columns for all the nouns, all the verbs, the adjectives, adverbs, prepositions. i wrote down all the personal pronouns, articles, adjectives that could be nouns and prepositions that could be adjectives. i picked apart every piece i could get my fingers on, separating and labeling every part of every sentence. i wrote down all the punctuation- i wanted to be thorough.
then, as i readied myself to begin rearranging, i suddenly felt a great sense of guilt. what had i done? this beautiful piece, these moving feelings and intense emotions, i had just reduced the entire page to several pieces of paper covered in meaningless garbage. i felt like i had gone into someone's home, stolen their baby, and pinned it down and dissected it, spreading all its parts on their floor, and yelling "i didn't mean to! it was so beautiful! it was only homework!" i looked at all my work and rearranging and felt disgusting, like i had destroyed something irreplacable. i read the original page again, trying to catch that original feeling, the holes it stuck in me- but still, i felt so plainly awful.
so i crumpled up my pages of dissection and stuffed them in my sweet coffee cup and threw them away. i read the page over again, and penciled in some thoughts on the copy, underlined particularly good words, and contemplated different ways to rearrange. but i just couldn't sit there any more with all the baby parts lying in front of me in a bloody mess. i'll do the assignment, and i might post it if any of you want to read it, but i just thought i would share this strange little experience.
it's changed my life in a very small way.
and i'm going to read this book.
<3>An American Dream page 59
of pink-tinted glasses was sitting in his car, the door open, holding
his temple, and groaning in a whining gurgling sound which be-
trayed the shoddy state of his internal plumbing.
But I had broken through the crowd and was about to kneel at
Deborah's body. An arm in a blue serge sleeve held me back.
"Officer, that's my wife."
The arm went down suddenly. "You better not look, mister"
There was nothing agreeable to see. She must have first struck
the pavement, and the nearest car had been almost at a halt before it
hit her. Perhaps it pushed the body a few feet. Now her limbs
had the used-up look of rope washed limp in the sea, and her
head was wedged beneath a tire. There was a man taking photo-
graphs, his strobe light going off each time with a mean crackling
hiss, and as I knelt, he stepped back and turned to someone else, a
doctor with a satchel in his hand, and said, "She's yours."
"All right, move the car back," the doctor said. Two policemen
near me pushed on the automobile and retired the front wheels a
foot before the car bumped gently into the car behind it. I knelt
ahead of the medical examiner and looked at her face. It was filthy
with a scrape of asphalt and tire marks. Just hald of her was
recognizable, for the side of her face which caught the tire was
swollen. She looked like a fat young girl. But trhe back of her head,
like a fruit gone rotten and lying in its juices, was the center of a
pond of coagulated blood near to a foot in diameter. I stayed between
the police photographer who was getting ready to take more pictures
and the medical examiner who was opening his satchel, and still
on my knees, touched my face to hers, being careful to catch some of
the blood on my hands, and even (as I nuzzled her hair with my
nose) a streak of two more on my cheeks. "Oh, baby," I said alound. It
might have been good to weep, but nothing of that sort was even
near. No, shock and stupor would be the best I could muster.
"Deborah," I said, and like an echo from the worst of one's past
came a clear sense of doing this before, of making love to some
so monday night, my creative writing class trekked across the parking lot and through the doors into gorgas library. we travelled to the third floor, my favorite floor, because it is full of fiction, literary criticisms, and science journals. our assignment was a simple one: find a book, pick a page, and use the words on that page in any new form you choose to create an original work. our teacher put money in the copier, and we were told to choose one page with lots of text, and copy it. i searched for a book for longer than anyone else, my desire to find a genetics book and use their scientific jargon to create prose. my search proved futile, so at the last second i grabbed "an american dream" from the shelf - a small, antique-looking book with a battered brown cover. i flipped through the pages, and on a certain page the word "coagulated" jumped out at me and i chose that page- page 59. i photocopied the page, stuffed it into my bookbag, and left- it wasn't due till wednesday.
so today, after french, i walked over to the starbucks to start on my assignment. i ordered a sweet coffee, sat down on a couch, and pulled out my notebook. i took a few seconds to rip off the edges of the photocopy to reduce my copy to the single page- page 59. i sat down, ready to start, and read what i had brought with me.
you can read what i read if you like, at the bottom of the page, you then may understand my feelings better.
