The Night Swallow

[In a fog]

2007-09-21T09:06:00.000-04:00

So, for some fucking DUMB (but Speed-filled and wonderful) reason, I stayed up all. fucking. Night. Not finishing a massive paper or rescuing someone from suicidal depression. No... I reinspired Speed to enjoy RP by giving him a Khun character (which pleased me quite a bit) to go along with my haughty teen Khun, Caspian. Wow. Did we not even come up with this til, like, 3 am? That's correct. Was is amazing? Also correct. Will I go a total of WAY TOO MANY hours without sleep by the time I conk out IMMEDIATELY after my last class today? Correct, again. But, jeeze, was the horrible sleep deprivation worth every damn second? Cooorrect, ladies and gents. It was... fabulous.

The Khun Brood has been compared to the Godfather (movie) with Jessy as the Godfather (character). I don't remember the story well, just that.. totally /awesome/ comparison.

I've successfully drawn again, though my coloring skills fail. I can make animated avatars and things, which are fucking awesome, and. Yes. I have /glasses/ now (check out my facebook pic) and they're ohsoshmexy, but I've had a godawful headache since trading these for my contacts. I ended up with an almost-migraine, and found out that both Bricket /and/ Phil had them. Jeeze.

There's crazy fog right now. It's going away a little, but early this morning it was /crazy/. I was up and got a few glimpses at the window, and once there was enough light to see by, it was all.. WHITE. Nothing out there. I went walking in it before first class (which is boring and in a computer lab and allowing me to do this), and the oooohmystiquey compared with new-glasses-dizziness... That didn't help.

I havent slept. I'm twitchy and shivery and headachy and nauseous and feel very slightly like I have a fever. To reiterate what I said to Bricket: I am. A. Moron.

And Speed is my hero. My first genuine all-nighter (not going to sleep at, like.. 9 am, even) was spent with him. Char-planning, RPing, and oogling male models and pretty kitties.

<3 you too, Brix.

[I sorta think this is gonna screw me over..]

2007-09-18T04:21:00.000-04:00

If I were to say, 'I fucked with JD', would you go into a panic about what I've gotten myself into.. or just sorta laugh at me?

... I fucked with JD.

And now I'm just gonna fucking sleep, man.

[Bricket to the rescue]

2007-09-16T16:05:00.000-04:00

2 hours, 49 minutes.

I have no idea what I'm doing. Fortunately, Bricket seeeeems to.

ANGEL SPOO.

[3:13 and still stupid]

2007-09-16T03:13:00.000-04:00

I kept Phil up much later that I should have, RPing. Dark, twisty plots are the shiz, seriously.

Spent three or so hours surfing through Speed's FA gallery. He gets so much <3.

Logged into DA as /Johi/, for the first time since.. 2004? That sounds about right. 490 submissions between, like.. three or four people. And 18 messages. They were all the 'hot topics' stuff, too. My old, little-used DA got even less love than my current one.

15 hours, 42 minutes til the wedding is set to begin.

I bet Raz is gonna be late. And then leave before it's over. And I still have no idea what she's gonna wear, or what the ceremony is gonna be like. GAH.

[What I've failed to say yet]

2007-09-14T09:23:00.000-04:00

This is the grand total of foodstuffs I have in my room:

1 packet ramen noodles, chicken flavor
12 juices boxes, assorted flavors
3 miniature hershey bars
old socks

I'm being nagged by Sarah (roomie) to clean stuff this weekend. I'm thinking saturday, because sunday I'll be gnawed on by procrastination. I don't actually want to consider everything I have to do. Way behind on reading, which will of course come shit on my face in about three weeks, and fucking STAB me when midterms happen. A full-length short story (5-15 pages roughly) is due in a week, which doesn't worry me, but the lack of worry will turn into 'OMGIhavelessthatsixhourstowritethisall!' There's an essay due by 4 pm, and I'm halfway done. Bailey isn't having class, now that he's spending a few days on conferences, so I'll be spending that time hurrying to do this. I'd be smart to write it between my first class and second, but I'm sleep-deprived out of devotion to Speed, therefore, going to nap.

Today's my grandmother's birthday. 90 fucking years, man. She's unbelieveably tactless, but if I don't call her my mom will chew me out, to whatever extent. Still, not high on my list of priorities.

