December 9, 2008 - Tuesday
logging thoughts.
I bought Ponaris Nasal Emoillent today, and it was like dropping liquid pine into my nose. I cannot wash away that slick oily feeling that has built up in the back of my tongue.
_______________________
As an English teacher I love words. But words have power. And some powerful words that I hate (when used in a negative way) are as follows: fag, dyke, gay, nigger, bitch, fat, and retard.
And maybe some people use these words in a way that empower, but I am not one hundred percent for the appropriation of words, even though people believe they are turning a “negative into a positive.” These words are (still) hurtful and base.
______________________
I’m even a bad mother to my own dogs.
_______________________
I need a nap.
______________________
Sometimes I don’t feel complete. What is missing?
_______________________
Insane Clown Posse. What the fuck. So bad.
December 8, 2008 - Monday
this is my blog...
for the writing challenge i have been given. some blogs items will be public, and others will be for my preferred list, and sometimes for myself.
6:00AM- i woke up thing about how i really don't have my own spaghetti recipe, and i'd love an easy one to modify and call my own. my mother has what i consider a really complicated recipe (perhaps the process is too long for my sometimes impatient self), which i have never even attempted to make. i eat sauce almost everyday, and it is always from a jar.
7:00AM - (recording) how am i going to write my thoughts down and drive at the same time? seven o'clock hits when i'm about halfway through my commute. and driving and writing don't mix. so i have a recording mechanism on my phone, so i'm going to utilize this application in the moments that writing can be unsafe.
8:00AM - i should be the poster child for vera wang. i would be her best marketing tool as i am wearing vera wang earrings, pants, and blouse.
9:00AM - miserably hungry, it is ridiculous! i didn't eat breakfast today. and i forgot to pack a lunch and snack. and the cinnamon pop tart i purchased from the vending machine i call 'el diablo' has made me even more hungry.
10:00AM - lunch, lunch, lunch. even though i don't have anything to eat, i welcome the break with a hot cup of coffee. i sort of dread lunch at the same time, because it is followed by my third period. and third period is the tenth grade. and tenth graders are ridiculous. i can feel an anxious knot growing in my stomach.
11:00AM - cyanide and happiness cartoons blow. and i'm wondering if it is because i'm old and my sense of humor is just different (or perhaps i am old AND crotchety). i love 'the perry bible fellowship' cartoons (http://www.pbfcomics.com/) and 'toothpaste for dinner'(http://www.toothpastefordinner.com/) but my students are not interested in my brand of online cartoon humor.
12:00PM - fun. third period is sometimes fun (even when they are bad). i should write a book on classroom management class. three rules: no throwing things, no touching, no running around. picture these commands on repeat. but no one listens. they are bad. but, they need to be goofy. perhaps i am guilty of being too flexible, too nice? they need to be goofy sometimes, right? pencil thrown: so what was their punishment? dance out the macarena! and they did without telling me to fuck off. every time they get in trouble, they are going to have to dance!
1:00PM - oh shit. progress reports (are due to tomorrow).
**note: i started working on them as soon as i wrote this down. which is good, because i forever procrastinate when it comes to grading. i'm a lousy teacher.
2:00 - (recording) there is this point in the mohawk river that seems so low. it is a point i can see from I890 in the scotia area. it is so low, i can see long arms of rock from each bank stretching out to reach each other, but they never connect, separated by a few yards (how big is a yard? i don't even know how to gauge it, except from the mental football field map in my head). if i walked down the river's bank, could i walk across the mohawk without drowning, without the water covering my head? how deep is the mohawk at its deepest point? how shallow is the river at its most shallow point? wikipedia? but, doesn't it always change with erosion?
3:00 - consumed with the writing challenge. this challenge is good for me. i complain about how all my thoughts are stuck in my head, and i want to be a writer! in my head, now on paper. the recording device will help me. progress report ugh. and, so hungry.
4:00PM - sitting, typing, listening, full. thinking of the work i have to do.
5:00PM - my toes are so cold, even wrapped up in tights and socks. i know they are purple.
6:00PM - tyler pooped on the floor and ate it. i smelled her poopy breath and wanted to cry. grading is awful. i'm glad i'm not in high school.
7:00PM - grandma is missing jeopardy and her bed time is fast approaching. when will the work end?
8:00PM - tired.
__________________________
food and drink and worst knock-knock joke ever!
kashi crunch!
coffee!
cranberry juice!
hummus and triscuits!
water!
pizza!
milk!
eggplant parmesan and angel hair!
white hot chocolate!
i wish i had some of that whipped chocolate cheesecake left! i'm hungry again.
knock, knock!
who is there?
oswald!
oswald who?!
OSWALD MY GUM!
bada dada doo-cha!
__________________________
for tracey.
Current mood: nostalgic
thank you for being a motivator and a new good friend.
okay, on the way home from a pretty dang good dinner at romano's (and a liquid refreshment break at dunkin donuts--i highly recommend the white hot chocolate, it is fabulous and will make you feel like a kid again) i heard bruce springsteen's cheesy new single "working on a dream" on wext 97.7. as cheesy as it is, i will always have a special place in my heart for bruce. he reminds me of being sixteen, sitting on my filthy pink carpet in my bedroom playing all of my dad's bootleg "bruce springsteen live in concert" cassette tapes. i would sit in my room and listen and cry.
there is just something about bruce's words that echo true in my own heart:
Out here the nights are long, the days are lonely
I think of you and I'm working on a dream
I'm working on a dream
Now the cards I've drawn's a rough hand, darling
I straighten my back and I'm working on a dream
I'm working on a dream
I'm working on a dream
Though sometimes it feels so far away
I'm working on a dream
I know it will be mine someday
Rain pourin' down, I swing my hammer
My hands are rough from working on a dream
From working on a dream
I'm working on a dream
Though trouble can feel like it's here to stay
I'm working on a dream
Our love will chase the trouble away
I'm working on a dream
Though it can feel so far away
I'm working on a dream
And our love will make it real someday
The sunrise come, I climb the ladder
The new day breaks and I'm working on a dream
I'm working on a dream
I'm working on a dream
I'm working on a dream
I'm working on a dream
Though it can feel so far away
I'm working on a dream
And our love will make it real someday
I'm working on a dream
Though it can feel so far away
I'm working on a dream
And our love will make it real someday
December 7, 2008 - Sunday
this is not my real blog (regarding my myspace blog).
but sometimes i'll post things here that i would like to share with everyone. if you are interested in my real blogs, i'll share them with you if you are lucky!
<3,
me
Showing posts with label lists. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lists. Show all posts
Sunday, January 4, 2009
thirteen.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
An old poem.
I.
Today in the bathroom mirror I traced
the outlines of your furrowed visage and (my bleared eyes
brought us back to the living room on Three Kingsboro Avenue:
I, stoned, in that burlap chair.
You, still, on the couch)
the scar that would have been
if your neck had healed.
II.
Today felt like autumn.
Nose ruddy from north winds blowing through Avenue C:
I thought of those silly incantations in October afternoons,
urging drafts to emulsify—vivify
your relics.
III.
Today I read Walt Whitman, in honor of you.
Ruminations of his springs as my falls.
His lilacs, my begonias and grub bugs.
Graybeard's empyrean sky, my garden
where three-quarters of your ashes lie.
[October 2nd, 2003 Notation]
This October marks the beginning of the eighth stanza of my changed life. I am sure I will not 'cease my song for thee' as long as memory persists.
_________________________________________
Erica L. Dow 2003 5:29 AM
Friday, April 11, 2008
in loco parentis.
a colleague of mine has had a pretty rocky year. most are unsympathetic, and by far, the students are the ones who are the most ruthless. why is it, that we as teachers, can be so accommodating and forgiving of all of our students' problems and attitudes, but when we have a "bad" day we are no longer categorized as humans, but as monsters?
how is it that a student can yell at me for something that they did wrong, and not understand the legitimate consequences of his or her own poorly deliberated (and often unhealthy) decisions? why is that my seniors (my favorites), the most mature, the ones closest to plunging into the real world of it all, can be so hurtful?
Monday, April 07, 2008
a funeral.
recently, i read a blog by a talented individual about her experience disposing the artistic extensions of who she was, to embrace the person she is today. her blog made me think about what part of the old me I have been holding on to, even in the latter part of this new decade of age. i thought about whether or not i would have the cojones to rid myself of the only artistic expression that i was once (and maybe still am?) good at, but i’ve come to realize that i could never part with any of my writings, as much of it deals with my own grief regarding my dead father.
i’ve been thinking long and hard about what it is that i would like to bury, in hopes that a new me can grow from the dead weight of the old me. i decided that i would like to bury my silence and submissive attitude.
it has been far too easy for me to be quiet for all these years, silent in my own company, and painfully so in the presence of others. it is far to easy to say nothing even when i do have something to say. and,i do have something to say; i always have something to say. so today i will bury this part of the old me and embrace what it is that is now a part of the new me.
i want to thank this person (and her blog) for sharing her own experience and insight, as it has greatly helped me in discovering that we are all works in progress and that sometimes it is okay to just let go.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
new goal:
honesty, remix:
i will forever remain misunderstood if i allow my voice to be muted for the sake of other peoples' voiced opinions and or feelings. i will never be heard (or read, in this case), if i let my words fall to the knotted pit of my anxious stomach, only to be digested internally with the occasional flare up of heartacheburn. further, my new goal is not intended for the sole purpose of stirring shit up, or to exercise my right to be a bitch. its purpose is to get everything inside of me, out.
Monday, March 24, 2008
an unhealthy relationship with a blog.
my not-so-secret obsession is lurking profiles and reading blogs. this has been a voyeuristic habit of mine since the early days of livejournal. i don’t know what it is about blogs, but i’m hooked beyond a normal degree. i think i enjoy gaining insight to other’s lives, not to fulfill some empty space of dissatisfaction in my own, but perhaps to gauge my day to day experiences and emotions against another’s and, in totality, gauge my own sanity, or the times there is a lack thereof.
i’m obsessed with a local blogger whose life is an absolute fucking train wreck, and i cannot, for the life me, stop reading this person’s blog (and this person is not a "friend" in the myspace sense of the word, or even in the in-real-life sense of the word). i dislike this person with many fibers of my being, so why is it that i am glued to his or her blog? do i enjoy watching his or her plagued life unfold before my eyes? no, because it is beyond anti-climatic. do i wish ill will on he or she? no, because he or she has enough of his or her own to deal with. does this person make me feel secure within my own sanity? a little. i’ll tell you why i’m hooked: i’ve never been witness to such a disaster of a person in my entire life (textually and literally). never have i had such an experience to meet and read about a person who has so little regard for other people--his or her behavior is despicable, dehumanizing, and shamefully ostentatious.
what angers me the most is that the limits of this person’s lack of tact go well beyond personal interactions on a day to day basis--it is broadcast through online social networking sites. and i may be a hypocrite, as i stand a lesson or two in keeping private matters private, but i pride my self in being honest, careful, and somewhat cryptic in my textual deliveries of my somewhat suppressed emotional states.
this person’s blog perpetuates the severe dislike i already had for this person, so why do i willingly and faithfully read this blog on a day to day basis? because it reinforces not only what is wrong with this world, but makes me appreciate all the rights.
Monday, February 25, 2008
i don’t fit in.
and i probably never will. i know this. and, i am perfectly okay with this.
Monday, January 28, 2008
winter thaw.
a few things, which i would like to type out for my future self's sake:
one. i love the warmth and smell of my dingy dog so much it makes my heart melt.
two. i wrote a poem last week, whilst the students were taking part two of the english regents examination.
three. i hate my job.
four. i'm going to attempt writing a book. it will most likely turn out to be a novella. it has everything to do with item number three, but it will be partially fictionalized.
five. scary mansion sounds like cat power. and cat power's new album sucks.
six. i hate your fucking surveys, so stop, please.
seven. i like to make lists.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Sometimes I question my profession...
Current mood: calm.
Currently listening : I’m Sorry That Sometimes I’m Mean
By: Kimya Dawson
Release date: 02 December, 2003
..and what i love.
When I grow up I'd like to be a(n):
Radio jockey.
Veterinarian.
Writer.
Cosmetologist.
Social worker.
Massage therapist.
Actor (again).
As for hobbies, I'd like to:
Volunteer for a local pet rescue.
Be a seller on Ebay.
Learn to play guitar from Jacob.
Construct a four square team or kickball team (high school coach).
Knit.
Monday, October 15, 2007
if you’re racist... that scares me.
if you're sexist, xenophobic, and or homophobic, that scares me too.
scares me into being angry at you. and, not liking you. don't be an idiot.
just sayin'.
Friday, October 12, 2007
black francis and the christmas tree shop.
what the hell happened to black francis? captain pasty is THE WORST song ever.
and, i think the christmas tree shop should be burnt down. ALL of them.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
a deer, i hit.
i was very prepared for a long and eventful day. i woke up at ten of five this morning. i coffee'd, i showered, i packed for the gym, i packed for parent-teacher night. i left at around 6:30 this morning. i and my automobile traveled down state street, through the light that intersects 30A. i drove past hussman, and i drove past the forrester's club. and i almost made it to the sign that denotes the change of speed limit from forty miles per hour to fifty-five miles per hour. but, i did not make it, which could have been my saving grace.
a pack of my favorite large-sized furry friends--a mother, a father, and child--traveled across the paved way through the agragian panorama of mayfield. i did not hit the brakes hard, as the road was slick from a damp night. but in this instance brakes would not have stopped me from hitting the stalwart hind-end of one of the deers. all i saw, in my periphery, was the deer flip, as the other two ran off to the sanctity of the woods.
i just remember shaking uncontrollably, but i was not hurt (thankfully).
this experience made me think about why people hunt. it seems so foolish. i feared that the deer i hit would die (a driver of the local transportation system of gloversville, who witnessed the entire scene told me the hit deer ran off). i felt an overwhelming sensation of grief thinking about the more-than-likely-fatally-injured animal and thought: why would anyone purposely kill for sport? it seems so asinine and cruel.
this entry was sort of tangential. for those of you that are worried about me, i'm fine, though my nerves are shot.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Hulk Hogan and Bruce Springsteen.
