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Too weird to live and too rare to die
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[27 Apr 2008|03:02pm] |
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Neko Case - Favorite |
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I love our dorm laundry room. It has a cool concrete floor, and overpriced vending machines and it smells like clean sheets.
I just padded over there, leaving the sanctuary of our room to go out into the heatwave that's been melting campus over the last couple of days. 96 degrees. Probably peanuts to those who live almost anywhere else in the USA, but I don't do well with extreme heat. I'm well suited to California, because it's generally pretty mild. Compared to, say, Virginia summers. Dear God.
But yes, I padded over there and enjoyed standing in the soft, dark air for a few minutes, breathing in the clean sheet smell. I had a sweet, mournful song stuck in my head and it went well somehow with the smoothness of the soda machine and the hum of the dryers.
My hand was sweating with the metallic sweat you get from clutching small change in big heat. The labels of the drinks didn't look real, but after I thought that I didn't even know what I meant by it. I fed the coins in slowly, and my red credit climbed at a snail's pace: 10. 15. 20. 30. 35. and so on.
It was incredibly satisfying.
I got a coke. It tastes like poison sugar foam, but it's cold so I'm going to drink it.
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[15 Apr 2008|11:33pm] |
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Ode to Lindsey M
(with no apologies to anyone)
(especially you, Lindsey)
(Or people who think that poetry requires some sort of rhyming sequence)
(Or any rhythm at all)
I know a girl called Lindsey
I sometimes call her Mimsy
Which is a rude word across the pond
Which only makes it better
I know a girl called Lindsey
She dances up a frenzy
She's sexier than punk rock
But only very barely
I know a girl called Lindsey
She makes me smile a-plenty
She might end up a dentist
I'd let her give me nitrous oxide
I know a girl called Lindsey
She's really kind of naughty
Just ask her what sheets she has:
Black satin all the way
I know a girl called Lindsey
She likes to eat burritos
She had a kick ass piercing
And it wasn't visible when she was wearing clothes
I know a girl called Lindsey
Her hair is blonde and pretty
Her laughing is contagious
And she only has three fingers
I know a girl called Lindsey
She belongs in 1980
Or maybe 1990
Just some decade cooler than this
I know a girl called Lindsey
She's the coolest in my galaxy
She knows the slopes, she knows the books
I love her more than Pringles.
Which is a big deal. If you know me.
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[29 Nov 2007|12:19am] |
It is cold
I am feeling sad.
Not the empty kind of sad, but the full kind, damp and swollen. I'm shaky. Irrational.
Everything I want to say sounds over the top.
Everything I do say sounds over the top.
If I picture my thoughts, they resemble black vomit, wriggling around and swirling with flourescent colors.
I just want to destroy something.
But instead I shall carry on writing this paper, because that's what needs to happen. I rationed myself five minutes of squeaky crying on the floor cushions, and that has been and gone.
Goodnight
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[13 Sep 2007|09:33pm] |
I am so sick of the glassy eyed youth these days.
Don't people want pure art anymore?
"Instead of spending my time writing, or painting, or sitting under the trees. I'd rather dissect reviews on Pitchfork media, draw ironic doodles and then take pictures of myself under the trees, wearing American Apparal clothing and looking bored."
People, life is good to enjoy, not just to comment on.
It's year two y'all. Back at the 'mont. Rooming with Mimsey and Steviana.
I'm not apologising for lack of posts, I've had other stuff to do. Like watch re runs of series 1 of the Tribe. And sit in our swimming pool and drink tea.
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[28 Apr 2007|12:58pm] |
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Well my online pixies, it's been too long.
I'm sorry to anyone who might suspect I am dead. I am not, nor should I have given you that impression.
We're in the dorm kitchen. Lindsey is making a cake, I am typing merrily away and reading about Aqua on Wikipedia. Aparantly the lead singer was not only sleeping with Soren, but also Rene, hence the band's eventual split.
Last night we intended to go to IV, but only got as far as Butterfly Beach. It was a good time though. Aaryn got very drunk and spoke mostly in Spanish.
We are done with classes now. All that remains is my one final exam, in New Testament studies. Shouldn't be too hard, but I doubt I'll get an A in the class.
I can't believe we're so close to finishing. It seems like just yesterday I was standing in the doorway of a pocketsize room, clutching K-Mart bags filled with new towels, staring at this blonde babe who I would be living with for the next six months.
I'm really going to miss everyone over the summer. It's going to be strange living here, able to wander up to Westmont campus without anybody actually being here. Then come next year, some people are gonna be gone on vacation, some people are gonna be gone forever, some people are gonna be back.