And... watches 28 Days Later last night, straight through, while huddled on Dan's bed, in his unfathomably COLD room. I was terrified. I got through it. I was on the verge of a heart attack for the rest of the night.

AND. Devoted two days to making a 'which Khun are you?' quiz. And it was great. Damn tiring, definitely don't wanna do that again, but.. what an accomplishment.

... 2 days, 10 hours, 19 minutes til Jessy's wedding.

[Conquerors is us]

2007-09-11T00:52:00.000-04:00

Player Title S Species Stat Idle Location
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Baukhain Figment. M Marten OOC 41s Jettekstan: The Rose Amphitheat
Caspian Hybridish M Cat DYN 13s Jettekstan: The Rose Amphitheat
Jessy QueenToBe F Cat DYN 0s Jettekstan: The Rose Amphitheat
Pashi Admiral. F Cat IDL 13s Jettekstan: The Rose Amphitheat
Eboriel Widowed F Cat DYN 56s Jettekstan: The Rose Amphitheat
Damien CortakNow M Cat DYN 12m Jettekstan: The Rose Amphitheat
Alexis Another F Cat IC 5m Jettekstan: The Rose Amphitheat
Koto Manwhore M Cat DYN 46s Jettekstan: The Rose Amphitheat
Baukhain_2 SonOfGod M Marten DYN 2m Jettekstan: The Rose Amphitheat
Natai LongDead F Cat OOC 24m The Underworld
Teigra BANNED~! F Cat DYN 2s Jettekstan: The Rose Amphitheat
Tobias Uh, what? M Cat IDL 50s Jettekstan: The Rose Amphitheat
Jirael MORMONism M Fox IDL 4m Jettekstan: The Rose Amphitheat
Merdez OldFogey M Fox ARG 20m Hiding from the world
Alexian Well,shit M Cat IDL 12s The Underworld
Boxy RAAUGHH!! F Cat OOC 13m The Underworld
Sebastian SuchABrat M Cat IC 8s Jettekstan: The Rose Amphitheat
Adrik IHATEJESS M Wildcat DYN 43s Jettekstan: The Rose Amphitheat
----------------------------------------------------- 09:51:35 PM - 09/10/07--

[Now /that's/ more like it]

2007-09-11T00:48:00.001-04:00

Player Title S Species Stat Idle Location
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jessy QueenToBe F Cat DYN 0s Jettekstan: The Rose Amphitheat
Pashi Admiral. F Cat IDL 24s Jettekstan: The Rose Amphitheat
----------------------------------------------------- 09:48:46 PM - 09/10/07--

[Things of great import]

2007-09-11T00:43:00.000-04:00

Player Title S Species Stat Idle Location
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pashi Admiral. F Cat IDL 31s Jettekstan: The Rose Amphitheat
Jessy QueenToBe F Cat DYN 0s Jettekstan: The Rose Amphitheat
Faith F Mouse IC 9s RW Abbey: Late Rose Garden
Josiah Brother M Mouse IC 3m RW Abbey: Late Rose Garden
----------------------------------------------------- 09:39:19 PM - 09/10/07--

I was oh-so-tempted to do a full-muck page and be all, 'JETTEKSTAN IS BETTER THAN REDWALL!!'

But I refrained.

It's now a bit past 12 am. Officially the 6th anniversary of September the Eleventh. Should I feel anything? Jeeze, I was 12. But, I'm a steadfast New Yorker. Therefore... yeah.

[And now things will go kaboomey]

2007-09-10T08:26:00.000-04:00

Why is a hot shower /really/ so hard to manage. Really, by all means, someone stuff me in a carwash and scorch all my damn skin off.

Optimistically.. that's actually the only damn thing I have to complain about.

Ebo's a widow, because I decided to pull her out and Phil allowed me to have Alex.. dead. Makes things much more interesting. We can now begin by making bets on how long before she goes well and truly INSANE. (When counting your cash, remember that the term 'insane' is always relative to her dear ol' mum.)

I'm really starting to crave the secret cow level of Diablo II. God, that was a great experience the first time.

[Kimpe should pay me for this]

2007-09-09T20:50:00.001-04:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EMoqKIFDD6s

Go watch.