Current mood: tired
Category: Life
Currently listening : Zeitgeist
By: Smashing Pumpkins
Release date: 10 July, 2007
i feel horribly guilty even admitting that when i was much, much younger i yearned for a famous dad. my famous dream dads were: hulk hogan and bruce springsteen. hulk hogan, back in the day seemed so outrageous, yet down to earth. i have recently divorced my dream of having hogan as a dad--his show "hogan knows best" dashed my childhood dreams; he has has become too hollywood and oily (and tan!) and extremely outrageous, to a sickening degree.
bruce, on the other hand, is still unbelievably amazing.
but, neither can compare to the father i lost over twelve years ago.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Working.
Well, I went to work on Monday and promised myself I would return Tuesday and Wednesday. I broke my promise to myself. And here I sit wishing I went in. What prevented me? Sound sleep with dreams of neck biting zombies, sexing snakes, and mentally perverse murderers.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
september twenty-fourth.
[insert picture of laproscopy]
Saturday, July 28, 2007
one of the worst feelings.
at least for me, is to be slighted by loved ones when simple acts of consideration can make all the difference in one's day.
i'm just menstrual, i suppose.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
new doctor.
i finally got a new doctor, as my last appointment with the previous doctor was a train wreck. bad news is that i pretty much have endometriosis. and my cyst is still hanging around. i have an appointment with the new doctor on the first of august. wish me luck.
i missed the lemonheads last saturday, and a joyce carol oates reading at skidmore on the eleventh.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
blogs.
i read them and now i have gone back to reading livejournals too. thank goodness i will be working on kevin's project soon.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Future plans, summer plans.
So I am opting not to teach summer school, as I told my friend Natasha I believe the abuse that summer school represents could be likened to the torture one would receive in the Malebolge of Dante's Inferno. I hope I get to work the days I put in for at the school, as the pay is hella and it is at my leisure and can be done from home (I love the Internet).
So on this list of summer plans slash ideas:
1. A trip to Animal Land (shut up, I want to pet the llamas).
2. THE MOTHER-EFFIN GREAT ESCAPE AND SPLASH WATER KINGDOM.
3. Field hockey summer league in Gloversville or maybe a field hockey team in Albany (which I might add: the first scrimmage is this Sunday at 6:30 at UAlbany, on the turf).
4. Gym membership or some place that offers yoga. I really want to do Bikram yoga on the regular, but I am unaware of where I should actually go.
5. An all ladies trip to a spa in Saratoga.
6. Lotsa horse-ball and bowling.
7. Fixing my Peugeot inner-tube and blazing trails on two wheels throughout the Kingdom of Fulton County.
6. A summer bartending gig (maybe Saratoga). I did bartend in SoHo for two years whilst living in the city. I am no Tom Cruise from Cocktail, but I am fast and can make a innovative cocktail in a minute.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
On seeing a specialist.
All of my doctor experiences in Gloversville, aside from my pediatric care, have been pitiful and confusing: antiquated tools of the trade, as in ultrasound machines from '84 and filing systems on computers older than I (Commodore); cramped dirty rooms; and megalomaniacal local doctors.
What it is inside me is not known. I have a fourth appointment in a month regarding the size of my (it belongs to me; I have taken ownership of this undesirable abnormal character) ovarian cyst, with free flowing browned blood swimming inside. My last appointment the doctor had a "hypothetical" conversation with me regarding endometriosis and my "potential" issues with infertility. All of which was grounded in speculation, as hard evidence in the form of testing does not exist. His solution to my health issue was to sit and wait and agonize for one more month.
I should see a specialist outside of this area.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
on being tired.
it seems these days that if i tell someone i'm tired, the retort i generally receive is "wait 'til you have kids." hi, i have kids. fifty-six of them to be exact. and last year i had eighty seven, and the year before that, over one hundred and five. the way things are going, anatomically speaking, i might not be able to have kids, so one: it bothers me when people say this because of my recent issues with health; and two: it is rude to assume that i don't know the meaning of tired considering my life, personal, and professional interests have everything to do with children and young adults.
Saturday, May 05, 2007
I’m just a quiet person.
I know some of you think I have been quiet and maybe sort of "off" lately. Maybe you think I don't like you because I don't have a lot to say—this is wrong. I'm just a quiet person.
I've never felt comfortable talking around people; I have never felt comfortable with having friends. For more than ten years I have been on my own, for the most part. In high school I had a small group of close friends, but watched those relationships either fade or disintegrate for one reason or another (college, time, distance damage, arguments, et cetera). In college I had one solid friend, but after graduation our relationship became diluted by our post-college interests and careers. My early years in New York City and Boston were clouded with getting to know these new places—and I wasn't in these places long enough to establish any friendships. The last few years in New York yielded one solid friendship with a colleague and since my relocation to upstate we have lost touch too.
I have Jacob and his wonderful family, Tyler, and my family and I am satisfied with these things—and I don't mind sharing the wealth because each are amazing and intoxicating and their energy needs to be shared with others. But, I'm not ready to share too much of myself with anyone outside these things just yet. I'm nervously shy, complicated (who isn't), emotional, and quietly contemplative; I don't want you to confuse these aspects of my personality by equating me with a bitch or think that I am judging you.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Memento Mori: Loki
Yesterday, almost home, from my tiring hour commute from work, my mother called to discuss and weep, the decision she and Ron made to put Loki down, as he was very ill during the night. She told me he was euthanized at 10:30 in the morning and they had plans to bury his body (as opposed to shipping him off to an Albany crematorium) just beyond the small tree farm, slightly before the wood of their ever-expansive acreage.
I won't spare the details. My mother woke in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and returned to bed. It is customary for Loki to follow anyone he feels the need to protect, even if the distance is a few feet. Both returned to sleep. But Ron woke in the middle of the night startled by a strange smell and woke my mother and they both found Loki lying in a pool of his own tar-like feces. They took him outside so he could eliminate more without embarrassment, cleaned him up, and fixed him up a resting spot in the garage. I doubt if any of them slept.
In the morning my brother brought up his mini-van to transport Loki to the veterinarian. I was told Loki had a large tumor in his stomach and a tumor on his spleen; his blood work was far from copacetic.
We got Loki shortly after my father died. He was the best thing for us at the time, as we no longer could mope about when there was a puppy to look after. He was good for all of us; a good companion that forced us to stop grieving once in a while. He was an integral part of my post-pubescent existence. He was my furry four-legged protector and constant shadow.
After eleven years it is natural for a family to move from one stage of life to other stages. I went to college, moved about the Northeast, settled in New York City for more than three years before moving back Upstate to be closer to my family and to Jacob. My mother found love again, remarried, and relocated a few towns over. My brother has been preserving my childhood memory of "home," found love, and is a loving father of two and a soon-to-be husband. With all the changes in our family dynamic, Loki was our constant—the tangible furry glue of a once three-member family who had lost their fourth. Yesterday I felt like my memories of what used to be, what once was, were gone; that without Loki to remind me of my sixteen year old self and grueling depressive years to follow I would not know what to turn to when memories are needed.
But memories never really expire—the sound of my father's voice faded long ago, but this does not mean I don't remember his words. I will never have that midnight black shadow of Loki to follow me from room to room, but I will never forget him and what he represents in the grander scale of things. But, I will surely miss him; he was a good boy.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
ge commercials make me laugh.
they sure do.
i have two doctor's appointments in the next two weeks to clarify the length of my life i'm sure.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
ovarian cyst.
this might be too much information about ms. dow than you would care to know. know this: i have a cyst on one of my ovaries. but, i really think my ovary has sprouted arms and is punching me, repeatedly, in the gut. or it is dancing, drunk, wildly, around my fallopian tube.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Air.
In the very early mornings and in the early evenings I enjoy spending more time in the yard with Tyler. It is because of the air—crisp and intoxicating.
I remember living off of Houston and between Avenue C and D. Waking to the smells of exhaust filtering through my south bound window and walking home from bartending in the wee hours of the morning, disgusted more by the smell of dirty air than the foul sticky smell of dried alcohol and cigarette smoke that clung to my clothes and hair. On Twenty-ninth Street, just off of Fourth Avenue, the same dingy highway-like air made me want to die as my hand griped my inhaler.
Another reason I am happy about my move: air.
Friday, March 23, 2007
also, i like to read blogs.
even if i don't know you. i would read livejournals all day, but now it's myspace blogs. if you have a tracker i'm not stalking you. i just like blogs.
----------
a dream about dying. i had today. and i woke up all tears.
the sequence of the dream images leading up to the "death scene" is confusing, but i ended up in a vestibule of a house, perhaps a rustic cabin. i was accompanied by a host, and at this point it escapes me whether or not this host was human or animal. i'm thinking it was a human, as he (not she) spoke to me in standard american english. i was also surrounded by a grey and white kitten and what i remember to be a rabbit who told me he (yes, he) rode bulls. i do believe the kitten represents the non-verbal communication of love as i was asked to mimic its actions, which of course consisted of nuzzling against me, the host, and the rabbit, whilst purring. the rabbit, who happened to also speak standard american english, told me the hardest challenges he endured in his lifetime was riding bulls. i think this is linked, metaphorically, to the challenges we all have in life (juxtaposed, of course, to what i will now refer to as the "kitten" experience we all long for when faced with tough challenges). the rabbit suggested to me that another good outlet to the feeling associated with being challenged (frustration) is to dance it off. i remember in my dream i closed my eyes and wriggled to a the beat of deep sadness i seem to hold in my heart in my conscious life.
after the lectures, the dancing, and the nuzzling (it happened in this order) my host was about to tell me it was "time to go." i told him i was aware of what was happening (although i am positive he, nor the others, were trying to be tricksy) , even though i did not want to go through with it.
he opened the door to the "outside" world, which of course offered its light to the darkness of the vestibule. i remember i asked my host if it was okay to be scared. he replied that it was perfectly okay to be scared, but assured me there was nothing to be afraid of. i asked him if i would have just as many friends on the other side, to which he replied "of course. you will have as many friends as you need."
before i walked through the threshold, i woke up (crying).
Sunday, March 18, 2007
two excellent movies.
i recommend the following:
brick
and
half nelson
Monday, March 12, 2007
built by wendy.
wendy mullin i love your clothes, but why so pricey? design a line for target.
my wallet hates you wendy.
---------
the tale of the winter piglet. i cannot stop eating. even when i am not hungry i still eat. i dream of ice cream while i eat cookies. of bagels when i eat muffins. food is all i want. all. the. time.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
target and clothes.
when i moved to new york city, four years ago, i discovered the glory of target. i became an avid disciple--namely, for clothes. to this day i still get most of my clothes from target. i am extremely tickled by the the design for all program they have implemented. i have loved all the go designers, save for maybe two (the past winter season selection was disgusting).
i am so happy that proenza schouler is designing affordable (super cheap prices, but great quality) clothes for target. my only issue with them is the season they have chosen to design for. all the vibrant colors make me want to die (save for the purple pencil skirt)--i only wished they designed for the fall season. their fall clothing is amazing (proenza schouler fall 2005)
Saturday, February 10, 2007
mark strand poem
"Coming To This"
We have done what we wanted.
We have discarded dreams, preferring the heavy industry
of each other, and we have welcomed grief
and called ruin the impossible habit to break.
And now we are here.
The dinner is ready and we cannot eat.
The meat sits in the white lake of its dish.
The wine waits.
Coming to this
has its rewards: nothing is promised, nothing is taken away.
We have no heart or saving grace,
no place to go, no reason to remain.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
dog babies and homework.
i was on the couch last night. jacob was doing his homework and i said:
"tyler would be the worst mommy. she'd probably eat her kids."
tyler will never have babies, unless by miracle, which made me sort of sad. maybe she would be a good mother? but, i'm still convinced she'd mouth atleast one of them.
----------
i'm so hungry i could eat ten biggy iggy ice cream sandwiches from stewart's.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Naps.
I haven't been taking them as much as my body yearns for them.
I take them when I am tired.
I take them when I am depressed because I'd rather sleep than tap into hatred.
I take them when I long for company when Jacob is not around. Tyler is warm and snores like Jacob too.
---------
On another note altogether, why do people seem sketchy? Maybe I am paranoid.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
also, a poem rather, an excerpt:
what are words, i want to ask you, what
is clarity and why do words keep burning
a century later, though the earth
weighs so much?
from "a talk with friedrich nietzsche" by adam zagajewski.
--------
antigone. i'm going to watch this movie in the absence of my other half. then i will gouge my eyes out in reverence.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
My Chelsea students...
I just want to say these things: I miss you all (even the ones who drove me nuts--you know who you are) and I am proud of you all. Class of 2008, you are the best group of young adults, ever.
Friday, December 29, 2006
shaking hands with a genius.
i went to applebee's and had kettle (tavern) chips smothered with cheese and bacon. i wish i invented this dish.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
my heart attack.
salmon wrapped in bacon topped with cheese. best. dinner. ever.
atleast today ended on a good note. this weekend was abysmal.
--------
for mary... your profile makes my computer freeze:
[insert absent image of dancing robot]
Saturday, December 09, 2006
friend.
you know, it has been about seven years since i had a good best friend. i had natasha, but after college we grew apart and now she lives in scotland with her husband and dog. i became close with nikki in brooklyn as we lived together, briefly, and co-taught together for two years at chelsea. and here i am, in this bleak town and i feel pretty lonely. maybe that is why i liked living in new york: i was always too busy to be lonely. here i have more time on my hands than i can actually deal with and i find myself sleeping a good chunk of it away because i'm so blah (minus the time spent with jacob).
Saturday, December 02, 2006
esouh.
i want to puke all over myself.
Monday, November 27, 2006
crap carp prac parc arcp
Last night I zoned out during the shittiest movie ever, "The DaVinci Code," and for moments I truly thought I was a clairvoyant, as I seemed to see clearly into my doomy future where I only wore sweatpants, ate noodles with butter, and lamented to Jacob that shampoo and soap should be separate showering entities and or luxuries.
This house shit has my brain on the fritz and I wonder if we can really do this without going stark-raving loonie. I think to myself: "I have to do this; I am twenty seven. I have no babies, I cannot rent forever..I am an adult, right?"
What if I had stayed in Brooklyn? What would it have been like? The traveling would tear us apart. Now that I am here will our obsessive-compulsive, fixative habits make us want to bounce off each other like walking padded rooms, or will we just stick together like glue and have our insecurities co-mingle in an emotional tick-oriented bliss?
I can speculate about what it would have been like to have stayed in Brooklyn, but what I have learned is that love is worth more than a twelve-grand pay cut and feeling severely uncomfortable, socially, in this insular town--it is transcendent.
