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rita's [bitter]sweet nothings

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ana tomical [19 May 2005|01:16am]
...she took a deep breath with her whole body. her lungs did a little leap. the room was small and the only light was this red hot sort with black at it's edges bleeding into the shadows. or maybe that was just the blood that her veins were rushing to the surface of her skin, her fingertips, and her face. altering her eyesight. altering her perception of light and dark, black and white, love and hate. making everything dim and glow at the same time. making her fingers feel like delicate needles. why is it that when that certain someone is close by your whole body's eco system is set off? little hungry dying things inside you go scattering with no where to go, while that big greedy knot of an organ in your chest slurps up any nourishment to be had. your heart beat is illegible morse code. your knuckles stiffen and become ripe for cracking at an unnatural rate. she inhaled again. smoke. the source was unsure. wax. nicotine. patchouli. she felt her body become a tiny polluted universe. with black smoke swirling in her stomach. making its way into her ventricles and arteries and hidden chambers. at that moment she knew she would swallow fire for him. hemorrage. she knew it when she pictures his bones like ivory carved under his skin. when she sees him on the pink veiny insides of her eyelids. and tonight, when she felt a tear slide down the back of her throat and down her spine. she licked her lips. all she could taste was the milky transparent artificial strawberry flavor that stuck to her lips. it had to be the lonliest taste she'd ever known. lonliness. obsession. love. maybe they are the same thing in the end she thought. when their pearly opaque skins have been peeled away like an onion. when the tears have been cried...[r.m.s]

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puo dirmi dov'è la stazione ferroviaria? [18 May 2005|10:51pm]
tomorrow at two in the afternoon i leave for rome. i feel a little strange all of the sudden for deciding to put my life on hold for more than a month to stay in italy. maybe not strange, just anxious. but i know that now that ive finished school and am sort of inbetween jobs and have this little bit of money saved, this is the time to go. if it's not now, it's never. i'm happy i get to see my brother again. i'm bringing him sour patch kids and cinnamon toast crunch and bubblicious becuase he cant get that stuff in the little sparse grocery stores there. i told him i will clean and decorate his apartment. he does too many sidejobs. he works full time at the university and on the side he sets up computer systems for small businesses. then when the media flocked more than ever to rome to cover the pope mess and he started doing jobs for cnn. i am proud of him though. i hope to come home with something interesting on my resume. and my website up and functioning. i have the domain name and design. now i just need to organize it. i plan to go to the english congregation, but i also plan to speak better italian. i will be in rome. venice. florence. sicily. germany. my mom is coming for a week. and were going to go see da vincis and caravaggios and botticellis at the uffizi museum. and europe's largest flea market. see my wonderful nona in sicily, she lives in ucria. a tiny town with a tiny crumbling plaster church as its center. she's one of those old ladies with really long, strong gray hair. she wears it down in a braid or wrapped around her like a crown. she lives in a three story apartment, but the two top levels are pretty much just two bedrooms on top of each other with balconys and climbing vines off them. she uses a concrete washboard that is built into the cobblestone street outside her front door...


more later. now i dream.

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desastre natural... [17 May 2005|12:03pm]
i'm pretty sure using a self tanner/bronzer goes against alot of what i believe in. it's fake. it makes me look like i actually spend a considerable amount of time in the sun [big ol lie]. it dyes your skin, something that should probably never be done. i mean it's the inverse action of lightening your skin. does this make me as insane as michael jackson? i mean really whats the difference? should i bathe in oxy clean tonight? nah. i'll stick with this chemically enhanced glow. my brother once told me i look scary, like i eat babies. not no more. the babies will flock to me more than ever! you just watch. and no, by 'babies' i dont mean pre-pubescent boys who want to have sleepovers in my bed with me thankyouverymuch.

