| should pretty boys and discos distract you from your novel remember i'm awful in love with you. |
[06 Apr 2010|06:55pm] |
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the book of love is long and boring
no one can lift the damn thing
it's full of charts and facts and figures
and instructions for dancing but
i...
i love it when you read to me and
you...
you can read me anything
the book of love has music in it
in fact that's where music comes from
some of it is just transcendental
some of it is just really dumb but
i...
i love it when you sing to me and
you...
you can sing me anything
the book of love is long and boring
and written very long ago
it's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes
and things we're all too young to know but
i...
i love it when you give me things and
you...
you ought to give me pretty things
i...
i love it when you give me things and
you...
you ought to give me pretty things
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[31 Mar 2010|06:00am] |
 day 6 into being 100% broke and i can't stop reading food blogs.
i recall very recently having conversations about peak oil with people who aren't the usual people i have conversations with about peak oil, but i can't recall who they were. i don't know what is happening. i probably should soon get a proper professional haircut if i ever expect to get another job.
i fear becoming my parents.
i wish we were still on the train between portland and chicago. or better yet, i wish we were still in portland and could live at the kennedy school forever. after my grandmother dies i want to steal you away to portland where i will buy a foreclosed home and we'll live happily ever after. |
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[26 Mar 2010|02:59pm] |
Should I bring my pepper spray with me? I've been riding without it a lot. Then again, I'm going through Fair Haven today. I suppose I should grab it. I throw on my hoodie, tie my shoes and carry my bike downstairs and embark on my first journey to my grandmother's house since I've been back from Oregon. I've as of late felt a fair amount of apprehension regarding riding my bike to my Nonnie's house. Whether I go through a very bad neighborhood, or ride on a very ugly strip-mall ridden state highway with the worst driving one can imagine, I am nearly killed each time I go to visit her, only to be berated for living with boys and having part of my head shaved and not being confirmed and not remembering my father. Still I go, and I wish I could say mostly out of guilt, but really mostly because I don't want to be taken out of her will, and partly out of guilt. I'm approaching the red light after the Ferry St bridge and two boys on a shitty, ugly Chinese scooter pass me with one inch of clearance, to turn around and laugh at me. I pull up next to them. I'm hearing them speak amongst themselves speculating if I'm "straight" or about what I possibly may be doing. Without thinking about it, I pull out my pepper spray and spray those motherfuckers thrice and miraculously traffic worked in my favor; I was able to safely go through the red light and out of sight not giving a second thought to what I had done. I arrive at my grandmother's eventually, to be met with negative comments about the way I live my life. I make the decision that it isn't worth the guaranteed risking of my life, or wasting more of my pepper spray, to see someone who is in the process of dying and is a huge jerk. If I loved my grandmother I would take a super long route that avoids the ghetto, but I'm just not willing to waste that much more of my day to see someone who never has anything nice to say about me.
Tonight I am headed to the Chainbreakers meeting. I am on Chapel St, at a red light, behind a car and as far to the right as I can be without being in the dangerous Door Zone. I hear a beep. I make an effort not to assume every beep I hear close behind me is at me for being a cyclist. I ignore the beep. I ignore what I thought was someone yelling to me out their window, "Excuse me?" repeatedly. After the fourth utterance of the phrase, I turn around to see if this person is, indeed, speaking to me. Someone had thought it to be the appropriate course of action to step outside of the car they were in to tell me that the driver of the car in the lane NEXT to them is "trying to get there."
"Dude, I've got the same right to the road as you do; fuck off."
He said nothing and I didn't look back.
I then proceeded, after the light turned green, to go entirely to the left-middle of the lane with my middle finger in the air for a couple of blocks. It felt fucking great and I'm afraid that me feeling so awesome in my ability to silence shitty motor vehicle operators recently might kill me. But really, it isn't my fucking responsibility to try to do what I can['t] to make irresponsible drivers not drive irresponsibly. If someone were to decide to purposely run me over or hurt me because they can't fucking wait to safely pass me, I would want to have stood up for myself.