i was moved to tears. unbelievably moved. magnificently changed. i read over it what must have been ten times, just in awe. how did i manage to pick this page, this moment, this desperate scene out of all the hundreds of pages? how could i have walked around with such emotion in my bag and not felt its weight? how could these words have been hiding in my pack for two days without them breaking free and screaming "look at us we are beautiful!" until i was forced to read them. the page, isolated from all its brothers and sisters, tells only a tiny fraction of a story, but at the same time tells so very much. i cried in the middle of starbucks, surrounded by people blabbing about facebook and vanilla lattes and gymnastics, and they were ignorant to the bright light i held in my hands. i just wanted to force them all to read it, to start a sobbing fest in that coffee shop and change everyone's life.
the tiny bits of dialogue are the most amazing. it is so horribly sad without using any words like sadness, or any tears, or any explanation. its description and simplicity evoke the deepest sort of sadness and sympathy, and there is so much about the narrator that is revealed. a good book is one that you can read the entire story in one page, and this is that. the words are so sweet, the narration so matter-of-fact while at the same time being so intensely mournful. i couldn't get enough of it. i wanted to swallow it whole, i wanted the words to run through my blood, i wanted something to show for this feeling that overcame me. i wanted to burst into flame.
after reading it enough times to where i was satisfied with my feelings for it, i started my assignment. i wanted to use every single word the author had, i wanted to somehow get that same reaction and that same meaning and make eveyrone in my class just burn with the same intensity that i had. i separated the whole page, made columns for all the nouns, all the verbs, the adjectives, adverbs, prepositions. i wrote down all the personal pronouns, articles, adjectives that could be nouns and prepositions that could be adjectives. i picked apart every piece i could get my fingers on, separating and labeling every part of every sentence. i wrote down all the punctuation- i wanted to be thorough.
then, as i readied myself to begin rearranging, i suddenly felt a great sense of guilt. what had i done? this beautiful piece, these moving feelings and intense emotions, i had just reduced the entire page to several pieces of paper covered in meaningless garbage. i felt like i had gone into someone's home, stolen their baby, and pinned it down and dissected it, spreading all its parts on their floor, and yelling "i didn't mean to! it was so beautiful! it was only homework!" i looked at all my work and rearranging and felt disgusting, like i had destroyed something irreplacable. i read the original page again, trying to catch that original feeling, the holes it stuck in me- but still, i felt so plainly awful.
so i crumpled up my pages of dissection and stuffed them in my sweet coffee cup and threw them away. i read the page over again, and penciled in some thoughts on the copy, underlined particularly good words, and contemplated different ways to rearrange. but i just couldn't sit there any more with all the baby parts lying in front of me in a bloody mess. i'll do the assignment, and i might post it if any of you want to read it, but i just thought i would share this strange little experience.
it's changed my life in a very small way.
and i'm going to read this book.
<3>An American Dream page 59
of pink-tinted glasses was sitting in his car, the door open, holding
his temple, and groaning in a whining gurgling sound which be-
trayed the shoddy state of his internal plumbing.
But I had broken through the crowd and was about to kneel at
Deborah's body. An arm in a blue serge sleeve held me back.
"Officer, that's my wife."
The arm went down suddenly. "You better not look, mister"
There was nothing agreeable to see. She must have first struck
the pavement, and the nearest car had been almost at a halt before it
hit her. Perhaps it pushed the body a few feet. Now her limbs
had the used-up look of rope washed limp in the sea, and her
head was wedged beneath a tire. There was a man taking photo-
graphs, his strobe light going off each time with a mean crackling
hiss, and as I knelt, he stepped back and turned to someone else, a
doctor with a satchel in his hand, and said, "She's yours."
"All right, move the car back," the doctor said. Two policemen
near me pushed on the automobile and retired the front wheels a
foot before the car bumped gently into the car behind it. I knelt
ahead of the medical examiner and looked at her face. It was filthy
with a scrape of asphalt and tire marks. Just hald of her was
recognizable, for the side of her face which caught the tire was
swollen. She looked like a fat young girl. But trhe back of her head,
like a fruit gone rotten and lying in its juices, was the center of a
pond of coagulated blood near to a foot in diameter. I stayed between
the police photographer who was getting ready to take more pictures
and the medical examiner who was opening his satchel, and still
on my knees, touched my face to hers, being careful to catch some of
the blood on my hands, and even (as I nuzzled her hair with my
nose) a streak of two more on my cheeks. "Oh, baby," I said alound. It
might have been good to weep, but nothing of that sort was even
near. No, shock and stupor would be the best I could muster.