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something to remember. and something to forget [14 May 2005|11:11am]
i got home last night around two. couldnt fall asleep till four. i zombie watched tv. i can't believe one of the backstreet boys is belting it out on a white piano in their new video. what is this world coming to? also i can't believe the dirty evil producers there must be thriving out there who are making millions off of shows like elimidate. but im sure most likely they are hip and humane and just wise enough to pull the masses along on this gratuitous massacre of dating. my eyes bleed. one more thing. i can't believe burt reynolds is still in a large portion of movies played on television at those sleepless ungodly hours.
so many things in life are unsure. important, priceless, make you or break you things. people change from day to night. love can be feeble. but. you can count on bad latenight tv forever and ever.

oh yes and i can't believe i had such a great night last night. before the jon tesh wannabe backstreet boy. before the serial dating. before burt.
weeeeeee. life is a bowl of dark pitted cherries soaked in mystery red juice also known as maraschino.

today i drive two hours to the farmland ridden rural abyss that inhabits southern new jersey. i'm going to a funeral for this old man i knew as a kid.
his wife stella is still alive, but very old. i havent seen her in a long time. she wears saltwater pearls and red lipstick and everything polyester. she knows theocratic history like no body i have ever met. in their backyard they had lots of big smelly chicken coops. the chickens were always extra nasty and dirty and always missing feathers or having sex or pecking away at each other. but him and stella used to let me pick white and brown and tanned eggs from the coops. and my mom would make us eggs for breakfast for dinner. because we were poor. because in my lovely unformed mind, breakfast for dinner had to be so much more special than just a regular boring dinner. sigh.

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the power of orange knickers [13 May 2005|11:54am]
on any given day i have the dreadful ability to wake up as one of two completely different beasts. most days i wake up feeling light and airy and wrapped in cotton. the day is always earlier than it feels. i cant imagine why the lazy world would want to keep sleeping at a times like this. the sun flares up through my window panes. i could be setting off to sea. life is a matisse painting minus the flying fat people. but to my horror there are the days i wake up feeling like a mack truck hit me on some dark davidlynchesque highway in my dreams. like i was put through pink floyd's human meat grinder and my billions of molecules were carelessly attempted to be pieced back together. like no one would notice. but how can i not when my guts and desires and ideas and fears are so much more tangled up then the day before. and even more then the day after most likely. i'm sweaty and everything is humid. bound in burlap and there is lead hardening in my veins. moving is harder then it should be. it doesnt make sense. it's not the flu. it's not depression. it's not lovesick. it's just temporary. and just about 8.5 percent of my existance. so that's ok.
most days birds sing though. like today.

..... last week i sang with a real live jazz band at the berkeley cateret hotel. it's this beautiful old hotel in asbury park. even if it is a little run down, i still think its decadent. and now there is this seed in me that wants to make music on kazoos and plastic toy pianos and harmonicas and give it all i have even if sounds less than sub par. a little violin would be nice. im ready. here i am. hello GarageBand.
but amazing and unbelievably and above all, i will be in rome in less than a week. to be continued....

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we shall walk through the valley [26 Apr 2005|02:33am]

pasdesilence:When did you first decide to become a photographer?

ultrari462: i was just a kid when i somehow got hold of this photography book, family of man.

it’s this really broad collection of photos of the human race around the world experiencing all these subtle and not so subtle everyday things.  a couple kissing in tall grass. child birth.  a soldier dying. funerals. many of the photos have quotes or scriptures to accompany them. i didn’t know much of anything about love or sex or birth or death but I knew it was the one most powerful, articulate, genius thing i had seen up to that point. it was a paper back edition and the pages were yellowed and brittle, but those photographs were just as important to me as if i was an art critic looking up at them while they were four feet high at the exhibit on its opening day at moma in 1955. i knew there was some sort of tangible magic behind it all and i wanted to hold it. i was probably around ten and i had this plastic 35mm yellow camera and i shot my first roll of film of this cute, fat puerto rican baby in a play pen outside my family’s apartment at dusk. but the pictures didn’t come out. no one i knew could help help me. i remember asking my mom about it and her having nothing really to say about it. but that just made me hungry and greedy and angry and excited to learn more. it was this big mystery to my little mind, but i knew there was something simple and pure about it that i needed to discover.

pasdesilence: Art seems to be a big part of your life, what or who seems to be a big influence on your artistic sensibility?