Weirded. And tired too.
Tonight I'm seeing the honourable David Sedaris, live, here in SB.
It's gonna be grood.
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| 7 different girls |
[19 Mar 2007|09:17pm] |
Is it wrong that I'm walking backwards, looking straight at you, and thanking Heaven I'm not you?
There's something about your eyes that's making me shudder, you are so damn broken and no-one is going to fix you because broken girls are dime a dozen.
I still remember the cold, greasy fear in your eyes. Perpetually twitching towards us, as we stared at you like plastic flowers. Lord, you were so fat. Fat and disgusting, and you smelled bad. You must have known, right? Must have.
I wish I had cut your hair and let you pray for me.
I think you're stunningly beautiful.
The other girls hate you because you act like you don't want to be a girl. I know it's because you don't trust girls, but lady, have some dignity. Pull up your shirt, stop bouncing the basketball and show us you have eggs, not seeds.
I want to meet you, but I'm afraid you wouldn't think I was cool. Your words are smart.
How can one person be so on-the-mark, so clever, so perceptive...and so naive?
When we first met, I thought you were trashy. Now I know you a little better, now we've hung out some, hugged, talked etc, I think you're REALLY trashy.
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[02 Mar 2007|10:18pm] |
Love
Love
Love
da da da
Love
Love
Love
da da da
We're going to a par-T
At the Westmont Carpenteria house.
I'm dressed up like a 1970's cheerleader. Kind of. I'm wearing Lindsey's shorts and headband, Rebecca's long socks...everything else is mine.
I'm gonna get there and going to be weird. Watching Westmont kids party is like...I don't even know. Dogs partying?
There's always one person who is weirdly drunk. And sometimes it's the same kid who you see shaking the tambourine for worship...or you lock eyes with across the salad bar...and it's just weird...they're collapsing on people slurring "shiiiitt....idon't....i dont even KNOW. shut UP. leave me....leave me....the fuu...the...SHUT UP I"M NOT DRUNK"
Tension in the room.
THIS is when being in England would be so much easier. Noone can get pissed if it's just the pub. You know...if you don't want to go with one group to the pub, you go to a different pub. No lifts, no designated drivers, no stress.
Mikey just randomly arrived, like the party leech he is.
"Um...so what are the plans for tonight?"
THERE ARE NO PLANS
NOT FOR YOU
YOU SLACK JAWED
CHEAP ASS
FUN SUCKING
LEECH BOY
*sigh*
Let's get...physical
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[22 Feb 2007|09:15pm] |
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Things I don't like very much right at this very second
Rotton tastebuds
Paranoia
When my ass sticks to a chair
When I hug somebody and some of my makeup comes off on their clothes
Things I actually like a great deal
Rain
Green tea
Dry roasted peanuts
Cristiana's gag glasses
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[19 Feb 2007|04:21pm] |
Everyone but me is recovering from the tequila fiesta that occured last night between the hours of 10pm and Lord knows what.
The reason I am not recovering, is that there is nothing for me to be recovering from. I behaved myself, except for crawling out on to the roof and then slipping and falling in The Biggest Puddle in the Whole World.
We are on day three of four day, and I am wearing very comfy wumfy clothes. Which can be shortened to simply I AM WUMFY.
Les pantalons wumfyesque.
Killin me softly with his song
Killin me
softly
with his fists and a piece of wood
or
with a candlestick
In the Billiard Room.
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[21 Jan 2007|04:58pm] |
What did you do on Friday night?
Oh, that's cool.
Me?
Oh nothing special.
I only took an impromptu visit to LA
And scampered around HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD with four of my good friends.
And we only got approached by various nutters, including an 8 foot tall demon who totally chatted me up.
And then we only got interviewed by a celebrity host for a national TV show.
Eric and I had a competition, whoever walked over the best stars on the Blvd got the most points. I won, cos he kept getting unheard of stars of old time radio, and I got Johnny Depp and Samuel L Jackson.
He almost got molested by a man dressed as a whoopie cushion.
It was a blast.
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[07 Jan 2007|07:41pm] |
I'm eating a Disney lollie. The stick is very superfluous.
Grrrrrr
I'm feeling ansty
bored
fiery
breathless.
I just want to dirty dance. In a heaving, hot, packed, sweaty club.
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[29 Dec 2006|11:08am] |
It has been a while.
I just sneezed, with papaya in my mouth. None of it flew out.
Isabel is wrapped up on the couch, shouting about how ill she is.
Anais Mitchell is singing about how rome fell.
