Hannah: I just had the worst day/ two weeks of my life, and I thought you should know…. I suck at everything. I got a bullshit B- on an English paper that is worth 20% of my grade, then a major Spanish project complete with presentation today, and an 80 on a Latino test.

Me: That’s not even bad, dude.

Hannah: AND OPRAH IS ONLY DOING ONE MORE YEAR! WTF

Me: WHAT THE FUCK NO MORE OPRAH?

Take 5 words given by the last person, and write something about each of them. Reply, and I will give you 5 words.

Future
Michigan
Poetry
Girls
Determinism

I was never as staunchly against determinism as I was against the stigma attached to being someone who believes in it. I couldn’t get past the idea that I could be powerless to change the future no matter how many box tops I collected or kids I persuaded to sign Lansing’s Go Green pledge. No matter how many compliments I dispensed or insults I didn’t. Listen. No matter how many times you tell your dog you love them, they’re still going to die with the language comprehension of a 2-year-old. Listen to me while I tell you that’s not so bad.

Your life is not a Greek tragedy. Fate is not a supernatural phenomenon. Time is not the concrete of your front steps or branches of your ash tree. What you need to know about the future is it happens the way it was always going to happen, on a singular track from the Big Bang to the Apocalypse, into our laps and out of our control. Listen. This doesn’t mean stop trying.

( Read more... )

You       lent
me        If Not, Winter and all
I           've done is look at it thinking of what
you       said about typesetting.

Now that midterms are effectively over, I'd like to take this time to share the infinite wisdom of my instructors. (Note the lack of John Rowland quotes. Yeah. I know.)

Ruetsche
—It is raining! It is not raining! All circles are squares! ...Philosophy cannot teach us what to believe.

Ruth Scodel
—How many of you grew up in the U.S. and have never heard of Samson and his hair and Delilah and the temple? (50+ hands go up) …Holy shit.
—The thing about sex with a goddess is you can usually only do it once.
—“How to destroy a business: Gambling is the fastest. Sex is the most enjoyable. Computers are the most effective.”

Elizabeth
—(frequently) What time is it? We only have five minutes left? Are you serious? We really only have five minutes? Shit.

( Lucia )

I am unabashedly unoriginal when it comes to Halloween costumes. I sometimes take quizzes on the internet that promise to reveal, in their expert opinions, what I should be for the holiday. But the answers always come up something like "traffic light" or "hot dog", and I give up. I'll just be Scream.
One time we went trick-or-treating in East Lansing, and I dressed as a vampire, complete with white face makeup and store-bought blood in which I managed to leave my fingerprints on everything I touched. The bathroom sink. Her pressed white shirt. My favorite stuffed animal.

All of this, even though the closest I've ever come to understanding vampires was last Summer when we flipped your van over on our way to TJ's open house and I woke up that night to the dog drinking blood out of my shoes.

A few years ago, I was a pirate. All this really meant was that I wore a hat and a hook and an eye patch Margret's grandma fashioned for me out of string and some paper. We joked about how I was the worst pirate you ever saw, but I never mentioned you were the best friend I ever had and that wasn't a costume.
We got older and bobbed for apples in your bathtub. We got older still and played spin the bottle in Paul's basement. I was bobbing for attention in boys' underwear. But we kept getting older, spray painting over every one of your neighbors' George W. Bush signs because at our age it was the closest we could get to the polls.

What do I do now that I've outgrown my Superman costume? And my clown costume. I've outgrown setting fires in the chimineya and sitting around your kitchen playing telephone. Never thought I'd outgrow you.

Lucia says the problem with life is that we have to go through it without elliptical editing. But, me, I don't have to. Sometimes I cut from a shot of us clapping for Buddy Wakefield to a shot of my arms around her. I cut to a shot of me pressed up against another girl pressed up against her bedroom wall—from a shot of her clothed to unclothed to kneeling in front of me like El Greco's St. Francis, and it doesn't matter if anything happened in between. Nothing happened. Inhaling happened.

Cut to a shot of me sitting across from Alex in the lounge. Writing this. Cut to a shot of the bathroom down the hall—to how you can only run into someone in the shower so many times before picturing them naked and shivering. The first time I met her, I shook for two whole days, until the shepherds came bearing knives.

The Elephant Engine High Dive Revival and Andrea Gibson and emoshoppingcart were right: Today is the best day ever.