ultrari462: a fault of mine is that i become obsessed and overwhelmed with pretty much every aspect of life. i think literature has a big influence on a lot of my ideas. i'm a visual person foremost, but i do feel writing is just as powerful of an apparatus of creative expression. lush, purple prose can set my heart beating just as any image or the touch of a hand ever could. so many photographers intrigue me. but the first photographers to reach me were probably diane arbus and weegee, two new york city photographers who took pictures of ugly things but in a way that made you want to look at them for a long time. he made murder scenes look religious. and she made wealthy, crazy fifth avenue ladies with caked on makeup look gorgeous in their own right. but it’s the small, random, real things throughout my life that really influence everything i do and who i am. from my past or present, i feel like it all blends together in this big mural of my life. flashing images of all of these memories. long car rides in backseat of station wagons looking out the window, pre-raphaelite art, unsolved mysteries, falling off my bike and putting holes in my knees, an old hotel in the afternoon,  playing naked in a kiddie pool, eating honeysuckles, hearing my dads records for the first time, finding a dead mouse under my bed, walking home from school and noticing the stark difference between untouched white snow and the desecrated dirty snow, the nosebleeds i would get everyday in elementary school, swimming in lakes at night, how a kiss tastes, the way cars on a freeway and the crashing waves of the ocean sound the same at certain moments, the flecks of red in someone’s hair in the sun. i don’t really know how to describe it all. everything is just so visceral.

pasdesilence: What about your childhood did you most enjoy and how did that affect your development into the woman you are?

ultrari462: i enjoyed that feeling of permanence, perceived anyway. the feeling that there was no other place to be in the world other than right here, right now. i don’t think i will ever feel that again. but i think that’s what a lot of adults strive for their whole lives. that feeling of total contentment and permanence. with their jobs. their lovers.  i think it’s funny and maddening to think we all might have already had it to begin with, before we considered the big messy picture of it all. i also enjoyed those rare in between moments when your a kid and realize how nothing is how it seems and life is so much more sad, more beautiful than you ever imagined. when i was kid my parents took me to see a 3d viewing of alfred hitchcock’s the birds. i was probably too young to see it and it scared me pretty bad. the killer birds flying towards my face which i covered with sweaty hands.  my parents laughed and told me everything was ok. third dimension? my six year old mind didn’t know anything about that a third dimension, but i knew things were much more complex than i was aware of and i wanted to figure it all out. my parents innocently took me and my brother to really bad, really kitschy attractions when we were kids, and they didn’t even realize it. lots of morbidly educational wax museums dedicated to the torture of christians and indians and slaves. i remember this one really hot summer day my parent’s took me and my brother while we were still really young to the county fair. in this small little white box of a trailer there was supposedly the world’s smallest woman. for some reason my parents paid the fifty cents or whatever it was and took us on the ramp into the trailer. and there in a plexiglass bulletproof box was this tiny old woman in a tiny armchair watching family ties. that was one of those turning points for me. when i realized there were humans out there who maybe had these really meaningless unfulfilled existences. i think it’s possible i am one of the last generations to see a scene like that in my childhood and that’s a good thing. also i enjoyed the sheer indulgence that is ubiquitous with childhood. eating three bowls of ice cream.

watching the same tired vhs movie thirty times in one week. i still hold onto a lot of that indulgence i admit. for example, how this answer is far too long and never ending…

pasdesilence: In retrospect, what life lessons did you learn from your time in california?

ultrari462: i gained a broader definition of appreciation for people. and maybe even more than that, myself.

pasdesilence: What do you want to be remembered for in life?

ultrari462: for being really loving and fanciful but also smart enough and faithful enough to make things work somehow.

 

this is me and pasdesilence in our roles playing adults doing interviews. but i admit, the above is all true. and incase you didn't notice, i got really lazy towards the end...

 