=Tribute=

2007-09-09T13:35:00.000-04:00

Tribute (also, For ----, Born of Impatience)

We have our toes in the sand
And around us is something that died in its sleep
Alone, in turmoil and stale water.
Come on, darling, let me read your cards
Before they’re lifted by the whirling of some old fortune,
Something we lost a long time ago.
Shuffle, and it dissolves together
Complexities,
Mozart and double-chocolate cookies
Dropped like questions on your plate.
Wonderings and ponderings,
A wide array of –ings,
Looking out the window of a low-flying plane
At the black-streaked vastness of Galileo’s sky.
I’ll tell you, with a certain knowing tone,
Your life line resembles a mountain,
Soft and green,
The entrapment of my choosing.
We are as all the half-hearted pairs,
Writ in shallow ink, sprinkled with sand,
A dead language,
The kind with no purpose here.
Jill tumbled down, but Jack went up,
Into the sky, where the sparrows fly,
And a soft voice told him,
‘The moon is my mother.’
You and I remember those broken ways,
The once pagans,
And the future pagans,
Their dented gold idols,
Their blemished stone circles.
The moon, stiff with holiness,
Blue saints on her cheekbones;
She who stirs blood with salt,
A cup of each,
Until it spills over the black lip of her rage.
So where are we now?
At the edge of the world,
Skimming the surface of liquid freedom,
Facing east,
Facing the hazy line of a faltering horizon.
It whimpers promises:
Go, with many blessings,
Speak until morning
About people who used to think of you,
And the sensation of distance will fade
When the night does.
I’ll do it like you taught me,
Hold honey under my tongue
And stop knowing you,
And smile a secret smile
When you lick bullshit from my palm.
I see cups for you, venom and wine;
The Fool, as I’ve dubbed you,
Arms raised to a tower—
And then it falls.
We’re still wondering:
What if we could fly?
Falcons, unafraid,
Because gravity sucked away their modesty,
Swallows, who mock us in the night;
‘It is a sin, it is a sin!’
Choose graves over memories,
Thoughts instead of deeds,
Which will never lift us to the honor of an index,
Or seep our names into the chafed pages of psychology.
We are the sooth-sayers,
The book-burners,
Who will sell our souls for a story;
Who never continue it far enough.
A cigar is just a cigar,
A dream is just a dream,
And there is no shiny demon in the middle of the road,
No willows that weep or mornings that glory.
In a time of water and wonder you told me,
‘You too will be immortal’;
My wings melted,
And I was your deity in a teacup.
Somewhere at the seams,
You’re the same as what you made,
And I want to forget where that name came from;
I want it to be forever.
Murder and create,
But never indiffer,
Because I still think of you after nightmares,
I still ask, ‘are you sure you’re not dead?’
We’re not strangers, darling,
But what about them?
They see exiles,
Self-proclaimed dustbunnies,
Blue ink on our hands.
Fear is a reflection,
It sings lullabies.
Why don’t you sing to me anymore?
Golden gravel and something strumming,
Murmurings of prowess and wiles.
A warrior queen stands on the roof,
Her white-marble palace is beneath her,
Never caught in the shadow of something unworthy;
Except, maybe, a cloud.
We are the stealers of souls, in the dark;
We are the weavers of dreams, robed in white;
And the colors don’t mean anything.
Let’s go back, darling,
Back when everything was grand,
Back when the guillotine was still polished
When ‘groovy’ didn’t sound stupid,
Under your breath.
And let’s go back to that small space we had,
The sheets that didn’t stay and the secrets we carried,
Those few tender things that made me cry.
Are we a ‘we’ or are we an ‘us’?
And how do we know,
And why do we care?
And what do we want?
I spread pictures on your table,
Carve them under your eyelids,
And I tell you,
‘She wanted time, he wanted her,’
But why all this wanting, instead of taking?
Those childhood warnings still make sense,
Don’t look at the sun,
And don’t fly without pixie-dust.
So we’re through with our wanting and wondering,
And the flying and dying will have to be patient,
Because there’s still you and I, whatever we are.
To tell you I love you is hardly expressive
Of the soul-biting faith in rocks and almonds,
Of the way I trust you,
And how much I miss you.
There’s a moment of greatness in falling asleep
Knowing your face,
Which allows me my rituals.
We are the survivors of the inquisition,
Of the questions that reveal
And the endearments that stifle.
The satisfaction is really knowing that there is none,
No end to the wanting,
The missing or the rum.
There’s luck and chance and all things;
And the gamble doesn’t matter,
Or the numbers on the dice,
It’s just sweet to know I held it.
Reality isn’t the same as realism,
And realism is a bruise,
Marking me with knowledge;
Perfection is a waste,
And forever is really not.
And this wasn’t meant to be for you;
But maybe someday we’ll stand with our toes in the sand,
And look at the ocean,
And all of this will be my temperance, too.