Yesterday was my last day at SARCO. It was bittersweet. Steve, the vice president, was sad to see me go. I was surprised. I'd been slacking off a bit prior to leaving to go to Oregon for a month, but I suppose nobody had noticed. As much as I complained about SARCO, it was sweet working in a laid-back environment where I was able to get away with a lot, and being fairly well-liked, but they can't afford to pay me anymore. But as they're still trying "to get this ship to take off," or whatever Steve really said, maybe when they figure shit out over there could be another job for me there in the future. So I should keep them in mind. And they will keep me in mind. And maybe unemployment will give me the summer vacation I desperately want.
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[22 Dec 2009|08:24am] |
i feel suffocated. all i want is negative space where i can just exist. perhaps i should move into one of the cheap one-bedrooms at 74 harbour close that softly beckoned to me all of last week. maybe i just need to breathe, to heal. and i know i'll never move away, if i end up alone here, not until after my mother dies.
i want you to make me
i want you to take me
i want you to break me
then i want you to throw me away
no. no. i don't want to be alone. the idea is so lovely, before i realize that i have you and that i don't ever want you to go away. i wish there were a place we could curl up and hide together forever.
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| 85 livingston |
[28 Nov 2009|06:34am] |
After our huge failure of a really really free market I went for a lovely walk around the neighborhood I reside in. I saw a pretty house that I'd never taken notice of prior, on a street I don't usually travel. I rummaged through my bag to find a scrap of paper and a pen and wrote a note that read, "I just wanted to say that I think your house is very beautiful," and dropped it into their mailbox. It felt good. I hope that it's appreciated as much as I appreciated the exterior of their home. It's nice to live in East Rock, where I can go for walks and see pretty things, not ghetto filled with the dregs of society. I just want to appreciate beauty and do nice things.
Earlier when I was cooking with Sara she said that she wishes she could go around to her neighbors and offer food that their household has found and isn't likely to use. I remarked, "It's crazy the kind of world we live in where it would be totally weird to do something nice like that, and it quite possibly wouldn't be trusted. Then again, the kind of world we live in..." (in reality, I most likely totally WOULD take it)
"Yeah, I try not to buy into the whole fear-mongering thing."
"Well, I mean, the reality of the situation is that there IS a lot of crime in New Haven."
"I see more cyclists being hit by cars."
She is right in that there are a lot of cyclists hit by cars - which is certainly very problematic - but there are also a whole lot of muggings and robberies. I was offended by her assertion that there is barely any crime here further than horrible driving. Two months ago Ray's parents' house was broken into while they were home. I don't understand why it's socially unacceptable in this circle to acknowledge that a lot of people in this city commit a lot of horrible crimes. Kids breaking into the Devil's Gear bike shop and stealing $15,000 worth of bikes is absolutely unacceptable, regardless of the fact that they might be younger people without education and regardless of how many high-end racing and time trial bicycles Matt sells. I just don't think it's okay to shrug it off because they are kids who are black and live in a bad neighborhood and Matt sells expensive bikes. I wish everyone here who wants New Haven to be a better place would just give up and we could pool our funds and inhabit an uncharted island and make it the place that we'd want to live in. If only just you and I could.
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[28 Oct 2009|06:32pm] |
Rachel, I wish you were within reach. I can't afford a round trip ticket to Boston and a vegan feast due to my clinging to the vain hope of all that could [have] be[en], but if I could, I would go, to tell you that this isn't where it ends. It's where it only just begins. Growing up is not what is to fear. I once thought it was, and it turns out that I was horribly mistaken.
After all, art school is merely a depository for rich kids who don't want to (and don't have to) grow up. Look at Zach Fox.
I pine for you while I'm making and pouring coffee at work, when I see the "BUNN" coffee maker.
We had the perfect pair of shoes but they were on the wrong feet.
I never have loved anybody else. i never will love anybody else.
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