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just act like it's nothing. just nod and smile at him [24 Apr 2005|11:50pm]
note to self. be prepared for people to think i'm dating an older man when i go somewhere alone with my dad. to a diner. to the dmv. anywhere. this happens often. even with his crutches, people double take. i mean, i would date a cripple. but an old cripple. i dont think so. turn around pervs. also, when i hold hands and/or hug my mom while we are walking in public, i'm pretty sure people think we are lesbians. sometimes it really isn’t fun being an adult. especially when you forget that you are one. don't judge me. the scene at my house right now is my dad trying to get his american citizenship but it's getting complicated because of when he was arrested for being an illegal immigrant in the late seventies and had to spend three days in jail in brooklyn. aw. i hope he can get it. i went to party friday night at my friend’s apartment in paterson. i saw alot of people i haven’t in a long time. some new ones too. i successfully opened my first bottle of wine without looking like a retard trying to murder some unfortunate inanimate object. i think it’s a really satisfying thing now that i know how to do it correctly. pop. yesterday i went to the hospital thrift store and i filled a whole paper bag with stuff for four dollars. including dark green velvet drapes. lots of old man golf shorts just the perfect size. complete alice in wonderland sheets from atleast the fifties. not the disney version. i love them. today i went to my sunday meeting for the first time in awhile. i have been visiting old congregations or friends congregations for a lot of sunday meetings lately, trying to see people i haven't seen in so long. i know i’m still catching up from moving back from california. ive been taking care of my neighbor’s dog while she has been away. i hate large dogs. those oversized vomit bags. and even if the dog is sweet and stupid and sort of hard to hate, they will still maul the female crotch and drool and leave wet spots on your clothes…
enough about all that, the most exciting thing right now is my new computer. ibook g4 14 inch.  i am waiting patiently for it to arrive. it's so close i can feel the polycarbonate plastic and  internal magnesium frame under my fingers. i am going to name her.

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diet coke with lemon is like lemonade that has been polluted. and its angry and it bites. [20 Apr 2005|12:12am]
i shot a wedding today with a photographer friend of mine. i hate most everything about american weddings. but even with a bride and groom who met on msn messenger and a cleopatra/african/royalty themed wedding, it was still all somehow endearing in it's own way. i want my cynicism back. maybe i never had it to start with. such a flawed brooding romantic.
ooh a huge group of red hat society ladies were having a party where the wedding was. ive never seen so many happy plump old women in one place. they were definitely the best (um or worst) dressed red hatters ive ever seen. even their clothing was made out of fabrics with prints of the exact red and purple hats they were wearing on their heads. how do they do that? i should post the photo i took of them...but i think i must sleep now so i can go to the gym tomorrow really early before work and school. i have been trying painfully hard to go with every stagnant molecule in my body. and actually go up hill on the elliptical machine. but i still watch holocaust documentaries on the history channel and barely break a sweat while working out. i can't help that. i'm sorry.

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[15 Apr 2005|12:57am]

this weekend i will be working on a paper on dying stars for astronomy. movie night on friday with a friend. seeing rod stewart saturday with my mom in atlantic city. my dad was her date but out of nowhere he doesn't feel like hobbling to the show on crutches i guess. even though just the other day i caught him trying to do yard work dragging only one crutch around in the dirt. what a scene. bless him. anyway, i offered to go to the show. what sort of crowd is at a show like that? oh the horroriffic possibilities. i'm a little brain dead tonight...so i turn to ebay. i want this evil nurse dress, knickers, and this corset. i have wanted one of those old pink industrial strengh corsets for a long time. i should just buy one already. maybe. out of nowhere and for the record i think it is true that once you leave your childhood home, it will never feel quite the same again to be there. and no matter where i call home in the future, there will always be something missing. i think that's because i just want it all. and i really do believe i can fit it all into my heart at one time. even though it is geographically impossible. i lost that blissful content feeling of home a long time ago. but i have gained more than i have lost. and i might even love my parents [& friends] more then ever, if that is possible. i also am openly declaring that i want to see the new house of wax. i have a long history with wax museums, so maybe that can justify it. oh yea and paris hilton is growing on me finally. like a bad rash. like the new marilyn. i'm through with my confessions. goodnight.

 

the air was blue, you could hold it in your hand, blue
remember me, i once told you and i tried to
(so) sad to realise that nothing lasts forever
golden heart, you'll always be a child

we cried as we kissed - it was too new
we died and we lived - it was too new
too strong still too much

when you were a child unhappiness took the place of dreams
dreams are like water, colourless and dangerous
without the strength to love, way beyond fear
you could care less if you could care at all

we cried as we kissed - it was too new
we died and we lived - it was too new
too strong still too much
[this mortal coil]