[Tempation]

2007-09-08T13:29:00.000-04:00

Figures that I'd be completely unable to resist looking through old LJs and things. Wow, man, some of that stuff... And thank /god/ the 'johi' LJ was purged. Really, now.

I encountered one particular Nozama log (who remembers /that/?) that absolutely made me /laugh/. Echgod. Woke up my roomie. I think. Ish.

Also watched the first goddamn season of Red vs. Blue last night. That shit is.. the shit. And how verbose am /I/ today?

[Nausea like nothing else]

2007-09-06T19:24:00.000-04:00

As a follow-up to becoming reacquainted with Kimpe, I asked about, of all people Tom. Between that conversation, and tracking him down on LJ, I've learned that he is:

-in college
-married
-has a baby

... this isn't going over well with me. About four years ago Tom was one of my closest friends, and we were together for a short stint. He's only several years older than me, as well.

I don't have so much trouble with the marriage thing. Phil's engaged, and we all love Phil.

But Tom got married after the baby came. We can only assume he got his girlfriend knocked up, and was stuck with it.

I don't approve. I actually am really very.. grossed out. This doesn't bode well with me at /all/.

--

Follow up:

http://youtube.com/watch?v=GXuC6t6-VhA

2007-09-05T08:12:00.000-04:00

SOMEONE FIND ME
A HOT SHOWER.
RIGHT. NOW.

The air conditioning is fixed, when we no longer need it. And there's still no hot water first thing in the morning. I took a record 45-second shower and am now going to.. curl up.

[Days off /rule/]

2007-09-05T00:34:00.000-04:00

Today I have:

Become reacquainted with Kimpe.
Eaten only Honey Nut Cheerios and Ramen.
Had 1 1/2 fucking awesome RPs.
Joined Fur Affinity and received much love there.
Drawn an absolutely fabulous pic of Pashi and Jirael.
Made my printer work.
Only left the room for bathroom.. and the Ramen.

And this is fucking cool, too. NIN meets Ghost Busters:

http://www.gameamp.com/thingsthatrock/the_ghost_that_feeds-256.mp3

[Snog!]

2007-09-04T19:48:00.001-04:00

I'm.. awesome. Go look.

http://www.furaffinity.net/view/764412/

[Getitawayfromme!]

2007-09-04T14:57:00.001-04:00

http://ces.ca.uky.edu/shelby/images/hort/I%20Hickory%20Hoened%20Devil%203.jpg

[Artsy issues]

2007-09-03T16:19:00.000-04:00

I'm getting better at this drawing thing. Trouble? No scanner. So my recent posts looks relatively like crap. And now my camera doesn't like its rechargeable batteries, so it'll have about 5-10 minutes of power when they're fully charged. I guess four years (though not used all that time) is wearing down something. How.. annoying.

I.. love Khain. Baukhain I, that is.

[Anything else you'd like to do to me?]

2007-09-03T08:13:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I had a severe dip of mood. So.. uhg. I swear, if 'Tapeworm' (haha) hadn't gone well, I'd still be stuck in that miserable state. But it /did/ go well, with the oh-so-gentle nudging of Phil, Bricket and, to a much lesser extent, Theik. Hmm.

Side effects? I'm sure it has no relation, but.. the showers here are finicky. I need /heat/. This morning it wasn't /cold/, but it sure as hell wasn't hot either. I returned to my room, drippy and FREEZING.

I'M. SO. FUCKING. COLD.