"Deborah," I said, and like an echo from the worst of one's past
came a clear sense of doing this before, of making love to some
Monday, January 23, 2006
digestion imperfection
i find that blogger, much like a beautiful woman, has such attractive and beauteous design that i can somehwat overlook its aformentioned annoyances and shortcomings. so here i am, to return to the blogging site that i am so good at complaining about.
i seem to have somewhat beaten this stupid stomach infection that i have- and i am fairly certain that's what it is. i managed to eat tuna and a plum earlier, and so far my intestines have yet to scream and thrash in protest. i believe that the key to these health problems is to find food that doesn't piss of any of my inner organs, and that has so far proven to evade all potential agony associated with my digestive system. the following things can not be ingested any longer:
1. paty [which usually isn't safe for any human being, anyway]
2. anything moderately greasy
3. anything heavy in sugar
4. anything with alot of fat, like mayonaise or salad dressing
5. pretty much any food that is moderately "tasty" "delicious" or "fucking amazing", my diet is now reduced to things that fall under the category of "fruit" "vegetable" or "cow dung"
*sigh* i feel like i am getting a 50 year old's stomach and little early. so now i have the beauty of a young metabolism, and not the stomach to take advantage of it. then again, maybe this is god's way of making me get to a healthy weight- by literally forcing me to eat healthy food. fuck god.
i want a cookie.
<3 gen
i seem to have somewhat beaten this stupid stomach infection that i have- and i am fairly certain that's what it is. i managed to eat tuna and a plum earlier, and so far my intestines have yet to scream and thrash in protest. i believe that the key to these health problems is to find food that doesn't piss of any of my inner organs, and that has so far proven to evade all potential agony associated with my digestive system. the following things can not be ingested any longer:
1. paty [which usually isn't safe for any human being, anyway]2. anything moderately greasy
3. anything heavy in sugar
4. anything with alot of fat, like mayonaise or salad dressing
5. pretty much any food that is moderately "tasty" "delicious" or "fucking amazing", my diet is now reduced to things that fall under the category of "fruit" "vegetable" or "cow dung"
*sigh* i feel like i am getting a 50 year old's stomach and little early. so now i have the beauty of a young metabolism, and not the stomach to take advantage of it. then again, maybe this is god's way of making me get to a healthy weight- by literally forcing me to eat healthy food. fuck god.
i want a cookie.
<3 gen
Sunday, January 22, 2006
endlessly irritating
why i have returned to this pathetic blogspot, i do not know. the navigtion is aggravatingly difficult, my profile picture continues to look horribly pixelated no matter what action i take to replace it, the design tools are unclear and fickle, and the publishing process, which other blogs seem to have no trouble making a point-and-click procedure, blogger manages to add a thousand more buttons to add to my annoyance.
i do not think that anything frustrates me so much as technology that tries to make things more "convenient" by adding ten thousand more options and patches and extensions which, in reality, just make everything ten thousand times more difficult and annoying to use. not to mention that it then proceeds to make me feel incredibly stupid.
that frustration then leads to me and my boyfriend arguing over nothing, but just annoyed by eachother's idiosyncracies, the sounds of our voice, the way we look at one another. we read into it way too much, we get frsutrated, i listen to music and pretend i don't just want to scream.
all of this just because this stupid god-forsaken website is overly difficult, firefox makes everything complicated and won't read my xanga html, and my boyfriend's keyboard is so insensitive that i have to practically bash it to pieces to make it recognize that i'm typing.
fuck technology and fuck blogger.
internet explorer, xanga, and old keyboards rock the world.
fuck.
<3 gen
i do not think that anything frustrates me so much as technology that tries to make things more "convenient" by adding ten thousand more options and patches and extensions which, in reality, just make everything ten thousand times more difficult and annoying to use. not to mention that it then proceeds to make me feel incredibly stupid.
that frustration then leads to me and my boyfriend arguing over nothing, but just annoyed by eachother's idiosyncracies, the sounds of our voice, the way we look at one another. we read into it way too much, we get frsutrated, i listen to music and pretend i don't just want to scream.
all of this just because this stupid god-forsaken website is overly difficult, firefox makes everything complicated and won't read my xanga html, and my boyfriend's keyboard is so insensitive that i have to practically bash it to pieces to make it recognize that i'm typing.
fuck technology and fuck blogger.
internet explorer, xanga, and old keyboards rock the world.
fuck.
<3 gen
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