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easy like sunday morning [11 Apr 2005|11:46pm]

biological clock 
n.
1. an internal mechanism in organisms that controls the periodicity of various functions or activities, such as metabolic changes, sleep cycles, or photosynthesis.
2. the progression or time period from puberty to menopause, marking a woman's ability to bear children

what the hell is this biological clock? and what is it doing inside me?  is it something some psycho psychoanalyst made up. or maybe a distant cousin of sigmund freud thought it sounded like a believable idea? i should look this up. like a billion other things. my head spins.

sunday i went to the home depot with two friends of mine whom are engaged and fixing up a house they just bought. we walked around for a long time through the aisles of buckets and wood putty and faucets with silly names like 'the tuscany pegasus'. all of the sudden i had this weird feeling, a really strange revelation. for the first time, i actually felt comfortable being at a place like that. it wasnt intimidiating or disconnected in any way. and i actually had really good ideas and found all the sale prices and helped them out alot. out of nowhere the idea of putting together a house felt so natural to me like something inside my belly like that aformentioned clock was going off in a really annoying alarm. the sort that make you want to never get out of bed and you are surprised when you wake up finally and find that your ears arent pouring out blood. the alarm was telling me that this is something that i should be or could be doing. but it wasnt scary at all. i was so ready to do it. ugh damn. it probably was because i was with friends. and not my parents as i have always been at a place like that. ah my first memory at a home depot memory is me aged 12 or so following them around while they bought plastic swans for the yard and i listened to pure moods on my gray and pink cassette walkman thinking about hiding fairies and that nights dinner. well it didnt feel like that all. the bride and groom to be are about my age. and i could be in their place exactly in a slightly different universe. anyway, it was a really lonely feeling to be honest. with all the letters on packaging around me spelling out "the future is now and what the hell are you doing rita? youre an adult you know. this could be yours". but no. no it couldnt. this day brought to you by the letter A for alone. or C for confused. no C for content. or I for independent. those thoughts didnt even feel like my own. thats not me. and everything is fine now. its just like for that small time period my body and mind were completely panicking and feeling lost and inadequate in every way that really matters in life. i came to a flimsy theory that the only really negative thing there exists about being single is if there is that one person out there in the world that you know specifically you want to spend your life with take care of inspire love till death and everything else mushy and romantic i could ever put onto a computer screen in words. which could be a problem but i know alone is not really alone. and my goals and passions are so overwhelming to me i think i could fill up four lifetimes with them atleast. and if i'm seventy and single still and wear brooches pinned up in my white gray hair and wear fishnet gloves and take the southern california area transit to victoria's secret to buy pretty underwear to wear under my control top panty hose, i'd still be happy.

 

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[02 Apr 2005|01:32pm]
[ mood | hurt ]

when i was a kid my brother had an entire lego city covering the concrete floors of our smelly basement. sometimes he'd let me play too. i would try to pretend my lego men were actually lego women but it was never convincing. my brother always gave me the lego people who were broken and missing pieces. mine were amputees. bald with a big tumor on the head. dog teeth mark scars on their faces. handicaps. this possibly was the inception of my [slightly misplaced] compassion for the underbelly of humanity. now lego makes pink and purple glittery legos for girls to make picture frame jewelry box necklace sort of things out of. see, that just ruins. everything. childhood will never be the same i'm afraid.
how will little girls today ever cultivate bleeding hearts and bitterness that will nourish them as adults?

it's nicely raining outside today. my parents for some reason don't want to stop watching the televison footage on cnn of pope john IIs bedroom [his bedroom is among the top medical facilities in the world ya know] window lit up in the vatican as he dies. it's driving me crazy. we are not roman catholics. when i said that my dad was annoyed and told me 'but we are christians'. i don't know how that makes sense. he hasn't been making much sense lately...

people dying in hospitals. or bedrooms equipped and turned into hospital rooms...

it hurts.
and i'm going for a drive now..