=Tapeworm=

2007-09-03T01:22:00.000-04:00

=A shortshort assigned by Bailey. I haven't enjoyed writing this much in a while. But, /damn/, was it crazy. Took on the opinions of Phil, Theik, and Bricks, with contradictory results. This is the final outcome.=
--------------------------------------------------
In his second-floor sanctum he brought out the box, glossy black and peppered with his fingerprints. He slid off the ribbon, while she considered her two shrinking ice cubes. The hinge flicked open under his hand. Tabitha counted three diamonds, white gold for the band, and exhaled. “Can I touch it?” she ventured, terrified. Pride slid over him like rainwater, and he nodded. She took it in her palm.

“It’s pretty,” she managed, and hardly even that. “It’s just so pretty.” Now Lex studied it, the set and effulgence, while she leveled down her liquor. He had said the drink was celebratory, and mixed it with devotion. Her head swam; she liked that more than the taste. “Hey, go slowly,” he said, a caution to the lightweight. She finished and wanted another. He said, “I don’t think so, Tabby-cat.”

They sidled apart after 1 am. He had work, a ten minute walk to the bookstore. She lounged on her assigned futon into the afternoon. Halfway into his shift, with no risk of return, bare feet brought her across the hallway and into Lex’s bedroom. The ring was in a drawer; she had watched him put it away.

With the slide of cool metal she discovered, her finger was as wide around as Karen’s. It stayed in place; it was her triumph.

[After 1 am]

2007-09-03T01:11:00.000-04:00

Copy-pasting conversations, as a rule, isn't really very tactful. But.. yeah.

Theik: And, axe the "twisting tapeworm" line, and the "pride" line.
Theik: Too much.
Me: Er.
Me: I'm taking out some adjectives.
Me: It stretched through her, a tapeworm. Pride slid over him like rainwater, and he nodded. She took it in her palm.
Me: Better?
Theik: ...Take out the tapeworm line, entirely.
Theik: ...Just get rid of the rainwater line.
Theik: Trust me. Too, too much.
Me: I like them!
Theik: ...Too bad.
Theik: Get rid of them.
Theik: NOW.
Me: I'm putting my foot down.
Me: They stay.
Me: I think the excess adjectives/description were too much.
Theik: ...And, it's just bad metaphors.
Theik: They're awkward.
Theik: As hell.
Theik: This isn't verse, darlin'.
Theik: It's prose.
Me: Shortshorts are practically poetry.
Me: How is terror as a tapeworm a bad metaphor?
Theik: ...It's bad construction, and unncecessary.
Theik: What comes beforehand paints enough of a picture as is.
Me: I need something between 'terrified' and 'she took'
Theik: No, you don't.
Theik: It's fine.
Theik: Read it outloud.
Me: “Can I touch it?” she ventured, terrified. He nodded, and she took it in her palm.
Me: That works /just/ fine?
Me: I need a second opinion.
Theik: ...Ok. On the phone with my college professor friend. She agrees with me.
Me: ... not cool.
Theik: ...She was on the phone beforehand, darlin'.
Me: Do /not/ share my work.
Me: Unless you ask, and I say it's okay.
Me: Get me?
Theik: Johi, darlin'. I meant no offense.
Theik: But, please.
Theik: For the love of CHRIST.
Theik: Stop.
Theik: With the damn snotty proclomations.
Theik: I swear.
Theik: Do you NOT know me by now?
Me: Same question, dollface.
Me: You should just.. know better.
Theik: Fair! But, no more threats, yeah?
Me: That wasn't a threat.
Me: I said no 'or I'll..!'
Me: I just said don't fucking do it.
Theik: ...Same difference to me!
Me: Me saying very firmly to /not/ share my writing.. is a threat?
Theik: To my mind, yes.
Me: Deal with it.
Me: Anyway.
Me: The /other/ second opinion says keep the rainwater, nix the tapeworm.
Theik: ....And, your friend's stupid.
Me: Hey, fuck you.
Me: She's the writer I want to be.
Me: She's the reason I started writing to begin with.
Me: So, affectionately, go shove it.

Also.

Bricket: Yea, this is weird.
Me: What is?
Bricket: The conversation.
Bricket: If involves 'touching it' and 'tapeworm'.
Bricket: Definitely going down in the WTF books.