Today is the best day ever because I listened to Alexander Perchov speak premium English.
Because my roommate got so excited about the street-view feature on Google maps that I pretended I didn't know about it before, either.
Because I sat in the lounge listening to Kathy's music and derived K from the premise M & ~M.
Because it rained outside.
And because it didn't inside.
Today is the best day ever because my heart really did go pump-pump.
Because Aisha wrote poetry on her hand in order to remember it, and I read from her hand in order to hold it.
Because when I asked how many?, she pulled her hair back and counted all the piercings in her ears.
Because I only stuttered  a few times.

Because her name forms the first part of I should have, and there's nothing in my conscience to follow that.

For thousands of years, The Tanakh has been blindly celebrated as the global authority on Rabbinic Judaism. As The Qur’an guides those of Islamic faith, The Śruti guides those of Hindu faith, and the Twilight series guides those of vampiric faith, The Tanakh directs people who believe strongly in the Oral Torah. However, it has few clear moral directives for Orthodox readers who choose to interpret it literally. With the magnificent tone and characterization of an action-adventure story, the Jewish Bible reads like fiction even from Genesis.

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Untitled.wav

Move-in Makers shift soon. People are finally moving into Thronson. Duncan is here!
Real update later.

Hey, you’re a liar dressed in thieves’ clothes
the town ignored but the land exposed:
Only liars can leave footprints where they haven’t even walked.
So when the door closed like Notus’s breath
and we all flushed white from secrets kept,
you stood sick with things I told you, though we never even talked*

 

( Read more... )

Gravitational lensing proves that even empty space isn't really empty; history proves that even Sibel Edmonds misspeaks. Even Piaf has dropped a note, and Hank Aaron has dropped a baseball. There's no such thing as being alone.

Conqueror by trade,
Paul is the Indiana
Jones of the Bible.

Here's a sample of the new song. Lyrics to follow... eventually.
Deus ex Machina.wav

First draft of the music to this lyric, courtesy of Finale Songwriter 2007 and technical help from novel_escapist.

The Protocletos Trials.WAV

Philosophy 296: Honors Intro to Logic
Great Books 191 (Honors)
German 232: Intro to German Film
Screen Arts and Cultures 236: The Art of Film

My roommate at orientation went to Frat parties and drank and asked if my tattoos hurt.
Well, yeah.
They did.


Does it hurt being stupid?

Fiona Apple's Extraordinary Machine
Arcade Fire's Funeral
Frou Frou's Details
Julia Nunes's I Wrote These
Regina Spektor's Begin to Hope
Ani DiFranco's Self-titled
Streetlight Manifesto's Somewhere in the Between

( New tattoo, btw )

Hey. Hi. Haiku. What if I were a screenwriter as a career?
Emerson and Mona must dig deep within themselves to save their friendship with each other and to uncover what they’ve christened “the art of knowing Julia”. Haven't you heard?

Spent the day outside Soaring Eagle casino in Mount Pleasant developing a tan line on my neck from the sun and VIP pass. Cooling off in Robbie Knievel's RV. It was absolute mindless entertainment at a suggested retail value of $52. Robbie's a nice guy and all, but I wouldn't pay him a cent because he's so rich already and because his little pyrotechnic motorcycle demos pollute the earth for no reason.

Your sleeve is a trap, and your room was a laboratory
where we couldn’t tell we went until we came;
the way pointillist art, in all its glory,
is invisible when you’ve got your nose upon the frame.
And over there in the vials—there above open flames—
were the greenest irises I had ever seen.
Harder than both covers that our parents’ Good Book claims
and more complex than any written verses between.

( Read more... )

 

We have been waiting for this day longer than we will readily admit. Now that we are here, we have plenty of people for whom to be thankful. Thanks to our principal, Mrs. Dickson, who announced my valedictorian status this year and suspended me for throwing water balloons out the window Freshman year.

( The theme was Dr. Seuss, and I didn't choose it. )

What has all the glorious nonsense of a children's tale,
but half the brutal suspense of standing naked on your window sill?
I'm knocking quite on your door. I'm modern bedroom décor,
and when snow fell on the capital, I put a letter in the mail.
I want a woman who always needs to travel lightly
and plant obligatory seeds to grow up but never look just like me.
A backpack, not a suitcase. I'll meet you in outer space,
and we'll become the familiar nexus between lost and floating free.
( Read more... )

Oh my gosh, what kind of sick conspiracy is this, LIVEJOURNAL?