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if you wait till tomorrow she'll no longer be there [30 Mar 2005|11:20pm]
[ mood | in love with asian horror ]

 

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no form or flow [19 Mar 2005|12:58pm]

i'm all packed. whew. i threw a bunch of random clean jeans, not so clean blazers, alot of scarves and fishnet stockings and slips into my suitcase. traveling is always good. packing never is. theres a billion reasons why its just horrible. containing your life in an ugly [fraying navy dirt blue] nylon suitcase with wobbly plastic wheels. ive never used toothbrush covers or even the simple plastic bag to protect the bristles from dust and crud at the bottoms of bags. i dont have a toileteries case. i have no pajamas really cause i sleep in underwear even in the winter [i love you heating pad]. all this and more turn my packing experience a little messy. i'm tempted to buy a 'travel' wardrobe from the back page ads in the smithsonian magazine. they are just these big dark colored plain pieces of stretch clothing like pants, top, dress, jacket that never wrinkle and are supposed to be so amazing versatile. ummm no. i'm bringing a book on sir issac newton to read for school to the airplane but i will most likely just buy a new spin or rolling stone or even worse cosmo to read instead. its what i do every plane ride. i packed a notebook and a really nice black pen incase i was to make graphs and timetables and lists to sort out my life and every emotion and action that i may or may not manifest in my future. this, also, is idealistic thinking because im sure i will only use it to scribble for awhile before i fall asleep...

an entirely unrelated sidenote is that i hate stacy london on tlc's what not to wear. she sucks so bad. she tries to turn everyone into 'fashionistas' like herself when she doesnt even have that great style. she is totally generic. and the faces she makes! what a snob. like this super cool chubby black woman with an afro and all this vintage jewlery said 'off the chain' and stacy's all "off the chain..yeeea now what does that mean" so the plump nubian queen politely reples 'it means really good' or something to that effect. and stacy makes this look to the camera like 'yikes. can you now see what we are dealing with here?'
ok this is frustrating because i cant even parlay how annoying she really is.
i just think all these make over shows are now trying to be more like extreme reality shows and are being needlessly cruel and mean to the people the are making over and making them cry and throwing away like their favorite jeans from highschool with smiley face patches on them that they sleep with for comfort at night and stuff. who cares! but the really extreme makeover shows where they cut up people and suck yellow fat and blood from their stomaches and inject some of that into their lips and put them into surgeries and recoveries for about six months and they come out being super model frankensteins; somehow i'm more ok those...

gosh, my mind is everywhere.
i get to go to the memorial with my old california congregation. thats exiciting.
see everyone i love. exciting as well.
vegas. i must say, exciting.

one more thing before i say adieu;

dear itunes my boy,
could you please stop choosing all the sad love songs this morning or i will never put you on shuffle again. thank you.

sincerely.always.forever,
rita

ps-the dears sound like blur at their most miserable and addicted to prozac and maybe like a watered down morrissey. by the way these are good things and this means you should listen to them.

oh yea and the beach here in the winter.smoky band in a smoky bar.nyc.sparkly diner.my doll in her new dress.postinterpol show.my bed.my parent's anniversary flowers.this lady getting a root canal.and alot of other things i have taken pictures of that probably dont mean anything at all...except to me

 


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ode to the olde [17 Mar 2005|10:49am]
love: scruffy elderly men who whistle while pouring their coffee or buying cigarettes at the conveinence store in the morn. and wow it actually comes out sounding melodic and slightly feminine. ive been noticing this alot lately. maybe they are all gay men hiding in bodies of old married men, dreaming about show tunes. lost lives. missed loves. maybe they are just in love with their silver haired wives at home. or they got laid the night before....who knows. anyway they make my day.

loathe: this actually just made me really sad. i went to the way too big for its own good pet store the other day to buy a collar for lola since she chewed hers to bits [i think she swallowed the plastic rhinestones that were on it to. deranged girl] and you see the thing to do when you have nothing better to do is bring your dog with you to the pet store. there is this old maybe mid to late 80s man in the aisle with me. a white poodle in his cart. he had a little custom bed to fit perfectly in the baby seat of the cart where the dog was laying. the pooddle was white. and was once probably as fresh and pretty as a snow bunny. but now its hair was all old and yellowed and its eyes were ringed with wet brown, like pooddle's eyes inevetibly will get, but an extreme case of it. the most extreme ive seen. like its been crying so much its rotting insides were starting to seep out of its sockets. the old man had this look a little too. but dog was so old it looked like it had no soul. but this man. he was alive and thinking and remembering and only hiding his sadness under his thin skin that had turned transparent a long time ago. the dog had a pink bow around its neck. you could just tell the man was pining, dying for for people to ask about his prized little dog. so i did. it was his wive's dog. he never cared about this dog. he said when she brought it home a very long time ago he was not happy. angry even. but now his wife his dead. and all he has left of her is this old yellowed dog to spend his days with. who will die soon too. he loves that dog so much. he buys it these little dog biscuits shaped like oreo cookies and petit fours. i hope the old man dies first. maybe the dog will find him sleeping dead in his bed one day and curl up next to him. weep and seep a little...die as well. thats the only way tha this situation could go that i would be ok with. i want to write a book about this man. [widowed. with a dog: a memoir] fiction, ofcourse.
i loathe sadness like this.