[A day of accomplishment - really]

2007-09-02T21:11:00.000-04:00

http://trojanthatcould.deviantart.com/art/Tailcurl-Colored-63950378

My first colored drawing of Jessy was an absolute flop. The inked version is considerably more pride-worthy.

There's no food in my room. And I've been watching House Season 3 for.. many, many hours.

[Down a road in Selinsgrove]

2007-09-01T20:09:00.000-04:00

I walked to Walmart. Actually, only as far as CVS, which is about 1 mile away rather than the 1.39. I convinced two girls from the aforementioned massive group to come along, so it was somewhat more bearable. Don't know why a 2-mile round-trip would make my neck and shoulders so.. painful.

Put more logs up on the LJ. Today I went digging through old ones, back a good three years or so. Tab-o seems to be a particular fan of them. She's now drawn this: http://tab-o.deviantart.com/art/The-Venin-Madwoman-63852554

Jessy is, as always, absolutely gorgeous.

[Lounging x2]

2007-09-01T02:23:00.000-04:00

Lay somewhat sprawled on Dan's floor again tonight. I stayed there for the duration of Hard Candy, which is such an excellent movie that the female lead is now on my 'hardcore list'. Then his other room-stayer, this chick Sarah who thinks nuzzling and caressing is a perfectly normal interaction for a guy and girl who each have other romantic interests.. she wanted to see a gory movie next, chose a zombie film, so I bowed out and came back to my room. The windows are now open, and it's /much/ nicer.

Something about holding a full conversation via text message.. I like. I definitely like that.

I also like that it's the weekend. I've survived my first week of college classes.

[Wake-up call]

2007-08-31T09:59:00.000-04:00

I woke up to Matt: "Shit, I didn't even see her there!" Because I did, indeed, spend the night strewn out on their floor. And what a pleasant, cool night it was. They two woke up at 6:30 or so, when Matt's bewilderment woke me up also. He said roughly, "Do you think she heard me?" to which I groggily replied, "You guys are jackasses." I inquired as to the time, went 'meh', and slept for another hour and a half.

But. I had neglected to bring my key with me on this little adventure, and my roomie was already gone to an 8 am class. I had to bother our RA, Paul, who made an appearance in nothing but boxers to come to my rescue. There's a minor fine for getting him to use the master key, only about a dollar. I should've tucked it in the waist of his boxers. That'd get me some points for guts.

[That's just... really, really bad.]

2007-08-31T02:30:00.000-04:00

I've spent the last six and a half hours in Dan's room, enjoying his breeze, watching football out the window, and trying to write a short, basic exercise for Bailey's class.

Four hours in.. had three paragraphs. Dan read it, rightfully declared it shit, and I started over.

Theik was no help at all in this matter; Phil simply wasn't available.

Seriously.. the first attempt was some of the worst writing I've done in many, many years. The second attempt, which is at least decent enough for me to be satisfied? About a guy who enters a 7-11, demands Slim Jim, and throws a mini-fit when he discovered there's none to be had. Very.. odd.

I've invaded Dan's room entirely. His room actually gets air, unlike mine, and is therefore somewhat tolerable. I'm about to return my computer to my room, then camp out on his floor. No joke whatsoever.

Dan, Dylan and I also had a several-hour-long discussion of movies. We camped out in collapseable chairs in front of the laundry room, talking about various topics; best this, favorite that, whatever. Too late to remember specifics. We then moved our chairs into the elevator, and continued the discussion while other people in the dorm building summoned the elevator, stared at us, and stood awkwardly in the confines while taken to their floor-o'-choice.

We /then/ decided to make it into a podcast, which Dylan is entirely equipted to make. We'll sit on one elevator or another, ride it up and down, and discuss a movie-topic; then ask anyone who comes on what their opinion is, also. This has great potential as a project.

And, finally.. I've just rented 'Gone With The Wind' from the library (which is three to four times more hot-and-disgusting than our dorm). I intend to watch it.. soon. Who the hell knows when I'll make the time, though?

One or the other of the guys in this room are going to trod on me tonight.

[I will now attempt to communicate in snorts and grunts.]