Friday, November 24, 2006
I should have stayed in Brooklyn.
Sometimes I think this.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Slang.
One thing I miss about being in the city is slang. Someone used the phrase dead-ass in class the other day (in an awkward manner no less--it sounded less like one huffy fast deadass and more like dead-pause-pause-pause-asssssss) and I felt like telling him that phrase is so beat these days. But how would he know? What is hip here was hip more than two years ago down there. I don't even want to get into music or the style of clothes.
Yes, I used the word hip. Shut up.
Friday, October 27, 2006
On Walking Dogs.
Current mood: annoyed
Currently listening: Mule Variations
By: Tom Waits
Release date: 27 April, 1999
Walking dogs should be done, always, with leashes. Aside from my roommates' dog that happens to be the most docile and oblivious dog I know to date, all dogs should be walked with a leash. I will even say that any dog walker walking a dog without a leash is full-fledged moron. My case in point: yesterday afternoon, after arriving at my apartment to pick up some things for a night of grading at JV's while he was in class, I witnessed a small dog (a size-challenged breed I personally abhor) being attacked by to unleashed dogs. If it wasn't bad enough watching a small dog being mauled by some feral-looking, hick-bred dog, compound this image with a wire-hanger abortion scream coming from a young girl still holding onto the leash of her small dog. Then to add to the chaotic cacophony of hell-hound barks and anti-orgasmic screams, picture the potential hick-breeder, but most certainly hick-owner, of these ravenous, feral-looking dogs yelling out commands and kicking about like a Nazi war solider, all of which the dogs did not respond to. I mean, I will admit it: I hate small dogs. There is no room in our Darwinist society for small dogs, but they do exist, sadly, and they should have at least the minimal right to be walked around in a safe environment by owners who should wear no fear against unleashed animals. There is also no room in our Darwinist society for morons, especially those specific types of morons who own dogs and choose not to walk them on leashes. Sadly, these morons exist and I have no solution to remedy the error of their moronic ways, but I sure hope someone does and perhaps their fate will be in the form of some Hades-like Malebolge that awaits them in after-life.
An old poem.
I.
Today in the bathroom mirror I traced
the outlines of your furrowed visage and (my bleared eyes
brought us back to the living room on Three Kingsboro Avenue:
I, stoned, in that burlap chair.
You, still, on the couch)
the scar that would have been
if your neck had healed.
II.
Today felt like autumn.
Nose ruddy from north winds blowing through Avenue C:
I thought of those silly incantations in October afternoons,
urging drafts to emulsify—vivify
your relics.
III.
Today I read Walt Whitman, in honor of you.
Ruminations of his springs as my falls.
His lilacs, my begonias and grub bugs.
Graybeard's empyrean sky, my garden
where three-quarters of your ashes lie.
[October 2nd, 2003 Notation]
This October marks the beginning of the eighth stanza of my changed life. I am sure I will not 'cease my song for thee' as long as memory persists.
_________________________________________
Erica L. Dow 2003 5:29 AM
Friday, April 11, 2008
in loco parentis.
a colleague of mine has had a pretty rocky year. most are unsympathetic, and by far, the students are the ones who are the most ruthless. why is it, that we as teachers, can be so accommodating and forgiving of all of our students' problems and attitudes, but when we have a "bad" day we are no longer categorized as humans, but as monsters?
how is it that a student can yell at me for something that they did wrong, and not understand the legitimate consequences of his or her own poorly deliberated (and often unhealthy) decisions? why is that my seniors (my favorites), the most mature, the ones closest to plunging into the real world of it all, can be so hurtful?
Monday, April 07, 2008
a funeral.
recently, i read a blog by a talented individual about her experience disposing the artistic extensions of who she was, to embrace the person she is today. her blog made me think about what part of the old me I have been holding on to, even in the latter part of this new decade of age. i thought about whether or not i would have the cojones to rid myself of the only artistic expression that i was once (and maybe still am?) good at, but i’ve come to realize that i could never part with any of my writings, as much of it deals with my own grief regarding my dead father.
i’ve been thinking long and hard about what it is that i would like to bury, in hopes that a new me can grow from the dead weight of the old me. i decided that i would like to bury my silence and submissive attitude.
it has been far too easy for me to be quiet for all these years, silent in my own company, and painfully so in the presence of others. it is far to easy to say nothing even when i do have something to say. and,i do have something to say; i always have something to say. so today i will bury this part of the old me and embrace what it is that is now a part of the new me.
i want to thank this person (and her blog) for sharing her own experience and insight, as it has greatly helped me in discovering that we are all works in progress and that sometimes it is okay to just let go.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
new goal:
honesty, remix:
i will forever remain misunderstood if i allow my voice to be muted for the sake of other peoples' voiced opinions and or feelings. i will never be heard (or read, in this case), if i let my words fall to the knotted pit of my anxious stomach, only to be digested internally with the occasional flare up of heartacheburn. further, my new goal is not intended for the sole purpose of stirring shit up, or to exercise my right to be a bitch. its purpose is to get everything inside of me, out.
Monday, March 24, 2008
an unhealthy relationship with a blog.
my not-so-secret obsession is lurking profiles and reading blogs. this has been a voyeuristic habit of mine since the early days of livejournal. i don’t know what it is about blogs, but i’m hooked beyond a normal degree. i think i enjoy gaining insight to other’s lives, not to fulfill some empty space of dissatisfaction in my own, but perhaps to gauge my day to day experiences and emotions against another’s and, in totality, gauge my own sanity, or the times there is a lack thereof.
i’m obsessed with a local blogger whose life is an absolute fucking train wreck, and i cannot, for the life me, stop reading this person’s blog (and this person is not a "friend" in the myspace sense of the word, or even in the in-real-life sense of the word). i dislike this person with many fibers of my being, so why is it that i am glued to his or her blog? do i enjoy watching his or her plagued life unfold before my eyes? no, because it is beyond anti-climatic. do i wish ill will on he or she? no, because he or she has enough of his or her own to deal with. does this person make me feel secure within my own sanity? a little. i’ll tell you why i’m hooked: i’ve never been witness to such a disaster of a person in my entire life (textually and literally). never have i had such an experience to meet and read about a person who has so little regard for other people--his or her behavior is despicable, dehumanizing, and shamefully ostentatious.
what angers me the most is that the limits of this person’s lack of tact go well beyond personal interactions on a day to day basis--it is broadcast through online social networking sites. and i may be a hypocrite, as i stand a lesson or two in keeping private matters private, but i pride my self in being honest, careful, and somewhat cryptic in my textual deliveries of my somewhat suppressed emotional states.
this person’s blog perpetuates the severe dislike i already had for this person, so why do i willingly and faithfully read this blog on a day to day basis? because it reinforces not only what is wrong with this world, but makes me appreciate all the rights.
Monday, February 25, 2008
i don’t fit in.
and i probably never will. i know this. and, i am perfectly okay with this.
Monday, January 28, 2008
winter thaw.
a few things, which i would like to type out for my future self's sake:
one. i love the warmth and smell of my dingy dog so much it makes my heart melt.
two. i wrote a poem last week, whilst the students were taking part two of the english regents examination.
three. i hate my job.
four. i'm going to attempt writing a book. it will most likely turn out to be a novella. it has everything to do with item number three, but it will be partially fictionalized.
five. scary mansion sounds like cat power. and cat power's new album sucks.
six. i hate your fucking surveys, so stop, please.
seven. i like to make lists.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Sometimes I question my profession...
Current mood: calm.
Currently listening : I’m Sorry That Sometimes I’m Mean
By: Kimya Dawson
Release date: 02 December, 2003
..and what i love.
When I grow up I'd like to be a(n):
Radio jockey.
Veterinarian.
Writer.
Cosmetologist.
Social worker.
Massage therapist.
Actor (again).
As for hobbies, I'd like to:
Volunteer for a local pet rescue.
Be a seller on Ebay.
Learn to play guitar from Jacob.
Construct a four square team or kickball team (high school coach).
Knit.
Monday, October 15, 2007
if you’re racist... that scares me.
if you're sexist, xenophobic, and or homophobic, that scares me too.
scares me into being angry at you. and, not liking you. don't be an idiot.
just sayin'.
Friday, October 12, 2007
black francis and the christmas tree shop.
what the hell happened to black francis? captain pasty is THE WORST song ever.
and, i think the christmas tree shop should be burnt down. ALL of them.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
a deer, i hit.
i was very prepared for a long and eventful day. i woke up at ten of five this morning. i coffee'd, i showered, i packed for the gym, i packed for parent-teacher night. i left at around 6:30 this morning. i and my automobile traveled down state street, through the light that intersects 30A. i drove past hussman, and i drove past the forrester's club. and i almost made it to the sign that denotes the change of speed limit from forty miles per hour to fifty-five miles per hour. but, i did not make it, which could have been my saving grace.
a pack of my favorite large-sized furry friends--a mother, a father, and child--traveled across the paved way through the agragian panorama of mayfield. i did not hit the brakes hard, as the road was slick from a damp night. but in this instance brakes would not have stopped me from hitting the stalwart hind-end of one of the deers. all i saw, in my periphery, was the deer flip, as the other two ran off to the sanctity of the woods.
i just remember shaking uncontrollably, but i was not hurt (thankfully).
this experience made me think about why people hunt. it seems so foolish. i feared that the deer i hit would die (a driver of the local transportation system of gloversville, who witnessed the entire scene told me the hit deer ran off). i felt an overwhelming sensation of grief thinking about the more-than-likely-fatally-injured animal and thought: why would anyone purposely kill for sport? it seems so asinine and cruel.
this entry was sort of tangential. for those of you that are worried about me, i'm fine, though my nerves are shot.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Hulk Hogan and Bruce Springsteen.
Current mood: tired
Category: Life
Currently listening : Zeitgeist
By: Smashing Pumpkins
Release date: 10 July, 2007
i feel horribly guilty even admitting that when i was much, much younger i yearned for a famous dad. my famous dream dads were: hulk hogan and bruce springsteen. hulk hogan, back in the day seemed so outrageous, yet down to earth. i have recently divorced my dream of having hogan as a dad--his show "hogan knows best" dashed my childhood dreams; he has has become too hollywood and oily (and tan!) and extremely outrageous, to a sickening degree.
bruce, on the other hand, is still unbelievably amazing.
but, neither can compare to the father i lost over twelve years ago.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Working.
Well, I went to work on Monday and promised myself I would return Tuesday and Wednesday. I broke my promise to myself. And here I sit wishing I went in. What prevented me? Sound sleep with dreams of neck biting zombies, sexing snakes, and mentally perverse murderers.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
september twenty-fourth.
[insert picture of laproscopy]
Saturday, July 28, 2007
one of the worst feelings.
at least for me, is to be slighted by loved ones when simple acts of consideration can make all the difference in one's day.
i'm just menstrual, i suppose.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
new doctor.
i finally got a new doctor, as my last appointment with the previous doctor was a train wreck. bad news is that i pretty much have endometriosis. and my cyst is still hanging around. i have an appointment with the new doctor on the first of august. wish me luck.
i missed the lemonheads last saturday, and a joyce carol oates reading at skidmore on the eleventh.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
blogs.
i read them and now i have gone back to reading livejournals too. thank goodness i will be working on kevin's project soon.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Future plans, summer plans.
So I am opting not to teach summer school, as I told my friend Natasha I believe the abuse that summer school represents could be likened to the torture one would receive in the Malebolge of Dante's Inferno. I hope I get to work the days I put in for at the school, as the pay is hella and it is at my leisure and can be done from home (I love the Internet).
So on this list of summer plans slash ideas:
1. A trip to Animal Land (shut up, I want to pet the llamas).
2. THE MOTHER-EFFIN GREAT ESCAPE AND SPLASH WATER KINGDOM.
3. Field hockey summer league in Gloversville or maybe a field hockey team in Albany (which I might add: the first scrimmage is this Sunday at 6:30 at UAlbany, on the turf).
4. Gym membership or some place that offers yoga. I really want to do Bikram yoga on the regular, but I am unaware of where I should actually go.
5. An all ladies trip to a spa in Saratoga.
6. Lotsa horse-ball and bowling.
7. Fixing my Peugeot inner-tube and blazing trails on two wheels throughout the Kingdom of Fulton County.
6. A summer bartending gig (maybe Saratoga). I did bartend in SoHo for two years whilst living in the city. I am no Tom Cruise from Cocktail, but I am fast and can make a innovative cocktail in a minute.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
On seeing a specialist.
All of my doctor experiences in Gloversville, aside from my pediatric care, have been pitiful and confusing: antiquated tools of the trade, as in ultrasound machines from '84 and filing systems on computers older than I (Commodore); cramped dirty rooms; and megalomaniacal local doctors.
What it is inside me is not known. I have a fourth appointment in a month regarding the size of my (it belongs to me; I have taken ownership of this undesirable abnormal character) ovarian cyst, with free flowing browned blood swimming inside. My last appointment the doctor had a "hypothetical" conversation with me regarding endometriosis and my "potential" issues with infertility. All of which was grounded in speculation, as hard evidence in the form of testing does not exist. His solution to my health issue was to sit and wait and agonize for one more month.
I should see a specialist outside of this area.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
on being tired.
it seems these days that if i tell someone i'm tired, the retort i generally receive is "wait 'til you have kids." hi, i have kids. fifty-six of them to be exact. and last year i had eighty seven, and the year before that, over one hundred and five. the way things are going, anatomically speaking, i might not be able to have kids, so one: it bothers me when people say this because of my recent issues with health; and two: it is rude to assume that i don't know the meaning of tired considering my life, personal, and professional interests have everything to do with children and young adults.
Saturday, May 05, 2007
I’m just a quiet person.
I know some of you think I have been quiet and maybe sort of "off" lately. Maybe you think I don't like you because I don't have a lot to say—this is wrong. I'm just a quiet person.
I've never felt comfortable talking around people; I have never felt comfortable with having friends. For more than ten years I have been on my own, for the most part. In high school I had a small group of close friends, but watched those relationships either fade or disintegrate for one reason or another (college, time, distance damage, arguments, et cetera). In college I had one solid friend, but after graduation our relationship became diluted by our post-college interests and careers. My early years in New York City and Boston were clouded with getting to know these new places—and I wasn't in these places long enough to establish any friendships. The last few years in New York yielded one solid friendship with a colleague and since my relocation to upstate we have lost touch too.