"I'm READING about how Rome fell. You're just listening to some nobody sing about it! They didn't wear ROCK AND ROLL SHOES. They let fish ferment in the sun covered in salt! YOU KNOW NOTHING. I KNOW ALL. I AM THE ALL KNOWING BUG"
Isabel.
Christmas was nice. We sat by the fire and let the cement between the family melt and reharden to fill the new cracks, to accomodate all recent traumas.
I got Amelie on DVD, some new clothes, money etc.
I leave tomorrow for San Diego, I'm spending New Year's with Lindsmaster Flex and her family and friends.
Heather, remember last year's New Year's? All the chocolates and futurama, and your door breaking? And little whatshisname whiting just before the countdown?
Good Times.
Yay, Elton John
Happy New Year all
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[01 Dec 2006|03:12am] |
It's 2:04
I have to be up in 6 hours to give a History presentation.
Just thought I'd put that out there y'know.
Yeah.
IT'S A WEEK TIL MILT AND CASSIE COME HERE
WAAAAAAAAAAH
What's new? Sat with Drew, Marshall and mes girls at dinner this evening. Drew silently pursuaded Lindsey to salt Marshall's shoulders while he wasn't looking. Cue Marshall "Are you...SALTING me?!"
Funniest moment of the day.
I should point out this was followed by him, completely straight faced, dumping about half the container into her lap.
After meeting with my history group to work out which element of the Reagan doctrine I was supposed to be checking out and taking notes on, I went back to our cave (dorm) and got straight to work (I watched Regina Spektor music videos and old Reeves and Mortimer comedy clips on YouTube and researched Japanese horror films on Wikipedia). Eventually I moved across the hallway in the VAIN hope of getting more work done there. After 20 minutes my entire research had amounted to a small doodle in the upper left hand corner of the page. Of Elvis. With an octopus body. An Octo-Elvis.
Garaarraradsrarrrrasdlklkd;ldl;;lasda;lsdkddjdjdjjd
Heather I just read your very sweet LJ post from a few days ago. Hon I miss you too, your bright eyes and 'HA' laugh and pert breasts. And your personality. I suppose. That green letter you wrote me is in my special drawer (I keep it between my breasts). I love you very much.
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[30 Nov 2006|12:08am] |
It's actually a cold night.
This is how far I've come
It's November, and cold enough that I have to wear actual pants in our room. And I'm surprised.
What?
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[16 Nov 2006|10:18pm] |
Quick update
- I am eating a cherry lollipop
- My tumor is benign
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[08 Nov 2006|01:33am] |
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Billie Holiday |
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This morning after Anthropology, Lindsey and I went for a jog.
We ran the two miles from Butterfly to East Beach, the sun was electric in a perfect blue sky.
Skirting round a red-golden cliff, I hopped from one ocean smoothed boulder to another, scaring the sandpipers and splashing through the surf.
Amy's iPod supplied the Beach Boys and various dancy tracks to match the beat of bare feet on warm sand.
I ran in a sports bra and shorts.
It was blissful relief to dive into the clear waters of the Pacific afterwards.
IT'S NOVEMBER
I LOVE YOU CALIFORNIA
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[02 Nov 2006|09:39pm] |
This can only be a brief entry, because I am supposed to be studying for history. I have a test tomorrow morning. Blech.
But nonetheless I felt I needed to update. We are now tongue-deep in November, the days are actually cooling down a tiny amount, and the nights a great deal. The sky is as bright a blue as ever, but I actually need a hoodie when walking to the DC in the evenings.
Lindsey is currently sat on our newest dorm purchase, a delicious black fake fur throw, aptly christened The Sex Blanket by me. On telling people in an excited tone of voice about The Sex Blanket, we mostly got a lot of confused raised eyebrows. However, on seeing it, they couldn't help but roll around on it. Sensuality seems to ooze out of it, like a black panther. Put one hand on it and Barry White stars crooning from beyond the big fat grave.
She is on the phone to her newest male, Mike. He seems a good sort, particularly as he drove us around on Saturday night, looking for the elusive and possibly non-existant "best halloween party ever". We ended up in some guy's garage. But it was ok.
Moving on. My history studying is actually incredibly depressing, and world record breakingly boring, because I can't go into detail with anything, having left this particular set of revision up until two days before the test. I studied earlier, but that sort of dissolved after 45 minutes into me reading about the Marquis de Sade on Wikipedia whilst eating Pixi Stix. So yeah.
"My Hinometer is going up just lying on this blanket"
"It's true"
The Hinometer is another new addition to our room, though this one was not purchased, but born out of Lindsey's and my own perverted minds, and delivered by my fair hands. It is a measuring scale, not unlike the one down the road that enlightens us to the likeliness of our school burning down in a forest fire.