2007-08-30T10:23:00.000-04:00

Is unbearable heat enough to prompt my nose to clog up? The stuffiness sets of allergies? How.. uncool. It was sucky enough sleeping with the air all fucked, but I woke up this morning with my nose all out of whack. And of course the nose leads to the throat and the ears and all sorts of other grossness. Ech.

Bricket is gone. And I miss her.

[.. okay]

2007-08-29T11:36:00.000-04:00

The Captain's PokéPet

Teagan the level 81 Growlithe!

.. I don't know, man.

[What a mess]

2007-08-29T10:41:00.000-04:00

I think my roomie's getting genuinely irritated by the state of our room. Her stuff is safely within the range of "somewhat messy," like we filled out on the roommate-match sheets. My stuff has more or less the appearance of Chernobyl.

Woke up about 15 minutes before my first class, so I had to make an appearance while still ungroomed. Not that showering does any of us good for more than 45 minutes or so. The air conditioning in this dorm building, while functioning, has no strength for air circulation, nor the ability to cool said air. I have a convenient fan, which was aimed at my prone form all last night. How.. ick.

Reference the "ports o' call" and look at "I think you've had enough," which was my project all yesterday and will continue to be so for quite some time. Anyone remember those particcular events, like the Regents' wedding, Jessy's fight with Lesperance, the collapse of the Skull and Candle? I have quite a collection, and will post all the most maginificent logs that involve Jessy directly or in a roundabout fashion. And, of course, any new logs that surface. You can now all enjoy the bizarre courtship/relationship of Jessy and Jette.

I like my new schedule. See:

Honors Thought: 9-9:50 am, MWF - Library Rm. 209
Problems in Philosophy: 12:30-1:35 pm, MWF - Bogar Rm. 204
Introduction to Fiction: 3-4:05 pm, MWF - Seibert 106
Core Perspectives: 12:35-2:15 pm, Th - Fisher Rm. G17

And tuesday.. tuesday is completely off.

It's. So. Fucking. Hot.

[Request]

2007-08-28T01:24:00.000-04:00

Everyone who runs into Phil between now and August 5th, tell him 'good luck'. He's having to do battle with the GRE. I don't envy that boy.

.. but I love him! <3

=Surgeon General's Warning=

2007-08-28T00:35:00.000-04:00

=Slightly tweaked excerpt from a much longer story, in need of much revision. The original is titled "Immune".=
--------------------------------------------------------
I nearly sleep through New Years. When it’s growing dark the first of Austin’s other friends arrive, all a little older than me. They bring booze and toss their jackets on his bed. Someone turns on the TV, and for a while they drink and watch the first images of Times Square. I could walk there from where I live, the apartment where I grew up. Instead I’m across the river.

The crowd’s gathering. Somewhere overhead is confetti, tons and tons of it, which will linger in the gutter and the sidewalk cracks.

Someone sits on the couch, and now there’s no room to stretch out my legs. I’ve had twenty years of this, now. My age marks itself on the sides of buildings, in the back alleys where skinny girls smoke blunts they find on the ground. I’m eighteen and I’ve never smoked anything, of any sort. I’ve never been drunk, and I’ve never stood in that street on New Year’s Eve.

I’m not here for the reason they are. Austin’s going to get slarmed, with an array of synonyms added on, and these goofy collegiate friends are clustered in his apartment to join in that endeavor. That’s not my intention. He invited me and I waited in the cold to be picked up, to let someone else drive and sleep on someone else’s couch.

I detach myself from the couch’s new inhabitants and go into Austin’s room. Jackets are on the bed, bags piled around the base of it. The ceiling light doesn’t work, just the clip-on lamp which arcs over his desk, to illuminate his art; the empty cigarette boxes which, in their crushed pile to the side, stand as a silly metaphor for the layers of his genius.

Surgeon general’s warning: Smoking causes lung cancer, heart disease, emphysema, and may complicate pregnancy.

Surgeon general’s warning: Quitting smoking now greatly reduces serious risks to your health.

Surgeon general’s warning: Smoking by pregnant women may result in fetal injury, premature birth, and low birth weight.