also i loathe: public toilets with cold wet condensation saturated handles. god i could just die. this happens way too often. i'm gonna boycott and not flush from now on. EVER.

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"this never happened but i saw you leave and crawl into a bed of broken windows" [16 Mar 2005|11:59pm]
at the library tonight i bought an antique oscar wilde book from 1916 for two dollars. i'm curious if it could be worth money. it's hard covered with faded lavender fabric and rubbed off gold lettering. and it looks like each tiny black inked letter is imprinted and pressed deep into the pages but it could just be my eyes and my dirty contacts. i cant stop touching it.

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there's blood in my mouth cause i've been biting my tongue all week [15 Mar 2005|08:00pm]
my dad slipped on some ice that was covering grass. it was the day after i thought to myself how satisfying it was so walk over grass that was starting to green and become alive under a thin sheet of ice. how satisfying the crunch was under my boots that broke through to this new germinating life. well anyway his calf bone broke clean and sharp into two. torn ligaments. surgery. a clumsy cast followed. everything at home has been overwhelming. ma had to cancel her trip this week she had planned forever to visit my brother. we both have been playing nurse. but she has been on the verge of tears. and i have been feeling a tiny bit disconnected. stressed. my dad is out of work and watches tv all day. and is happy doing that. i give him the bible. the da vinci code. the new york times. i want him to read something anything but he won't. alot of people come over to visit him so i serve them coffee and italian cookies [we have so many cookies right now at my house its almost beautiful]. i took dad for an outing to target in his wheel chair. i made him get on one of the motorized bright red target scooters. he made his way through the aisles. i wish i had my camera. it was a.maze.ing. i love my parents. sniff.
my weekend was eating ice cream with gwen by the ocean. and i went over my married friend's cozy little cottage late friday night. we all ended up finding amazing new and wholesome uses for glow sticks. but i kept biting on mine. and one leaked all over my hand. it was great. and i was sure i was going to die because my green glow stick tasted like chemically enhanced lemons on my tongue. but it wasnt kryptonite and i survived to this day...
i can't wait till this semester is over. and i will own my soul once again.
i went to the dermatologist today for a rash on my elbows. i have an appointment with a nutritionalist. and the eye doctors. im sort of tired of being this work in progress of a complete girl. woman. womb man. whatever. i don't believe i'm 22. and it's tritefully 'all in my head'
i dyed my hair today. i have a hate/love affair going on with the 40 creme developer. it's turns my hair into a white spun sugar cotton candy mess. and stabs my scalp a thousand times over. but i still come back for more. hurtful yet going back for more might just be my thing i realize. i'm down with that.
tonight after class i will get coffee and catch up on missed phonecalls.
tomorrow i work hard at work. advertising class at seven..
and this weekend is california.ventura.las vegas.
bella!!

"the possibility of physical and mental breakdown is now very real. no sympathy for the devil, keep that in mind. buy the ticket, take the ride." [fear and loathing in las vegas]

(show ri ri some love)

[24 Feb 2005|07:38pm]
[ mood | snowed in ]

treading
the glacier head
looking hard for
moments of shine
from twilight
to twilight
ahhhhh
utter mundane
aurora
goddess sparkle
shoot me
beyond this suffer
the need
is great
aurora
ahhhh
utter mundane
aurora
goddess sparkle
a mountain shade
suggests your shape
i tumbled down
on my knees
fill the mouth
with snow
the way it melts
i wish
to melt
into you
aurora
ahhh
utter mundane
Spark the sun off
Spark the sun off
Spark the sun off
spark the sun off me

making a snowed in winter 2005 mix cd, despite the fact that yea yea putting music on these thin pieces of plastic is so yesteryear. i'm not happy with napster's new deal. music should be purchased to be had forever. not this fleeting untangible file that you subscribe to. that you fill like a mp3 perscription as if it's a drug. cherished or not so cherished. i think your music should be always there to have. it's like having a kid or a step child. an angel or a bad seed. loved uncondtional. and not going anywhere. like a damaged family member. like a spouse. till death do us part. i mean what if i can't always subscribe to napster? heart attack. get fired. join a cult. poof. it's all gone. it's like a bad dream. ninety nine cents a song is no good either... mankind needs a beating.