I have Jacob and his wonderful family, Tyler, and my family and I am satisfied with these things—and I don't mind sharing the wealth because each are amazing and intoxicating and their energy needs to be shared with others. But, I'm not ready to share too much of myself with anyone outside these things just yet. I'm nervously shy, complicated (who isn't), emotional, and quietly contemplative; I don't want you to confuse these aspects of my personality by equating me with a bitch or think that I am judging you.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Memento Mori: Loki
Yesterday, almost home, from my tiring hour commute from work, my mother called to discuss and weep, the decision she and Ron made to put Loki down, as he was very ill during the night. She told me he was euthanized at 10:30 in the morning and they had plans to bury his body (as opposed to shipping him off to an Albany crematorium) just beyond the small tree farm, slightly before the wood of their ever-expansive acreage.
I won't spare the details. My mother woke in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and returned to bed. It is customary for Loki to follow anyone he feels the need to protect, even if the distance is a few feet. Both returned to sleep. But Ron woke in the middle of the night startled by a strange smell and woke my mother and they both found Loki lying in a pool of his own tar-like feces. They took him outside so he could eliminate more without embarrassment, cleaned him up, and fixed him up a resting spot in the garage. I doubt if any of them slept.
In the morning my brother brought up his mini-van to transport Loki to the veterinarian. I was told Loki had a large tumor in his stomach and a tumor on his spleen; his blood work was far from copacetic.
We got Loki shortly after my father died. He was the best thing for us at the time, as we no longer could mope about when there was a puppy to look after. He was good for all of us; a good companion that forced us to stop grieving once in a while. He was an integral part of my post-pubescent existence. He was my furry four-legged protector and constant shadow.
After eleven years it is natural for a family to move from one stage of life to other stages. I went to college, moved about the Northeast, settled in New York City for more than three years before moving back Upstate to be closer to my family and to Jacob. My mother found love again, remarried, and relocated a few towns over. My brother has been preserving my childhood memory of "home," found love, and is a loving father of two and a soon-to-be husband. With all the changes in our family dynamic, Loki was our constant—the tangible furry glue of a once three-member family who had lost their fourth. Yesterday I felt like my memories of what used to be, what once was, were gone; that without Loki to remind me of my sixteen year old self and grueling depressive years to follow I would not know what to turn to when memories are needed.
But memories never really expire—the sound of my father's voice faded long ago, but this does not mean I don't remember his words. I will never have that midnight black shadow of Loki to follow me from room to room, but I will never forget him and what he represents in the grander scale of things. But, I will surely miss him; he was a good boy.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
ge commercials make me laugh.
they sure do.
i have two doctor's appointments in the next two weeks to clarify the length of my life i'm sure.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
ovarian cyst.
this might be too much information about ms. dow than you would care to know. know this: i have a cyst on one of my ovaries. but, i really think my ovary has sprouted arms and is punching me, repeatedly, in the gut. or it is dancing, drunk, wildly, around my fallopian tube.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Air.
In the very early mornings and in the early evenings I enjoy spending more time in the yard with Tyler. It is because of the air—crisp and intoxicating.
I remember living off of Houston and between Avenue C and D. Waking to the smells of exhaust filtering through my south bound window and walking home from bartending in the wee hours of the morning, disgusted more by the smell of dirty air than the foul sticky smell of dried alcohol and cigarette smoke that clung to my clothes and hair. On Twenty-ninth Street, just off of Fourth Avenue, the same dingy highway-like air made me want to die as my hand griped my inhaler.
Another reason I am happy about my move: air.
Friday, March 23, 2007
also, i like to read blogs.
even if i don't know you. i would read livejournals all day, but now it's myspace blogs. if you have a tracker i'm not stalking you. i just like blogs.
----------
a dream about dying. i had today. and i woke up all tears.
the sequence of the dream images leading up to the "death scene" is confusing, but i ended up in a vestibule of a house, perhaps a rustic cabin. i was accompanied by a host, and at this point it escapes me whether or not this host was human or animal. i'm thinking it was a human, as he (not she) spoke to me in standard american english. i was also surrounded by a grey and white kitten and what i remember to be a rabbit who told me he (yes, he) rode bulls. i do believe the kitten represents the non-verbal communication of love as i was asked to mimic its actions, which of course consisted of nuzzling against me, the host, and the rabbit, whilst purring. the rabbit, who happened to also speak standard american english, told me the hardest challenges he endured in his lifetime was riding bulls. i think this is linked, metaphorically, to the challenges we all have in life (juxtaposed, of course, to what i will now refer to as the "kitten" experience we all long for when faced with tough challenges). the rabbit suggested to me that another good outlet to the feeling associated with being challenged (frustration) is to dance it off. i remember in my dream i closed my eyes and wriggled to a the beat of deep sadness i seem to hold in my heart in my conscious life.
after the lectures, the dancing, and the nuzzling (it happened in this order) my host was about to tell me it was "time to go." i told him i was aware of what was happening (although i am positive he, nor the others, were trying to be tricksy) , even though i did not want to go through with it.
he opened the door to the "outside" world, which of course offered its light to the darkness of the vestibule. i remember i asked my host if it was okay to be scared. he replied that it was perfectly okay to be scared, but assured me there was nothing to be afraid of. i asked him if i would have just as many friends on the other side, to which he replied "of course. you will have as many friends as you need."
before i walked through the threshold, i woke up (crying).
Sunday, March 18, 2007
two excellent movies.
i recommend the following:
brick
and
half nelson
Monday, March 12, 2007
built by wendy.
wendy mullin i love your clothes, but why so pricey? design a line for target.
my wallet hates you wendy.
---------
the tale of the winter piglet. i cannot stop eating. even when i am not hungry i still eat. i dream of ice cream while i eat cookies. of bagels when i eat muffins. food is all i want. all. the. time.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
target and clothes.
when i moved to new york city, four years ago, i discovered the glory of target. i became an avid disciple--namely, for clothes. to this day i still get most of my clothes from target. i am extremely tickled by the the design for all program they have implemented. i have loved all the go designers, save for maybe two (the past winter season selection was disgusting).
i am so happy that proenza schouler is designing affordable (super cheap prices, but great quality) clothes for target. my only issue with them is the season they have chosen to design for. all the vibrant colors make me want to die (save for the purple pencil skirt)--i only wished they designed for the fall season. their fall clothing is amazing (proenza schouler fall 2005)
Saturday, February 10, 2007
mark strand poem
"Coming To This"
We have done what we wanted.
We have discarded dreams, preferring the heavy industry
of each other, and we have welcomed grief
and called ruin the impossible habit to break.
And now we are here.
The dinner is ready and we cannot eat.
The meat sits in the white lake of its dish.
The wine waits.
Coming to this
has its rewards: nothing is promised, nothing is taken away.
We have no heart or saving grace,
no place to go, no reason to remain.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
dog babies and homework.
i was on the couch last night. jacob was doing his homework and i said:
"tyler would be the worst mommy. she'd probably eat her kids."
tyler will never have babies, unless by miracle, which made me sort of sad. maybe she would be a good mother? but, i'm still convinced she'd mouth atleast one of them.
----------
i'm so hungry i could eat ten biggy iggy ice cream sandwiches from stewart's.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Naps.
I haven't been taking them as much as my body yearns for them.
I take them when I am tired.
I take them when I am depressed because I'd rather sleep than tap into hatred.
I take them when I long for company when Jacob is not around. Tyler is warm and snores like Jacob too.
---------
On another note altogether, why do people seem sketchy? Maybe I am paranoid.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
also, a poem rather, an excerpt:
what are words, i want to ask you, what
is clarity and why do words keep burning
a century later, though the earth
weighs so much?
from "a talk with friedrich nietzsche" by adam zagajewski.
--------
antigone. i'm going to watch this movie in the absence of my other half. then i will gouge my eyes out in reverence.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
My Chelsea students...
I just want to say these things: I miss you all (even the ones who drove me nuts--you know who you are) and I am proud of you all. Class of 2008, you are the best group of young adults, ever.
Friday, December 29, 2006
shaking hands with a genius.
i went to applebee's and had kettle (tavern) chips smothered with cheese and bacon. i wish i invented this dish.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
my heart attack.
salmon wrapped in bacon topped with cheese. best. dinner. ever.
atleast today ended on a good note. this weekend was abysmal.
--------
for mary... your profile makes my computer freeze:
[insert absent image of dancing robot]
Saturday, December 09, 2006
friend.
you know, it has been about seven years since i had a good best friend. i had natasha, but after college we grew apart and now she lives in scotland with her husband and dog. i became close with nikki in brooklyn as we lived together, briefly, and co-taught together for two years at chelsea. and here i am, in this bleak town and i feel pretty lonely. maybe that is why i liked living in new york: i was always too busy to be lonely. here i have more time on my hands than i can actually deal with and i find myself sleeping a good chunk of it away because i'm so blah (minus the time spent with jacob).
Saturday, December 02, 2006
esouh.
i want to puke all over myself.
Monday, November 27, 2006
crap carp prac parc arcp
Last night I zoned out during the shittiest movie ever, "The DaVinci Code," and for moments I truly thought I was a clairvoyant, as I seemed to see clearly into my doomy future where I only wore sweatpants, ate noodles with butter, and lamented to Jacob that shampoo and soap should be separate showering entities and or luxuries.
This house shit has my brain on the fritz and I wonder if we can really do this without going stark-raving loonie. I think to myself: "I have to do this; I am twenty seven. I have no babies, I cannot rent forever..I am an adult, right?"
What if I had stayed in Brooklyn? What would it have been like? The traveling would tear us apart. Now that I am here will our obsessive-compulsive, fixative habits make us want to bounce off each other like walking padded rooms, or will we just stick together like glue and have our insecurities co-mingle in an emotional tick-oriented bliss?
I can speculate about what it would have been like to have stayed in Brooklyn, but what I have learned is that love is worth more than a twelve-grand pay cut and feeling severely uncomfortable, socially, in this insular town--it is transcendent.
Friday, November 24, 2006
I should have stayed in Brooklyn.
Sometimes I think this.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Slang.
One thing I miss about being in the city is slang. Someone used the phrase dead-ass in class the other day (in an awkward manner no less--it sounded less like one huffy fast deadass and more like dead-pause-pause-pause-asssssss) and I felt like telling him that phrase is so beat these days. But how would he know? What is hip here was hip more than two years ago down there. I don't even want to get into music or the style of clothes.
Yes, I used the word hip. Shut up.
Friday, October 27, 2006
On Walking Dogs.
Current mood: annoyed
Currently listening: Mule Variations
By: Tom Waits
Release date: 27 April, 1999
Walking dogs should be done, always, with leashes. Aside from my roommates' dog that happens to be the most docile and oblivious dog I know to date, all dogs should be walked with a leash. I will even say that any dog walker walking a dog without a leash is full-fledged moron. My case in point: yesterday afternoon, after arriving at my apartment to pick up some things for a night of grading at JV's while he was in class, I witnessed a small dog (a size-challenged breed I personally abhor) being attacked by to unleashed dogs. If it wasn't bad enough watching a small dog being mauled by some feral-looking, hick-bred dog, compound this image with a wire-hanger abortion scream coming from a young girl still holding onto the leash of her small dog. Then to add to the chaotic cacophony of hell-hound barks and anti-orgasmic screams, picture the potential hick-breeder, but most certainly hick-owner, of these ravenous, feral-looking dogs yelling out commands and kicking about like a Nazi war solider, all of which the dogs did not respond to. I mean, I will admit it: I hate small dogs. There is no room in our Darwinist society for small dogs, but they do exist, sadly, and they should have at least the minimal right to be walked around in a safe environment by owners who should wear no fear against unleashed animals. There is also no room in our Darwinist society for morons, especially those specific types of morons who own dogs and choose not to walk them on leashes. Sadly, these morons exist and I have no solution to remedy the error of their moronic ways, but I sure hope someone does and perhaps their fate will be in the form of some Hades-like Malebolge that awaits them in after-life.
twelve.
Sunday, June 25th, 2006
Subject: tyler.
Time: 10:34 am.
tyler is the most excellent travel mate. she doesn't even need to stop to use the restroom on a five hour trip (it takes five hours on friday afternoons, go figure). she nevers asks "are we there yet?" she has been traveling with me for the last four to five weekends in a row and i must say she has adjusted well in her new environments. she loves running around like a chicken with his or her head cut off when we visit my mum (who happens to live in the boonies with a ton of acreage). she adjusted well when staying with jacob when nikki's kitchen ceiling decided to leak (more like a biblical deluge). she liked forty seven south kingsboro, but my roommates and i did not, but i'm sure she will love litauer place as it has a backyard too.
i've been wrestling with the idea of leaving new york for good, which has everything to do with my salary increase and potential to save more money here in new york city rather than there, upstate. pay is poor in upstate, even with a masters. some areas do pay well and it is those areas which i will be calling this week to check in regarding my resume and for interviews.
if i stay here in brooklyn i sacrifice my sanity to certain degrees at the expense of amassing my income for a move the following year.
why do i want to move back upstate? general peace of mind, my mother, a house, aunt duties, tyler, new and old friends, teaching kids who want to learn (socio-ecomomics are the same, cultural diversity is not), a certain ten year reunion (not what you are thinking, yes, i'm being cryptic).
why should i stay here? job stability, tenure, ten grand pay increase, teaching what i want (i think they are bribing me), friends.
i'm leaving this thursday. i'll be back here and there throughout the summer to visit.
Friday, June 23rd, 2006
Time: 7:22 am.
+job interview
-poor pay
+donated hair
-no ponytails
+new summer rental
-old slumlords in bleeker
there are more good things to list than bad, but because my ocd is symmetrical i cannot continue this list.
Wednesday, April 19th, 2006
Subject: sometimes...
Time: 7:14 pm.
quiet people get loud. sad.
Wednesday, December 7th, 2005
Time: 5:51 pm.
bitter cold days make me yearn for long naps.