Surgeon general’s warning: Smoking may rot out your teeth, blacken your lungs, squeeze your heart into a pulp, stain your hair, blind you, wrinkle and discolor your skin, and spread a collection of ulcers over half your stomach. It may make you infertile. It may form tumors on your pallet and tongue. It may leave a permanent, tarry residue on your fingers, your hands; those hands which define your greatness, which create art unrivaled and, on some lonely days, are your only reason for being alive. Smoking may kill you; but until then, every moment until you die from cancer or lucky old age, you’ll love the addiction the same way you love your hands.

Surgeon general’s warning: Cigarette smoke contains carbon monoxide.

One desk drawer has condoms. Another has colored pencils and his digital camera. I pluck a cigarette from the most recent box, the one still half-full of these contaminants to his brilliance. His lighter, the one I can find, is plain white. With the narrow tip of a sharpie, Austin etched his own face onto it, so when I light the cigarette I’m gazing morosely into his slanted eyes.

Austin laughs in the main room. They’re ignoring the rising celebration in New York, playing drinking games. They swallow vodka from the bottles and, with sheer enjoyment at the irony, down stale Sprite in shots.

I turn the desk lamp away from me, and contemplate the shadowed art pasted on the walls. I smoke; inside myself, I look naively for the potential of my own addiction.

[Not quite full-blown]

2007-08-28T00:02:00.000-04:00

Sunburn, that is. My god, how did it happen? I started getting vaguely itchy/hot-skinned this afternoon, with no explanation whatsoever. Another few minutes and it would've been a lot worse, I'm sure.

Classes are all sorted out. I have three on monday-wednesday-friday, one on thursday, and... tuesday? Nope. Nothing. Which means I'm entirely within my rights to.. stay up to all hours of the night. But what the hell would I do?

Tried watching 28 Days Later. Again. Success? About the same.

There's a total lunar eclipse eeeeearly in the morning. Still contemplating rolling out of bed, grabbing my camera, and taking a few shots before conking out again. I probably will do that. It'd be spiffy to show off, I think.

My creative writing professor? A one Tom Bailey (referrence the 'hardcore list'). To quote, not sure why this struck me:

"Fiction deepens feeling. If it doesn't deepen feeling, it isn't fiction."

Finally, to put to rest whatever rumors may be circulating (which may or may not have been initiated by me?), Jessy Venin is pregnant. Again. I'd prefer to not count her other offspring, or comment on who the father is...

Haha.

=Howl Poem=

2007-08-27T11:59:00.000-04:00

=Dug this out of my portfolio-of-sorts. Done for a class assignment about six months ago. A much shorter adaptation of 'Howl', by Allen Ginsberg.=
-------------------------------------------------------
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by seven-
second memories

lightheaded philosophers, dried and pressed between gold-
edged pages of disillusionment

elbow-deep in lovers, in caffeine, in the heated, barefoot
sentiment of adolescent miscarriages

who pose like whores, contemplating a high-watered
Armageddon, while murmuring sweetly to the nearest
bearded sleaze

who drink propaganda like vodka, the all-inclusive answer
of “I’ve dabbled” and tonguing scar tissue from
Hershey’s wrappers

flaunting addictions, skipping school to get a fix from self-
pity and giving blowjobs, which rise high and
shimmering in a sea of restless midnight cravings

who argue the meaning of a word, and the pronunciation,
and the flavor of the syllables, the flavor of bitten-down
nails and abused cuticles

singing songs that linger unknown on the insides of their
eyelids, profound and desiccated and magnetic

hiding condoms behind the covers of great novels, Moby
Dick and the Iliad, the condensed glory of time and
language

who should write great novels, about disgrace and arching
pearls of romance, about insomnia and Bostonian
angels lounging divine in gutter slime

who would rather get high and, afterward, die.

[First]

2007-08-26T15:54:00.000-04:00

Look, it's a blog! Compliments of Bricket, of course, who seems to be responsible for so many of the pretty things I encounter.

I'm in college! .. and there's so much to report, already.

Have been having trouble with my schedule and the Honors Program. Tomorrow's a complete mess. If I can keep it all more or less functional, it'll be a miracle out of high heaven.

Three days in, finally done with orientation, and I've received a grand total of 20something emails from my mum (combined of two inboxes) and about a dozen missed calls/messages. Most recently: she's proud of me, thinks I'm handling things well, and is therefore sending me a box of cookies.

I didn't move far enough away.