bjork-aurora
glassjaw-the snow veil
cocteau twins-iceblink luck
my bloody valentine-soft as snow[but warm on the insides]
louis armstrong & ella fitzgerald-baby it's cold outside
emiliana torrini-dead things
french kicks-white
sarah brightman-a whiter shade of pale
snow patrol-the gleaning auction
depeche mode-sweetest perfection
connie francis-white cliffs of dover
rob zombie-white rabbit
coldplay-sparks
muse-new born
bright eyes-lover i dont have to love
perfect circle-blue
tori amos-winter
shivaree-the luckiest girl

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history books forgot about us [12 Feb 2005|09:40am]

professors at school want us want to make politicly charged art. but i dont care about that cartoon about bush and kerry on atom films. and i think no matter who won the election, a gross amount of money would have still been thrown into the black hole of the inauguration ball. for this project i'm making a coloring book of lewis carroll, nabokov, girls like alice and lolita and the crying one at the grocery store yesterday who lost one of her ponytails and the surviving one was a second from slipping away if i just watched a second longer. lost in a scary world where brilliant men are perhaps really monsters under their skin. lewis carroll is listening to oingo boingo and self help on headphones. nabokov sits under trees in the park watching the carousel in a sweat. instead of grass, all the ground is made of black and white checkerboard in a pattern that doesnt make sense. all the fruit on the trees have a razor hidden in the pit. and mushrooms are pink and made of candy and say sweet things on them like valentines hearts. alice has dreams worse than trent reznors nightmares. is that subversive enough. no no nothing is.

prop·a·gan·da    n.
the systematic propagation of a doctrine or cause or of information reflecting the views and interests of those advocating such a doctrine or cause. 

maybe everything isnt proaganda. and the snow is really a nice thing ecsp when it melts in strange patterns scattered everywhere.




you are my sweetest downfall
i loved you first, i loved you first
beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth
i have to go, i have to go
your hair was long when we first met

samson went back to bed
not much hair left on his head
he ate a slice of wonder bread and went right back to bed
and history books forgot about us and the bible didn't mention us
the bible didn't mention us, not even once

you are my sweetest downfall
i oved you first , i loved you first
beneath the stars came falling on our heads
but there just soft light, there just soft light
your hair was long when we first met

samson came to my bed
told me that my hair was red
he told me i was beautiful and came into my bed
oh I cut his hair myself one night 
a pair of dull scissors and the yellow light
and he told me that i'd done alright
and kissed me till the morning light, the morning light
and he kissed me till the morning light

samson came back to bed
not much hair left on his head
ate a slice of wonderbread and went right back to bed
oh, we couldn't bring the columns down
yeah we couldn't destroy a single one
and history books forgot about us
and the bible didn't mention us, not even once

you are my sweetest downfall
i loved you first

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[04 Feb 2005|09:07am]
lola has turned into a monster. biting everything to death with her tiny white fangs. they say she is teething but i think she is just being evil. possibly possesed. i must tame her. it's my parent's 25th anniversary. i printed menus i made and left them on their bed last night. they picked out what they wanted for breakfast this morning and i took a midnight trip to the 24 hour grocery store. my dad leaves for work at 7:30 so they had to eat early. i made pancakes, heart shaped waffles, orange juice and champagne, and these little italian cookies made with pine nuts. my brother sent bright orange roses, they are in the window with snow falling behind them. i hope my parents are happy. they deserve to be happy. everyone deserves to be happy. ofcourse.

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[29 Jan 2005|10:49am]

nouvelle vague has been lulling me to sleep. so good. 

with the prettiest covers of 'love will tear us apart' and 'a forest'.

i'm a sucker lately for songs opening with the sounds of birds or oceans...

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