Sunday, November 13th, 2005
Subject: erica, wait and see what the vet says, your not a doctor
Time: 9:18 am.
so, boxers are prone to vaginitis, for a myriad of reasons. tyler had a bout with vaginitis after her spay surgery, as a result of a possible mild infection, or a reaction to foreign objects within her body (dissolvable sutures).
tyler has had great difficulty with healing properly from her spay surgery, as the sutures are not dissolving as they should (for some dogs, not just tyler, some sutures never dissolve and need to be removed). one month ago a blister developed on tyler's spay incision site and the vet popped the blister with a needle and removed, with her fingers, several sutures.
now, it looks as if tyler is on the verge of developing another blister, atop of a knotty area (scar tissue, hematoma whatever) on her incision site, and we are taking her to the vet, again, to see what's up.
i believe she has an infection, as her vaginitis has returned. for the last two weeks tyler will wake in the middle of the night to lick her hind end and the sheets to which her hind end discharged some liquids. and the presence of a strong ammonia scent exists. and i notice the presence, during the day, of a greenish-whitish goo on her female bits :(
with vaginitis can come incontinence. licking her rear and then cleaning her groin area might have caused a mild rash in her groin. and i wonder if this rash is a urine scald.
i'll kept you posted (did you want to gag a few times?)!
love,
dr. mom
Friday, November 11th, 2005
Subject: hi.
Time: 1:57 pm.
today, i have off.
and i'm sitting around with tired tyler. with dirty hair and yankees hat. in four days i will be twenty-six. i'm unhappy, still, with my place of employment. and as i tyed that previous sentence i felt my jaw clench, teeth grind.
i'm reading this young adult text, crank. it is very interesting.
i bought my dog therasticks with st. john's wort and i would like them to arrive so i can try one. as i feel a need to gnaw and chew to soothe.
twenty six! where does the time go :(
also, lately, i yearn for bologna sandwiches with yellow mustard.
help me find the origin of my last name, would you?
i miss some of you.
Sunday, October 16th, 2005
Subject: i have a new i book.
Time: 9:01 am.
it's nice to travel about the house again with a little companion. i fear tyler jumping about it, so i've been walking around cradling the white mass like a newborn.
so i'm pretty excited about the new depeche mode. shut up.
also i secretly like david gray. any comments from the peanut gallery?
i have to think about what i'm going to do next year, because at this point i want to quit. maybe i just need to teach at a different school?
this summer, though, i'm going to participate in another theatre intensive and i WILL get some headshots done (how many times have i said this?).
over and out for now lovies <3.
Saturday, October 15th, 2005
Subject: :(
Time: 9:39 am.
Pure Nerd
65 % Nerd, 47% Geek, 47% Dork
For The Record:
A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.
A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.
A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.
You scored better than half in Nerd, earning you the title of: Pure Nerd.
The times, they are a-changing. It used to be that being exceptionally smart led to being unpopular, which would ultimately lead to picking up all of the traits and tendences associated with the "dork." No-longer. Being smart isn't as socially crippling as it once was, and even more so as you get older: eventually being a Pure Nerd will likely be replaced with the following label: Purely Successful.
Congratulations!
Tuesday, September 27th, 2005
Subject: i hate.
Time: 4:40 pm.
people who feel that they are the object of prejudice, who are prejudiced (and project it loud and clear) too.
Monday, August 22nd, 2005
Subject: I HAVE A NEW DOG.
Time: 10:05 pm.
FYI.
SHE LIKES TO DROP THE HOT PRETZEL FOUR TIMES A DAY.
Sunday, July 31st, 2005
Subject: i hate philosophy.
Time: 6:09 pm.
because of the logic and illogic.
Sunday, July 17th, 2005
Subject: i have been at my mum's since wednesday.
Time: 10:44 pm.
and i'm leaving tomorrow. i have had a pleasant and relaxing time. with her. and loki. and allen's dog andre. loki was very protective of me the entire time, and jealous of andre as well. it only makes me want a dog more. there is nothing better than running around with dogs on summer days, and lounging on carpeted floors watching the news on a dog's back as a pillow.
my mum says to me : "erica, if you get a dog, how will you travel?"
good question. i need to research amtrak policies for transporting animals.
i really didn't do much other than relax, write papers, and take in clean upstate (humid) air. i will miss it when i leave tomorrow--but i have someone i need to come home to.
Tuesday, July 12th, 2005
Time: 2:03 pm.
meat cleaver and peach trees.
and a new old bike!
Sunday, July 3rd, 2005
Subject: oh, some things.
Time: 7:22 am.
I have a friend by the name of Carlo. My mother fondly refers to him as Carlos. Every time I hear that s, I grow a new white hair. I know she is not trying to offer any disrespect to Carlo’s name, she just has a penchant to pluralize nouns. For example Wal-Mart becomes Wal-Marts and Hannaford becomes Hannafords (it is a supermarket upstate).
I thought about how she does this and decided that maybe she is right: singular nouns are useless in most cases; nouns are much better when there are more than one. For example cake should not be cake. It should be cakes (who doesn’t like more than one cake…I’ll fight anyone with one leg and arm tied behind my back).
Here is a running list of nouns that should be permanently pluralized (more to come):
Cheeses
Puppies
Unicorns
Blue Cheese Dressings
Naps
Thursday, June 30th, 2005
Subject: summer of fun.
Time: 9:05 pm.
i am so going to win at life at pete's candy store and matchless this summer.
join me.
Sunday, June 26th, 2005
Subject: o! i am a girl.
Time: 9:27 am.
i have two more days of work.
list:
house.
a dog like roxy or lilly.
wardrobe exclusively jessica ogden.
field hockey club.
running.
biking.
louie g's everyday.
a new hair style.
Monday, June 13th, 2005
Subject: will i love laundry service?
Time: 9:54 pm.
i will tell you when i get the bill!
Sunday, May 29th, 2005
Time: 8:04 pm.
what are you doing up, human league?
Tuesday, April 26th, 2005
Subject: i'm watching bruce.
Time: 8:46 pm.
that pink pool of a rug with hair and crumbs swimming about. laying in starchy shorts with dry knees and elbows, t-shirt, bad hair cut, age ten, mute to most anything except for the occasional conversation with myself, in front of a hand-me-down stereo system with two tape decks, one for playing, the other recording, staring at these black tapes.
bruce springsteen live, 1985? 1989?
muffled masculine voice similar to my father's (not his singing voice, because he could carry a tune like i can carry a two hundred pound man) coming through the old speakers. muffled because the tape is worn, without a cover (for ages?), muffled by cries from the crowd.
and i've been watching bruce on vh1 classics for the last four hours. i just bought his new compact disc. and i can only think of my father.
Sunday, April 24th, 2005
Subject: school has made me.
Time: 2:40 pm.
serious(ly).
[insert erased flickr image of me with a serious face]
hungry.
[insert erased flickr image of adam and i in a subway station]
Subject: tyler.
Time: 10:34 am.
tyler is the most excellent travel mate. she doesn't even need to stop to use the restroom on a five hour trip (it takes five hours on friday afternoons, go figure). she nevers asks "are we there yet?" she has been traveling with me for the last four to five weekends in a row and i must say she has adjusted well in her new environments. she loves running around like a chicken with his or her head cut off when we visit my mum (who happens to live in the boonies with a ton of acreage). she adjusted well when staying with jacob when nikki's kitchen ceiling decided to leak (more like a biblical deluge). she liked forty seven south kingsboro, but my roommates and i did not, but i'm sure she will love litauer place as it has a backyard too.
i've been wrestling with the idea of leaving new york for good, which has everything to do with my salary increase and potential to save more money here in new york city rather than there, upstate. pay is poor in upstate, even with a masters. some areas do pay well and it is those areas which i will be calling this week to check in regarding my resume and for interviews.
if i stay here in brooklyn i sacrifice my sanity to certain degrees at the expense of amassing my income for a move the following year.
why do i want to move back upstate? general peace of mind, my mother, a house, aunt duties, tyler, new and old friends, teaching kids who want to learn (socio-ecomomics are the same, cultural diversity is not), a certain ten year reunion (not what you are thinking, yes, i'm being cryptic).
why should i stay here? job stability, tenure, ten grand pay increase, teaching what i want (i think they are bribing me), friends.
i'm leaving this thursday. i'll be back here and there throughout the summer to visit.
Friday, June 23rd, 2006
Time: 7:22 am.
+job interview
-poor pay
+donated hair
-no ponytails
+new summer rental
-old slumlords in bleeker
there are more good things to list than bad, but because my ocd is symmetrical i cannot continue this list.
Wednesday, April 19th, 2006
Subject: sometimes...
Time: 7:14 pm.
quiet people get loud. sad.
Wednesday, December 7th, 2005
Time: 5:51 pm.
bitter cold days make me yearn for long naps.
Sunday, November 13th, 2005
Subject: erica, wait and see what the vet says, your not a doctor
Time: 9:18 am.
so, boxers are prone to vaginitis, for a myriad of reasons. tyler had a bout with vaginitis after her spay surgery, as a result of a possible mild infection, or a reaction to foreign objects within her body (dissolvable sutures).
tyler has had great difficulty with healing properly from her spay surgery, as the sutures are not dissolving as they should (for some dogs, not just tyler, some sutures never dissolve and need to be removed). one month ago a blister developed on tyler's spay incision site and the vet popped the blister with a needle and removed, with her fingers, several sutures.
now, it looks as if tyler is on the verge of developing another blister, atop of a knotty area (scar tissue, hematoma whatever) on her incision site, and we are taking her to the vet, again, to see what's up.
i believe she has an infection, as her vaginitis has returned. for the last two weeks tyler will wake in the middle of the night to lick her hind end and the sheets to which her hind end discharged some liquids. and the presence of a strong ammonia scent exists. and i notice the presence, during the day, of a greenish-whitish goo on her female bits :(
with vaginitis can come incontinence. licking her rear and then cleaning her groin area might have caused a mild rash in her groin. and i wonder if this rash is a urine scald.
i'll kept you posted (did you want to gag a few times?)!
love,
dr. mom
Friday, November 11th, 2005
Subject: hi.
Time: 1:57 pm.
today, i have off.
and i'm sitting around with tired tyler. with dirty hair and yankees hat. in four days i will be twenty-six. i'm unhappy, still, with my place of employment. and as i tyed that previous sentence i felt my jaw clench, teeth grind.
i'm reading this young adult text, crank. it is very interesting.
i bought my dog therasticks with st. john's wort and i would like them to arrive so i can try one. as i feel a need to gnaw and chew to soothe.
twenty six! where does the time go :(
also, lately, i yearn for bologna sandwiches with yellow mustard.
help me find the origin of my last name, would you?
i miss some of you.
Sunday, October 16th, 2005
Subject: i have a new i book.
Time: 9:01 am.
it's nice to travel about the house again with a little companion. i fear tyler jumping about it, so i've been walking around cradling the white mass like a newborn.
so i'm pretty excited about the new depeche mode. shut up.
also i secretly like david gray. any comments from the peanut gallery?
i have to think about what i'm going to do next year, because at this point i want to quit. maybe i just need to teach at a different school?
this summer, though, i'm going to participate in another theatre intensive and i WILL get some headshots done (how many times have i said this?).
over and out for now lovies <3.
Saturday, October 15th, 2005
Subject: :(
Time: 9:39 am.
Pure Nerd
65 % Nerd, 47% Geek, 47% Dork
For The Record:
A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.
A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.
A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.
You scored better than half in Nerd, earning you the title of: Pure Nerd.
The times, they are a-changing. It used to be that being exceptionally smart led to being unpopular, which would ultimately lead to picking up all of the traits and tendences associated with the "dork." No-longer. Being smart isn't as socially crippling as it once was, and even more so as you get older: eventually being a Pure Nerd will likely be replaced with the following label: Purely Successful.
Congratulations!
Tuesday, September 27th, 2005
Subject: i hate.
Time: 4:40 pm.
people who feel that they are the object of prejudice, who are prejudiced (and project it loud and clear) too.
Monday, August 22nd, 2005
Subject: I HAVE A NEW DOG.
Time: 10:05 pm.
FYI.
SHE LIKES TO DROP THE HOT PRETZEL FOUR TIMES A DAY.
Sunday, July 31st, 2005
Subject: i hate philosophy.
Time: 6:09 pm.
because of the logic and illogic.
Sunday, July 17th, 2005
Subject: i have been at my mum's since wednesday.
Time: 10:44 pm.
and i'm leaving tomorrow. i have had a pleasant and relaxing time. with her. and loki. and allen's dog andre. loki was very protective of me the entire time, and jealous of andre as well. it only makes me want a dog more. there is nothing better than running around with dogs on summer days, and lounging on carpeted floors watching the news on a dog's back as a pillow.
my mum says to me : "erica, if you get a dog, how will you travel?"
good question. i need to research amtrak policies for transporting animals.
i really didn't do much other than relax, write papers, and take in clean upstate (humid) air. i will miss it when i leave tomorrow--but i have someone i need to come home to.
Tuesday, July 12th, 2005
Time: 2:03 pm.
meat cleaver and peach trees.
and a new old bike!
Sunday, July 3rd, 2005
Subject: oh, some things.
Time: 7:22 am.
I have a friend by the name of Carlo. My mother fondly refers to him as Carlos. Every time I hear that s, I grow a new white hair. I know she is not trying to offer any disrespect to Carlo’s name, she just has a penchant to pluralize nouns. For example Wal-Mart becomes Wal-Marts and Hannaford becomes Hannafords (it is a supermarket upstate).
I thought about how she does this and decided that maybe she is right: singular nouns are useless in most cases; nouns are much better when there are more than one. For example cake should not be cake. It should be cakes (who doesn’t like more than one cake…I’ll fight anyone with one leg and arm tied behind my back).
Here is a running list of nouns that should be permanently pluralized (more to come):
Cheeses
Puppies
Unicorns
Blue Cheese Dressings
Naps
Thursday, June 30th, 2005
Subject: summer of fun.
Time: 9:05 pm.
i am so going to win at life at pete's candy store and matchless this summer.
join me.
Sunday, June 26th, 2005
Subject: o! i am a girl.
Time: 9:27 am.
i have two more days of work.
list:
house.
a dog like roxy or lilly.
wardrobe exclusively jessica ogden.
field hockey club.
running.
biking.
louie g's everyday.
a new hair style.
Monday, June 13th, 2005
Subject: will i love laundry service?
Time: 9:54 pm.
i will tell you when i get the bill!
Sunday, May 29th, 2005
Time: 8:04 pm.
what are you doing up, human league?
Tuesday, April 26th, 2005
Subject: i'm watching bruce.