This one, however, lets the viewers know the level of the need for booty/hiney not only of Lindsey and me, but also of Cristiana and Amy - two girls down the hall. The scale reads from "Frosty" at the bottom to "Life threatening" at the top.
Yes, we do change our status. Usually every day.
Yes, we are that tragic and frustrated.
No, you can't be added to it.
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[22 Oct 2006|06:43pm] |
So after briefly cooling down for a week or two, the weather has heated back up again. Voila. Summer, round 2.
Nevertheless, this weekend has been very exciting. Friday night looked set to be on the uninteresting side...we were sort of kicking around the dorm trying to think of something to do. However, one Level One tarting up later, we boarded the shuttle along with Josh, Nate, Justin, Brian, Davis, Joel, Tim, Amanda and The Other Lindsey and headed off to State Street. A brief dining in Chipotle occured, then we decided to try out downtown Santa Barbara's only (and fairly upmarket) hookah bar.
In the end we had a sweet-ass time, despite the managements best efforts to find us guilty of something. We sat around a stone circular table with a fire in the middle of it (which we became grateful for once the night started getting chilly) and smoked two hookahs (one strawberry, one rose+melon) between the then 9 of us: the rest of the group had gone to seek excitement elsewhere in the form of jumping off the pier; they found us again later.
It was lung-destroyingly good fun, particularly when we started doing blow-back/shotgunning (depending on which side of the Atlantic you are reading this from).
Riding the shuttle home again, many hours later, we all squeezed in - everyone sat on each other's laps - and sang songs and made innuendos, as college students are wont to do.
Yesterday Lindsey's friend came up to visit for the day. His name is Loren and he is an art student. They traipsed off to adventure around town during the afternoon, but we joined forces over cups of cereal in the DC and planned our night's adventures. One Level Three tarting up later we got in his car and sped to Isla Vista, where we waited for the night to heat up (figuratively) in a little Mexican joint. Later we spent about an hour looking for whatever party the already largely inebriated population were wandering towards. Difficult, when you consider that the guy you are following could as easily be looking for his next rape victim as he could a houseparty. There is just no way of telling in I.V.
Eventually we found the famed Bob Marley house, so called because it has a giant picture of Bob Marley painted on the front. Some semi-cheesy underground hip hop group had set up base in the yard out front, and it slowly became a party of about 200 kids spilling out into the street and houses next door. We jiggled to their generic rhymes and enjoyed watching a completely wasted Justin Miller hit on one unattractive girl after another. And watch Reed persistantly trying to dirty dance a girl that it was fairly obvious couldn't care less. I introduced myself to a fellow who turned out to be from Ealing, which was nice. We talked about England, and shared in the not so private joke that is Hull. It was beaut.
Anyway. I'm signing off there for now, giving you a chance to let your imaginations fill in the end of the night.
Luff.
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[07 Oct 2006|03:08pm] |
Once again, Livejournal takes the place of Aspirin as a cure to a wild night now.
Actually, screw it. I'm not replacing Aspirin with anything. Excuse me.
*Downs some pills*
Better.
Last night was a crazier night than most for the girls in 323.
It started fairly tame, we went to the 20th annual Californian avocado festival with our friend Geoff. Lots of guacamole and reggae. Beautiful golden full moon.
Coming back to Westmont, we got randomly called upon by some people in the Page parking lot, who asked us if we wanted to go to Isla Vista with them.
Isla Vista is where the students and poor people live, and it is pretty much nothing but houseparties and patrolling police cars as far as the eye can see.
You know in every teen movie, there is the "party scene" where the camera pans out over a street, and you see party people all strolling along in a big gang of hormones, carrying kegs, heading in the direction of loud music? And there's always a couple who frolic past, and some kid holding bottles of beer in his pockets, and some "grungers" whizz past on skateboards? And at the party there is some random band playing (in the movies it is actually a very well known band, but everyone pretends like they haven't heard of "Reel Big Fish" or "Blink 182" and carry on bouncing away) and there are couples making out graphically on a worn out sofa outside some sliding doors? And maybe the camera pans past some frat houses, and there are bras hanging from the trees outside, and girls in cowboy hats teetering in a line to get in to watch Thad totally hit the keg for the third time tonight?
IT WAS EXACTLY LIKE THAT
IN EVERY SINGLE WAY
It was very weird.
I'm tired.
zzzzzzzz
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[27 Sep 2006|09:16pm] |
Some pictures from the other night.
Notice my early morning face you all know so well.
And the awesome sunrise.
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