Thursday, June 24, 2004
moneys
letter in the mail today from the wvu. i got that journalism scholarship i applied for, which i assumed i didn't get because i'm a freshman and we were supposed to find out in april anyway. a pleasant surprise considering my other scholarship for book money is dwindling. $1500 plus the $400 i have left should cover books for another 3 semesters. less stress for me and the parental units.
tomorrow we're going to cleveland to get drunk and dance in our underwear with strangers.
tomorrow we're going to cleveland to get drunk and dance in our underwear with strangers.
Tuesday, June 22, 2004
apple core
i feel like all my creative energy is overridden by my sex drive. as if, a lack of imaginative expression and flowing words or productivity is punishment for not getting myself good and laid and over with. i never liked to get my hands dirty when i was a kid. i touched dirt and mulch so timidly in the park. those kids who would dig their hands and feet in
drove me crazy.
why would you want that under your nails and
so close to the next layer of your skin.
what if you had a cut and this cut was placed so conveniently
that the dirt became part of your insides,
and then you could never be president
or prom queen or
michael jackson
because
dirt
it's part
of who you are.
it echoes in my demeanor towards the opposite sex. boys are so much like mulch and dirt and produce anyway, it doesn't matter. it's all just splinters in my feet&fingertips.
nothing ever feels good or better. it just feels like nothing.
drove me crazy.
why would you want that under your nails and
so close to the next layer of your skin.
what if you had a cut and this cut was placed so conveniently
that the dirt became part of your insides,
and then you could never be president
or prom queen or
michael jackson
because
dirt
it's part
of who you are.
it echoes in my demeanor towards the opposite sex. boys are so much like mulch and dirt and produce anyway, it doesn't matter. it's all just splinters in my feet&fingertips.
nothing ever feels good or better. it just feels like nothing.
Monday, June 21, 2004
hospital
today i ate these mashed potatos at an italian restaurant and they were good mashed potatos. i am italian, dark hair, dark skin, curves, but i do not enjoy gourging myself with pasta. i lack this certain integral part of my heritage and culture.
a void so big you're not sure if it's a void anymore, because it's a full embodiment. that's what it's like, when people eat pasta and you eat potatos. i'm sure that's what it's like when other things happen too. more important and terribly metaphorical, cryptic things.
i would stomp the grapes if i could.
a void so big you're not sure if it's a void anymore, because it's a full embodiment. that's what it's like, when people eat pasta and you eat potatos. i'm sure that's what it's like when other things happen too. more important and terribly metaphorical, cryptic things.
i would stomp the grapes if i could.
Friday, June 04, 2004
come on.
i am tired of thinking of things that present only a cycle of futility. i am i am i am. self centered. i'm a liar. i'm a bitch. i'm sick of people telling me how they want me to act, think, feel and be. i keep running the same race over and over. i am stagnant. things haven't moved forward in eons or months. personal attacks made by persons and the incessant internal voice that makes me feel bad for not jogging every single day.
i am going to the beach soon.
i am going to the beach soon.