Time: 8:46 pm.
that pink pool of a rug with hair and crumbs swimming about. laying in starchy shorts with dry knees and elbows, t-shirt, bad hair cut, age ten, mute to most anything except for the occasional conversation with myself, in front of a hand-me-down stereo system with two tape decks, one for playing, the other recording, staring at these black tapes.
bruce springsteen live, 1985? 1989?
muffled masculine voice similar to my father's (not his singing voice, because he could carry a tune like i can carry a two hundred pound man) coming through the old speakers. muffled because the tape is worn, without a cover (for ages?), muffled by cries from the crowd.
and i've been watching bruce on vh1 classics for the last four hours. i just bought his new compact disc. and i can only think of my father.
Sunday, April 24th, 2005
Subject: school has made me.
Time: 2:40 pm.
serious(ly).
[insert erased flickr image of me with a serious face]
hungry.
[insert erased flickr image of adam and i in a subway station]
eleven.
Monday, March 28th, 2005
Time: 8:45 pm.
horizontal rain won.
Saturday, March 26th, 2005
Subject: e-mail.
Time: 5:36 pm.
yo ms d whats good its ralphy i was just wondering if u have n e work i can do to atleast pass your class with a 65 if you do holla at me ight
Friday, March 4th, 2005
Time: 7:40 pm.
Cold was the night, hard was the ground
They found her in a small grove of trees
Lonesome was the place where Georgia was found
She's too young to be out
On the street.
Why wasn't God watching?
Why wasn't God listening?
Why wasn't God there for
Georgia Lee?
Ida said she couldn't keep Georgia
From dropping out of school
I was doing the best that I could
But she kept runnin away from this world
These children are so hard to raise good
Why wasn't God watching?
Why wasn't God listening?
Why wasn't God there for
Georgia Lee?
Close your eyes and count to ten
I will got and hid but then
Be sure to find me. I want you to find me
And we'll play all over
We will play all over again
There's a toad in the witch grass
There's a crow in the corn
Wild flowers on a cross by the road
And somewhere a baby is crying
For her mom
As the hills turn from green back
To gold
Why wasn't God watching?
Why wasn't God listening?
Why wasn't God there for
Georgia Lee?
Saturday, February 26th, 2005
Time: 10:44 am.
vacation is almost over. school is almost over. less than four months.
please recommend any cheap vacationing spots for two, for the summer months.
Wednesday, February 16th, 2005
Time: 7:32 pm.
NEW YORK—Teach For America, a national program that recruits recent college graduates to teach in low-income rural and urban communities, has devoured another ethnic-studies major, 24-year-old Andy Cuellen reported Tuesday.
"Look, the world is a miserable place," said Cuellen, a Dartmouth graduate who quit the TFA program Monday morning. "All people—even children—are just nasty animals trying to secure their share of the food supply. I don't care how poor or how rich you are, that's just a fact. I'm sorry, but I have better things to do than zoo-keep for peanuts."
Just one of the 12,000 young people TFA has burned through since 1990, Cuellen was given five weeks of training the summer before he took over a classroom at P.S. 83 in the South Bronx last September.
"I walked into that school actually thinking I could make a difference," said Cuellen, who taught an overflowing class of disadvantaged 8-year-olds. "It was trial by fire. But after five months spent in a stuffy, dark room where the chalkboard fell off the wall every two days, corralling screaming kids into broken desks, I'm burnt to a crisp."
Cuellen said his TFA experience "taught him a lot about hopelessness."
"The cities are fucked. The suburbs are fucked. The whole country is fucked," Cuellen said. "And there's not a goddamned thing you or anyone can do about it. Anyone who says otherwise is selling something. Or trying to get you to teach kids math."
According to Dartmouth literature, as a member of the ethnic-studies department, Cuellen learned "to empower students of color to move beyond being objects of study toward being subjects of their own social realities, with voices of their own."
Teach For America executive director Theo Anderson called ethnic-studies departments "a prime source of fodder."
"Oh, I'd say we burn through a hundred or so ethnic-studies majors each year," said Anderson, pointing to a series of charts showing the college-major breakdown of TFA corps members. "They tend to last a little longer than women's studies majors and art-therapy students, but Cuellen got mashed to a pulp pretty quickly. It usually takes ethnic-studies majors another year to realize that they're wasting their precious youth on a Sisyphean endeavor."
Continued Anderson: "Of course, we don't worry about it too much. Every year, there's a fresh crop to throw in the grinder. As we speak, scores of apple-cheeked students are hearing about TFA for the first time."
According to Anderson, a small portion of these students will lose interest after hearing horror stories from program alumni.
"But the majority of them will march on like cattle to the slaughter, thinking that pure determination and hope can change young lives," Anderson said. "I can hear their footsteps now, marching toward our offices like lemmings to a cliff. And believe me, we're ready for 'em."
Cuellen said he applied to TFA in search of a "character-building experience."
"I knew that teaching in a severely under-funded inner-city school would be challenging, but I wanted to get out into the real world," Cuellen said. "Well, breaking up fistfights between 8-year-olds all day long, I got a real ugly view of reality. Do you want to know reality? Look at a dog lying dead in the gutter. That's reality."
Although Cuellen quit the program early, his mother said he was with TFA long enough for it "to crack open his bones and suck out the marrow inside."
"Andy is a ghost," Beverly Cuellen said. "Those [TFA] people beat the idealism out of him, then they stomped on him while he lay there gasping for air."
TFA regional coordinator Sandra Richman said it is common to blame the TFA employees for the organization's high plow-through rate.
"Should I have said something to wake those kids up sooner?" Richman said, crushing out her seventh cigarette. "Probably. But listen, no one can tell you that you can't make a difference. It's something you have to figure out for yourself."
"You can only do so much," Richman added. "After a couple years of trying to teach our applicants about how difficult and depressing their lives will inevitably be—no matter what they choose to do for money—I just got burnt out. In the end, you've gotta resign yourself to failure and move on with your life."
Saturday, February 12th, 2005
Subject: is wangster a word?
Time: 10:24 pm.
wow. so i was hired and trained to teach this ninth grade ramp-up to literacy class, which is prescribed to almost every junior high school and high school in new york city. if you have not a clue as to what it is, it is a course designed to "ramp-up" students to higher reading levels. if little jorge joins the ninth grade community with a fourth-grade reading level, my job is to get him to a higher reading level (not necessarily that of a ninth grade reading level). our mantra is the seven habits of the proficient reader: activating schema (text-to-self, text-to-text, text-to-word); creating images/visualizing; asking questions; making inferences; making predictions; monitoring for meaning (using fix-up strategies); and summarizing, synthesizing, and retelling.
with this mantra, i am to read-aloud, yes, read-aloud to my youngsters as they follow along with their own copy of whatever text i push on them.
so.
i've ditched the program for a bit to teach my little flowers poetry and the fundaments of writing a research paper.
i've created a "poem a day" project for my little roses, and boy o'fucking boy do i have some neat poems to share with you in the days to come! here is a little sample:
(background info: theme, individuality (me, myself and i). purpose, to inform. audience, young adults. mood, serious. form, eight lines with some sort of rhyming pattern)
i like math class
alot of girls got fat ass
i am the master
anything he write i do it faster
i sometime get in trouble
but i always have a double.
Monday, January 31st, 2005
Subject: this just in.
Time: 10:04 pm.
i hate english teachers.
Saturday, January 22nd, 2005
Subject: HA!
Time: 10:41 am.
[insert picture of young ashley judd]
[insert picture of young erica dow's acting i.d. card]
Friday, January 21st, 2005
Subject: i just want to say.
Time: 6:43 pm.
i'm one lucky gal.
Saturday, January 8th, 2005
Time: 6:23 pm.
i felt better! i went back to teaching. but now, i feel shitty again. i cannot shake the heats. i'll blame the kids.
adam and i forfeited a trip to peekskill because of the weather. so today was full of naps and mopping. as he tinkers around on his computer, burning away copies of cds, i am getting my sunday work load in now.
guh ( i'm pretty backed up in grading.
save me.
Wednesday, January 5th, 2005
Subject: delirious.
Time: 2:33 pm.
is it the flu that makes me feel this way? or all the medicine.
Wednesday, November 17th, 2004
Subject: Patience, and lack thereof.
Time: 7:00 pm.
That is my summation. I feel like my patience is waning because it is perpetually tested every week, day, hour, minute, and second. Where once I found myself pliable I now find myself stiff, somewhat hardened to the environment around me. Sometimes I can hear my own bones creak and my hair shooting at the root freezing to white.
Today I asked a fellow art academy teacher this:
“Do they get better?”
He replied as follows:
“No…”
Followed by the longest, most dramatic caesura I have ever encountered, and then:
“…but you will.”
Gah! That’s not what I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear that my students would eventually yield, that they would lie down and play dead at the demands of their teacher. What the hell is this anarchy?
Is anarchy so pure that those that possess the quality therein don’t even understand the meaning and concept and history? What the hell do they need to rebel against? All I’ve shown them has been tough-love, tolerance, and guidance. And what do they do? They make me feel sad, too often, at the end of the day.
Will it, if not them or I, get better?
_________________________________
I will refer, again, to the time when a colleague told me, flatly, to “Just stop caring.” And later in the day hearing a similar resonance of fucking idiocy from another peer: “Teachers aren’t going to change the world.”
Fuck you. Fuck the both of you. Fuck your dim-witted lack of ideals. Why the fuck are you teaching? Leave the miserable to wrestle with the ethic and morale of teaching and get a fucking telemarketing job if you don’t care. Push papers across desks if you don’t want to perpetuate change in the world of [academic] complacency.
_____________
If this is the disillusionment phase, I have hit it. And hit it hard. I think some good teas and a nice Thanksgiving break will pull me out of this sluggish lull of the winter blues and the poisonous waters of my buckled patience.
Monday, November 15th, 2004
Time: 5:33 pm.
in my twenty five years i have never experienced a day like sunday. i mean it when i say it was the best birthday that i've ever had. sugar-free chocolate cheesecake with sugar free whipped cream. beer and wings at croxley ales. photobooth pictures at seven b. ballooned kitchen floor. shiny birthday banner. they say it's your birthday. on repeat. unicorn plates, napkins, cups, and mostly importantly, hats. pin the tail on the donkey. kerplunk.
sound special? it was. and so is he.
Sunday, November 14th, 2004
Subject: merry christmas!
Time: 9:12 am.
[insert broken image of something i don't remember]
Saturday, November 13th, 2004
Subject: also. this is fucking amazing. hello wallpaper.
Time: 12:27 pm.
[insert awesome perry bible comic indicating unicorn power]
Time: 11:33 am.
yesterday was the sort of day that made me question just about everything in my life.
i stepped away from it all with a cigarette in the rain.
why does this kid* make me angry? how does a child make me angry?
______________
this always makes me feel better:
you're the pincard, you're
the lifeguard, you're the
information guy, but things
look much bigger on the
knees, on your knees.
miss the signal, miss the
signpost, lose the access to
it all. and all of a sudden
you are one with the freaks.
Tuesday, November 9th, 2004
Time: 6:29 am.
chan marshall, you make me want to die.
Sunday, November 7th, 2004
Subject: owned.
Time: 9:40 am.
[insert image of lacoste dunk type sneakers called turbo]
they are a smidgen too big. but my feet are happy. my wallet on the other hand...
Saturday, November 6th, 2004
Subject: a list. edited. and updated.
Time: 10:19 am.
hi. built by wendy.
old school (cheaper) ipod.
cheap ass digital camera.
pedicure.
paul brown nike air trainer ones, size seven.
target gift certificate.
adopted boxer.
hi black and gum nike air force ones, size six and a half or seven.
built by wendy vintage demin jeans, wrangler edition, size twenty seven or twenty eight.
underwear, size five, small, or extra small.
socks, with strips. three, not two.
mittens with the finger flap.
arm length mittens.
unicorn earrings.
bird wall decals.
unicorn bag.
cheap ass all-in-one printer.
nike lucky sevens. size seven.
simply basic lotion from wal-mart.
peanut butter and company peanut butter.
yankee candle. storm watch.
monday.
Wednesday, November 3rd, 2004
Subject: Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher...
Time: 7:27 pm.
ALL you are doing and saying is to America dangled mirages,
You have not learn’d of Nature—of the politics of Nature, you have not learn’d the great amplitude, rectitude, impartiality;
You have not seen that only such as they are for These States,
And that what is less than they, must sooner or later lift off from These States.
__________________________________________
WHY reclining, interrogating? Why myself and all drowsing?
What deepening twilight! scum floating atop of the waters!
Who are they, as bats and night-dogs, askant in the Capitol?
What a filthy Presidentiad! (O south, your torrid suns! O north, your arctic freezings!)
Are those really Congressmen? are those the great Judges? is that the President?
Then I will sleep awhile yet—for I see that These States sleep, for reasons;
(With gathering murk—with muttering thunder and lambent shoots, we all duly awake,
South, north, east, west, inland and seaboard, we will surely awake.)
Time: 8:45 pm.
horizontal rain won.
Saturday, March 26th, 2005
Subject: e-mail.
Time: 5:36 pm.
yo ms d whats good its ralphy i was just wondering if u have n e work i can do to atleast pass your class with a 65 if you do holla at me ight
Friday, March 4th, 2005
Time: 7:40 pm.
Cold was the night, hard was the ground
They found her in a small grove of trees
Lonesome was the place where Georgia was found
She's too young to be out
On the street.
Why wasn't God watching?
Why wasn't God listening?
Why wasn't God there for
Georgia Lee?
Ida said she couldn't keep Georgia
From dropping out of school
I was doing the best that I could
But she kept runnin away from this world
These children are so hard to raise good
Why wasn't God watching?
Why wasn't God listening?
Why wasn't God there for
Georgia Lee?
Close your eyes and count to ten
I will got and hid but then
Be sure to find me. I want you to find me
And we'll play all over
We will play all over again
There's a toad in the witch grass
There's a crow in the corn
Wild flowers on a cross by the road
And somewhere a baby is crying
For her mom
As the hills turn from green back
To gold
Why wasn't God watching?
Why wasn't God listening?
Why wasn't God there for
Georgia Lee?
Saturday, February 26th, 2005
Time: 10:44 am.
vacation is almost over. school is almost over. less than four months.
please recommend any cheap vacationing spots for two, for the summer months.
Wednesday, February 16th, 2005
Time: 7:32 pm.
NEW YORK—Teach For America, a national program that recruits recent college graduates to teach in low-income rural and urban communities, has devoured another ethnic-studies major, 24-year-old Andy Cuellen reported Tuesday.
"Look, the world is a miserable place," said Cuellen, a Dartmouth graduate who quit the TFA program Monday morning. "All people—even children—are just nasty animals trying to secure their share of the food supply. I don't care how poor or how rich you are, that's just a fact. I'm sorry, but I have better things to do than zoo-keep for peanuts."
Just one of the 12,000 young people TFA has burned through since 1990, Cuellen was given five weeks of training the summer before he took over a classroom at P.S. 83 in the South Bronx last September.
"I walked into that school actually thinking I could make a difference," said Cuellen, who taught an overflowing class of disadvantaged 8-year-olds. "It was trial by fire. But after five months spent in a stuffy, dark room where the chalkboard fell off the wall every two days, corralling screaming kids into broken desks, I'm burnt to a crisp."
Cuellen said his TFA experience "taught him a lot about hopelessness."
"The cities are fucked. The suburbs are fucked. The whole country is fucked," Cuellen said. "And there's not a goddamned thing you or anyone can do about it. Anyone who says otherwise is selling something. Or trying to get you to teach kids math."
According to Dartmouth literature, as a member of the ethnic-studies department, Cuellen learned "to empower students of color to move beyond being objects of study toward being subjects of their own social realities, with voices of their own."
Teach For America executive director Theo Anderson called ethnic-studies departments "a prime source of fodder."
"Oh, I'd say we burn through a hundred or so ethnic-studies majors each year," said Anderson, pointing to a series of charts showing the college-major breakdown of TFA corps members. "They tend to last a little longer than women's studies majors and art-therapy students, but Cuellen got mashed to a pulp pretty quickly. It usually takes ethnic-studies majors another year to realize that they're wasting their precious youth on a Sisyphean endeavor."
Continued Anderson: "Of course, we don't worry about it too much. Every year, there's a fresh crop to throw in the grinder. As we speak, scores of apple-cheeked students are hearing about TFA for the first time."
According to Anderson, a small portion of these students will lose interest after hearing horror stories from program alumni.
"But the majority of them will march on like cattle to the slaughter, thinking that pure determination and hope can change young lives," Anderson said. "I can hear their footsteps now, marching toward our offices like lemmings to a cliff. And believe me, we're ready for 'em."
Cuellen said he applied to TFA in search of a "character-building experience."
"I knew that teaching in a severely under-funded inner-city school would be challenging, but I wanted to get out into the real world," Cuellen said. "Well, breaking up fistfights between 8-year-olds all day long, I got a real ugly view of reality. Do you want to know reality? Look at a dog lying dead in the gutter. That's reality."
Although Cuellen quit the program early, his mother said he was with TFA long enough for it "to crack open his bones and suck out the marrow inside."
"Andy is a ghost," Beverly Cuellen said. "Those [TFA] people beat the idealism out of him, then they stomped on him while he lay there gasping for air."
TFA regional coordinator Sandra Richman said it is common to blame the TFA employees for the organization's high plow-through rate.
"Should I have said something to wake those kids up sooner?" Richman said, crushing out her seventh cigarette. "Probably. But listen, no one can tell you that you can't make a difference. It's something you have to figure out for yourself."
"You can only do so much," Richman added. "After a couple years of trying to teach our applicants about how difficult and depressing their lives will inevitably be—no matter what they choose to do for money—I just got burnt out. In the end, you've gotta resign yourself to failure and move on with your life."
Saturday, February 12th, 2005
Subject: is wangster a word?
Time: 10:24 pm.
wow. so i was hired and trained to teach this ninth grade ramp-up to literacy class, which is prescribed to almost every junior high school and high school in new york city. if you have not a clue as to what it is, it is a course designed to "ramp-up" students to higher reading levels. if little jorge joins the ninth grade community with a fourth-grade reading level, my job is to get him to a higher reading level (not necessarily that of a ninth grade reading level). our mantra is the seven habits of the proficient reader: activating schema (text-to-self, text-to-text, text-to-word); creating images/visualizing; asking questions; making inferences; making predictions; monitoring for meaning (using fix-up strategies); and summarizing, synthesizing, and retelling.
with this mantra, i am to read-aloud, yes, read-aloud to my youngsters as they follow along with their own copy of whatever text i push on them.
so.
i've ditched the program for a bit to teach my little flowers poetry and the fundaments of writing a research paper.
i've created a "poem a day" project for my little roses, and boy o'fucking boy do i have some neat poems to share with you in the days to come! here is a little sample:
(background info: theme, individuality (me, myself and i). purpose, to inform. audience, young adults. mood, serious. form, eight lines with some sort of rhyming pattern)
i like math class
alot of girls got fat ass
i am the master
anything he write i do it faster
i sometime get in trouble
but i always have a double.
Monday, January 31st, 2005
Subject: this just in.
Time: 10:04 pm.
i hate english teachers.
Saturday, January 22nd, 2005
Subject: HA!
Time: 10:41 am.
[insert picture of young ashley judd]
[insert picture of young erica dow's acting i.d. card]
Friday, January 21st, 2005
Subject: i just want to say.
Time: 6:43 pm.
i'm one lucky gal.
Saturday, January 8th, 2005
Time: 6:23 pm.
i felt better! i went back to teaching. but now, i feel shitty again. i cannot shake the heats. i'll blame the kids.
adam and i forfeited a trip to peekskill because of the weather. so today was full of naps and mopping. as he tinkers around on his computer, burning away copies of cds, i am getting my sunday work load in now.
guh ( i'm pretty backed up in grading.
save me.
Wednesday, January 5th, 2005
Subject: delirious.
Time: 2:33 pm.
is it the flu that makes me feel this way? or all the medicine.
Wednesday, November 17th, 2004
Subject: Patience, and lack thereof.
Time: 7:00 pm.
That is my summation. I feel like my patience is waning because it is perpetually tested every week, day, hour, minute, and second. Where once I found myself pliable I now find myself stiff, somewhat hardened to the environment around me. Sometimes I can hear my own bones creak and my hair shooting at the root freezing to white.
Today I asked a fellow art academy teacher this:
“Do they get better?”
He replied as follows:
“No…”
Followed by the longest, most dramatic caesura I have ever encountered, and then:
“…but you will.”
Gah! That’s not what I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear that my students would eventually yield, that they would lie down and play dead at the demands of their teacher. What the hell is this anarchy?
Is anarchy so pure that those that possess the quality therein don’t even understand the meaning and concept and history? What the hell do they need to rebel against? All I’ve shown them has been tough-love, tolerance, and guidance. And what do they do? They make me feel sad, too often, at the end of the day.
Will it, if not them or I, get better?
_________________________________
I will refer, again, to the time when a colleague told me, flatly, to “Just stop caring.” And later in the day hearing a similar resonance of fucking idiocy from another peer: “Teachers aren’t going to change the world.”
Fuck you. Fuck the both of you. Fuck your dim-witted lack of ideals. Why the fuck are you teaching? Leave the miserable to wrestle with the ethic and morale of teaching and get a fucking telemarketing job if you don’t care. Push papers across desks if you don’t want to perpetuate change in the world of [academic] complacency.
_____________
If this is the disillusionment phase, I have hit it. And hit it hard. I think some good teas and a nice Thanksgiving break will pull me out of this sluggish lull of the winter blues and the poisonous waters of my buckled patience.
Monday, November 15th, 2004
Time: 5:33 pm.
in my twenty five years i have never experienced a day like sunday. i mean it when i say it was the best birthday that i've ever had. sugar-free chocolate cheesecake with sugar free whipped cream. beer and wings at croxley ales. photobooth pictures at seven b. ballooned kitchen floor. shiny birthday banner. they say it's your birthday. on repeat. unicorn plates, napkins, cups, and mostly importantly, hats. pin the tail on the donkey. kerplunk.
sound special? it was. and so is he.
Sunday, November 14th, 2004
Subject: merry christmas!
Time: 9:12 am.
[insert broken image of something i don't remember]
Saturday, November 13th, 2004
Subject: also. this is fucking amazing. hello wallpaper.
Time: 12:27 pm.
[insert awesome perry bible comic indicating unicorn power]
Time: 11:33 am.
yesterday was the sort of day that made me question just about everything in my life.
i stepped away from it all with a cigarette in the rain.
why does this kid* make me angry? how does a child make me angry?
______________
this always makes me feel better:
you're the pincard, you're
the lifeguard, you're the
information guy, but things
look much bigger on the
knees, on your knees.
miss the signal, miss the
signpost, lose the access to
it all. and all of a sudden
you are one with the freaks.
Tuesday, November 9th, 2004
Time: 6:29 am.
chan marshall, you make me want to die.
Sunday, November 7th, 2004
Subject: owned.
Time: 9:40 am.
[insert image of lacoste dunk type sneakers called turbo]
they are a smidgen too big. but my feet are happy. my wallet on the other hand...
Saturday, November 6th, 2004
Subject: a list. edited. and updated.
Time: 10:19 am.
hi. built by wendy.
old school (cheaper) ipod.
cheap ass digital camera.
pedicure.
paul brown nike air trainer ones, size seven.
target gift certificate.
adopted boxer.
hi black and gum nike air force ones, size six and a half or seven.
built by wendy vintage demin jeans, wrangler edition, size twenty seven or twenty eight.
underwear, size five, small, or extra small.
socks, with strips. three, not two.
mittens with the finger flap.
arm length mittens.
unicorn earrings.
bird wall decals.
unicorn bag.
cheap ass all-in-one printer.
nike lucky sevens. size seven.
simply basic lotion from wal-mart.
peanut butter and company peanut butter.
yankee candle. storm watch.
monday.
Wednesday, November 3rd, 2004
Subject: Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher...
Time: 7:27 pm.
ALL you are doing and saying is to America dangled mirages,
You have not learn’d of Nature—of the politics of Nature, you have not learn’d the great amplitude, rectitude, impartiality;
You have not seen that only such as they are for These States,
And that what is less than they, must sooner or later lift off from These States.
__________________________________________
WHY reclining, interrogating? Why myself and all drowsing?
What deepening twilight! scum floating atop of the waters!
Who are they, as bats and night-dogs, askant in the Capitol?
What a filthy Presidentiad! (O south, your torrid suns! O north, your arctic freezings!)
Are those really Congressmen? are those the great Judges? is that the President?
Then I will sleep awhile yet—for I see that These States sleep, for reasons;
(With gathering murk—with muttering thunder and lambent shoots, we all duly awake,
South, north, east, west, inland and seaboard, we will surely awake.)
seven.
Wednesday, March 10th, 2004
Subject: birds of a feather.
Time: 1:23 am.
are happy together.
Sunday, March 7th, 2004
Subject: thirty-two hours.
Time: 11:39 pm.
fucking amazing.
Wednesday, March 3rd, 2004
Subject: i ate half your antioxidant and i'm sorry.
Time: 12:40 am.
and the man on the street said:
"there are two things wrong with clark wallabees, one is that when it rains they get soaked..."
and i said:
"and secondly, they're too expensive."
i think you are amazing. you know who you are. please don't ever run away. things have changed. and they would be different without you.
Sunday, February 29th, 2004
Subject: new found fondness for.
Time: 11:06 pm.
five frozen goldfish treats (eating four, and sharing one).
removing fat.
charades.
the ministry of alcohol.
the staten island ferry.
Saturday, February 28th, 2004
Subject: i'm not moving from this place.
Time: 10:16 pm.
it has been a very long time in having a person, place, or thing to call my own. i've always just been on the periphery of sociality, environment, and personal thought. but, i have this city. it is my home. and i don't want to leave. it has offered to me everything that i've always wanted. it is non-discriminatory of my tastes. it offers me plenty of street lights that are capable of burning out while walking under them. it makes me feel less lonely.
on another note, i met some really great people yesterday.
Friday, February 27th, 2004
Subject: i'm going to tell you a secret.
Time: 11:07 am.
i sang usher outloud in duane reade.
i've been there, done it, humped around.
after all that - this is what i found
nobody wants to be alone
if you're touched by the words in this song
then baby...
HAHAHA KEKEKEKEKEKE HAHAHAHA.
i really do like that song in some twisted way.
(((((
Thursday, February 26th, 2004
Subject: i have been busy.
Time: 1:22 pm.
really great things have been happening.
some (five, i play by the rules!) simple things.
five.
peanut butter.
four.
street light lamp posts either flicking from off to on or on to off when i walk under them.
three.
good eyebrow tweezing session.
two.
being responsible for laughter.
one.
books for less than a quarter.
Wednesday, February 25th, 2004
Subject: i just woke up typos.
Time: 10:29 am.
there was a lot of nudity in my dreams.
i was, partially. and i was in my old room on kingsboro. curtain-less windows. whatever i was doing wasn't p.g. and then i noticed i was being spied upon and i did a stop drop and roll to the safety of my dirty pink itchy bedroom carpeted floor.
following this sequence, as i remember, i found myself in my driveway on kingsboro with dave chapelle. my grandfather and his wench wife were dragging around this little old man who happened to be crazy, without family, aimless, and perverted. connie wanted to pawn him off on dave and i and i remember telling her to shove off. as the story goes, connie had met him one night, at the grocery, or at church, somewhere without my grandfather. thinking the little old man had money she did her thing with him and he became attached and, well, soon following, crazy. i remember connie trying to give my mother and i some whack story (i remember calling her soon as i told connie to get a grip so we could compare connie lies). i remember that i referred to connie as a cunt and dave was surprised at my language. in this dream we were dating. or maybe it was just a sexual thing. i remember him touching my back and i leaning in on his suede leather coat.
and then we, dave and i, are in this strange cafeteria hall train station. somewhat like a lodge next to some tracks. the room was separated, men from women, by the alignment of the tables. jewish men, from jewish woman. facing the tracks i see the women on the left, the men on the right. the women's cafeteria tables ran parallel to the tracks. the men's tables were formated in angles. dave was naked, and also whiter in skin shade, during this segment. he was doing penis tricks for the ladies and taunting the men with racial jokes.
i left the room several times only to find myself in dave's kitchen (he lived in this lodge?) for water. the filtering station in his brita was broken and could only hold about a half of a cup of water at a time without the station sinking and disrupting its purpose--to filter water. in the dream i drank a lot of water. i remember his computer was in the kitchen and i was checking up on his instant messenger slash my space sort of text vehicle. checking who was on his list, if i was listed. and i remember the machine freezing. i remember the paranoia i felt when it would freeze. i remember it freezing and fixing itself one time and when i turned back to the screen to continue lurking dave's files he had a picture of adam on his buddy list. the picture with the bat hat. and i wondered how they knew each other.
i woke when a bald young man in a tight white t-shirt (who happened to be sitting at the head of one of the female tables) asked a question regarding a train that happened to steam by, and somewhere in his vernacular her used the word nig.
Subject: a polite decline. from two resources.
Time: 2:17 am.
i'm so tired. my eyes are itchy.
and now upon an e-mail, an academic e-mail, i am sad.
Monday, February 23rd, 2004
Subject: find this. and send it. and i will love you forever.
Time: 2:07 pm.
Mood: ran three miles, want to die.
half baked™ carb karma ice cream pints.
Sunday, February 22nd, 2004
Time: 10:00 pm.
my life is whirling by, faster and more dizzying than a dervish. and at age twenty-four i’m not exactly where i’d like to be, but i feel like i’m heading in the right direction. my fear exists, though, in this complacency that has consumed my life for the last three years: settling into something where i don’t feel like i belong. rooting myself, comfortably, in the idea that my life will eventually propel itself forward feverishly and successfully some time very soon, and that the only thing i need to hold truth in is time. patience. but aren’t i brimful of patience. has it not been stewing for years. will something break. what does it take. am i going about it wrong. these statements swirl in my head usually for a good hour before i fall asleep. and my teeth grind rhythmically with the cerebral elliptical orbiting of these dissatisfying thoughts.
one thing i’m certain of, which scares the knickers off of me, is that i’m afraid of opportunism. and i don’t know why.
also, i really need to get some headshots done. no fucking around erica. get it done this month. and please, for the love of big baby jesus erica, do some sit ups.
Subject: coffee, beer, and a lorna doone.
Time: 2:32 am.
plosives in my lateralization.
it took two hours to get home. now listen, i have a lot of love in this little heart, but i hate the four train.
i almost passed out in the intersection of second and second. but i am resilient, because i eat a lot of rubber bands.
tonight was perfect.
Saturday, February 21st, 2004
Subject: i find it hard to tell you, i find it hard to take.
Time: 9:27 am.
if it is going to rain all day you will find me in my bed.
Friday, February 20th, 2004
Subject: bring your toothbrush.
Time: 8:57 pm.
i've heard from one and i'm moving on.
also, i have a bartending interview in park slope tomorrow. pray that i do not come across as slattern in posture and articulation.
paul. it's now a question of trust and truth. and though i miss the work i do not miss the abuse of my kindness; and the the clumps of hair that would find themselves in shower drains and in the sweaty palms of my hands; and the dirty crack spoons.
this space is slowly filling up.
you should be here. i have a seat for you on my couch, next to me.
Time: 8:01 am.
i was slightly inebriated last night. i came home to an empty house. ate some cookies. and tried to take a late night nap on a very cat-haired couch. but my body was irresolute. and i thought about someone for several hours. maybe this is why i had a hard time sleeping.
my mind just sort of whirls with everything that is going on in my life. and i seem to get more heady when intoxicated. which really clarifies nothing. but it gives me another (altered) perspective on things.
my thoughts in the last few days:
i thought about what it would be like to hit someone, well really what it would be like to set someone's chin on fire (in a mugging scenario).
i thought about how reserved i really am. i need something to shake it up. and i think i know how.
i thought a lot about pinning someone up against the wall, just to smooch.
i thought about whether or not i should have someone edit my play.
Thursday, February 19th, 2004
Time: 2:02 pm.
i went for a walk around midnight last night. to get some air. i trapped myself in my apartment for most of the day. it was something i needed to do. i didn't get too far. as far as key food for half and half and fake-sugar chocolate ice cream. upon walking home i caught myself talking to myself out loud. i don't know how many feet, yards, or blocks i traveled muttering to myself. this is a normal thing for me. but usually it stays in my head, it never projects itself into something audible. though there has been times where i've mouthed my inner monologue, the sounds of only exhaling and the sticky snappy smacking of my lips when they are over-saturated.
i am forcing myself not to clean the apartment, which is proving to be a difficult task at the moment. i need to let things go once in awhile, and i need to forget about order and what other people think of my order or the lack there of.
i like who i am. and i should be happy with that. then why is it i feel so sad.
Wednesday, February 18th, 2004
Subject: wtf.
Time: 10:05 pm.
i hate you life of agony for not playing any fucking shows in your own neighborhood.
jerks.
keith (((((
Time: 4:46 pm.
Music: houston street.
i now want the nike air force one sneakers in black with the gum bottom, gold writing, and the velcro ankle thing. style number 306351- 001, to be more specific.
that is all.
Tuesday, February 17th, 2004
Subject: i don't think we are friends.
Time: 2:54 pm.
Music: npr.
no, not you, or you, yeah you, but you never check this thing, no matter.
i dislike when my momentum falls to the wayside. i'll blame cross-walk lights and drivers that turn corners without yielding to pedestrians.
Monday, February 16th, 2004
Subject: these fucks.
Time: 12:15 pm.
Mood: /\/\/\/\/\.
Music: built to spill.
ransacked my bodega of my ice cream. i waited four years for things to finally come around, and no-carbohydrate diet zealots are usurping from me the only thing i truly love--chocolate fucking ice cream.
Subject: birds of a feather.
Time: 1:23 am.
are happy together.
Sunday, March 7th, 2004
Subject: thirty-two hours.
Time: 11:39 pm.
fucking amazing.
Wednesday, March 3rd, 2004
Subject: i ate half your antioxidant and i'm sorry.
Time: 12:40 am.
and the man on the street said:
"there are two things wrong with clark wallabees, one is that when it rains they get soaked..."
and i said:
"and secondly, they're too expensive."
i think you are amazing. you know who you are. please don't ever run away. things have changed. and they would be different without you.
Sunday, February 29th, 2004
Subject: new found fondness for.
Time: 11:06 pm.
five frozen goldfish treats (eating four, and sharing one).
removing fat.
charades.
the ministry of alcohol.
the staten island ferry.
Saturday, February 28th, 2004
Subject: i'm not moving from this place.
Time: 10:16 pm.
it has been a very long time in having a person, place, or thing to call my own. i've always just been on the periphery of sociality, environment, and personal thought. but, i have this city. it is my home. and i don't want to leave. it has offered to me everything that i've always wanted. it is non-discriminatory of my tastes. it offers me plenty of street lights that are capable of burning out while walking under them. it makes me feel less lonely.
on another note, i met some really great people yesterday.
Friday, February 27th, 2004
Subject: i'm going to tell you a secret.
Time: 11:07 am.
i sang usher outloud in duane reade.
i've been there, done it, humped around.
after all that - this is what i found
nobody wants to be alone
if you're touched by the words in this song
then baby...
HAHAHA KEKEKEKEKEKE HAHAHAHA.
i really do like that song in some twisted way.
(((((
Thursday, February 26th, 2004
Subject: i have been busy.
Time: 1:22 pm.
really great things have been happening.
some (five, i play by the rules!) simple things.
five.
peanut butter.
four.
street light lamp posts either flicking from off to on or on to off when i walk under them.
three.
good eyebrow tweezing session.
two.
being responsible for laughter.
one.
books for less than a quarter.
Wednesday, February 25th, 2004
Subject: i just woke up typos.
Time: 10:29 am.
there was a lot of nudity in my dreams.
i was, partially. and i was in my old room on kingsboro. curtain-less windows. whatever i was doing wasn't p.g. and then i noticed i was being spied upon and i did a stop drop and roll to the safety of my dirty pink itchy bedroom carpeted floor.
following this sequence, as i remember, i found myself in my driveway on kingsboro with dave chapelle. my grandfather and his wench wife were dragging around this little old man who happened to be crazy, without family, aimless, and perverted. connie wanted to pawn him off on dave and i and i remember telling her to shove off. as the story goes, connie had met him one night, at the grocery, or at church, somewhere without my grandfather. thinking the little old man had money she did her thing with him and he became attached and, well, soon following, crazy. i remember connie trying to give my mother and i some whack story (i remember calling her soon as i told connie to get a grip so we could compare connie lies). i remember that i referred to connie as a cunt and dave was surprised at my language. in this dream we were dating. or maybe it was just a sexual thing. i remember him touching my back and i leaning in on his suede leather coat.
and then we, dave and i, are in this strange cafeteria hall train station. somewhat like a lodge next to some tracks. the room was separated, men from women, by the alignment of the tables. jewish men, from jewish woman. facing the tracks i see the women on the left, the men on the right. the women's cafeteria tables ran parallel to the tracks. the men's tables were formated in angles. dave was naked, and also whiter in skin shade, during this segment. he was doing penis tricks for the ladies and taunting the men with racial jokes.
i left the room several times only to find myself in dave's kitchen (he lived in this lodge?) for water. the filtering station in his brita was broken and could only hold about a half of a cup of water at a time without the station sinking and disrupting its purpose--to filter water. in the dream i drank a lot of water. i remember his computer was in the kitchen and i was checking up on his instant messenger slash my space sort of text vehicle. checking who was on his list, if i was listed. and i remember the machine freezing. i remember the paranoia i felt when it would freeze. i remember it freezing and fixing itself one time and when i turned back to the screen to continue lurking dave's files he had a picture of adam on his buddy list. the picture with the bat hat. and i wondered how they knew each other.
i woke when a bald young man in a tight white t-shirt (who happened to be sitting at the head of one of the female tables) asked a question regarding a train that happened to steam by, and somewhere in his vernacular her used the word nig.
Subject: a polite decline. from two resources.
Time: 2:17 am.
i'm so tired. my eyes are itchy.
and now upon an e-mail, an academic e-mail, i am sad.
Monday, February 23rd, 2004
Subject: find this. and send it. and i will love you forever.
Time: 2:07 pm.
Mood: ran three miles, want to die.
half baked™ carb karma ice cream pints.
Sunday, February 22nd, 2004
Time: 10:00 pm.
my life is whirling by, faster and more dizzying than a dervish. and at age twenty-four i’m not exactly where i’d like to be, but i feel like i’m heading in the right direction. my fear exists, though, in this complacency that has consumed my life for the last three years: settling into something where i don’t feel like i belong. rooting myself, comfortably, in the idea that my life will eventually propel itself forward feverishly and successfully some time very soon, and that the only thing i need to hold truth in is time. patience. but aren’t i brimful of patience. has it not been stewing for years. will something break. what does it take. am i going about it wrong. these statements swirl in my head usually for a good hour before i fall asleep. and my teeth grind rhythmically with the cerebral elliptical orbiting of these dissatisfying thoughts.
one thing i’m certain of, which scares the knickers off of me, is that i’m afraid of opportunism. and i don’t know why.
also, i really need to get some headshots done. no fucking around erica. get it done this month. and please, for the love of big baby jesus erica, do some sit ups.
Subject: coffee, beer, and a lorna doone.
Time: 2:32 am.
plosives in my lateralization.
it took two hours to get home. now listen, i have a lot of love in this little heart, but i hate the four train.
i almost passed out in the intersection of second and second. but i am resilient, because i eat a lot of rubber bands.
tonight was perfect.
Saturday, February 21st, 2004
Subject: i find it hard to tell you, i find it hard to take.
Time: 9:27 am.
if it is going to rain all day you will find me in my bed.
Friday, February 20th, 2004
Subject: bring your toothbrush.
Time: 8:57 pm.
i've heard from one and i'm moving on.
also, i have a bartending interview in park slope tomorrow. pray that i do not come across as slattern in posture and articulation.
paul. it's now a question of trust and truth. and though i miss the work i do not miss the abuse of my kindness; and the the clumps of hair that would find themselves in shower drains and in the sweaty palms of my hands; and the dirty crack spoons.
this space is slowly filling up.
you should be here. i have a seat for you on my couch, next to me.
Time: 8:01 am.
i was slightly inebriated last night. i came home to an empty house. ate some cookies. and tried to take a late night nap on a very cat-haired couch. but my body was irresolute. and i thought about someone for several hours. maybe this is why i had a hard time sleeping.
my mind just sort of whirls with everything that is going on in my life. and i seem to get more heady when intoxicated. which really clarifies nothing. but it gives me another (altered) perspective on things.
my thoughts in the last few days:
i thought about what it would be like to hit someone, well really what it would be like to set someone's chin on fire (in a mugging scenario).
i thought about how reserved i really am. i need something to shake it up. and i think i know how.
i thought a lot about pinning someone up against the wall, just to smooch.
i thought about whether or not i should have someone edit my play.
Thursday, February 19th, 2004
Time: 2:02 pm.
i went for a walk around midnight last night. to get some air. i trapped myself in my apartment for most of the day. it was something i needed to do. i didn't get too far. as far as key food for half and half and fake-sugar chocolate ice cream. upon walking home i caught myself talking to myself out loud. i don't know how many feet, yards, or blocks i traveled muttering to myself. this is a normal thing for me. but usually it stays in my head, it never projects itself into something audible. though there has been times where i've mouthed my inner monologue, the sounds of only exhaling and the sticky snappy smacking of my lips when they are over-saturated.
i am forcing myself not to clean the apartment, which is proving to be a difficult task at the moment. i need to let things go once in awhile, and i need to forget about order and what other people think of my order or the lack there of.
i like who i am. and i should be happy with that. then why is it i feel so sad.
Wednesday, February 18th, 2004
Subject: wtf.
Time: 10:05 pm.
i hate you life of agony for not playing any fucking shows in your own neighborhood.
jerks.
keith (((((
Time: 4:46 pm.
Music: houston street.
i now want the nike air force one sneakers in black with the gum bottom, gold writing, and the velcro ankle thing. style number 306351- 001, to be more specific.
that is all.
Tuesday, February 17th, 2004
Subject: i don't think we are friends.
Time: 2:54 pm.
Music: npr.
no, not you, or you, yeah you, but you never check this thing, no matter.
i dislike when my momentum falls to the wayside. i'll blame cross-walk lights and drivers that turn corners without yielding to pedestrians.
Monday, February 16th, 2004
Subject: these fucks.
Time: 12:15 pm.
Mood: /\/\/\/\/\.
Music: built to spill.
ransacked my bodega of my ice cream. i waited four years for things to finally come around, and no-carbohydrate diet zealots are usurping from me the only thing i truly love--chocolate fucking ice cream.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
