Friday, October 28, 2005
Ciao.
Monday, October 24, 2005
or
Dead Birds
For those of you just joining the fun, I ask that you take a gander at the painting in the previous post as a point of reference.
II. Her Eyes
The dove,
a quivering white mouth,
Slackened as my sight
Learned glistening leaf
from bird, and
first finger beckoned;
I often speculate
on what became of
the dove
whose skull I scattered
with Father's gun -
whose brain-flecked breast
I left behind
to pine and shrub,
to rain,
and worm -
And dream that
In lives to come
The dove will take her seat
across an aisle
and grant me similar eyes to say
You were the man
who starved my young.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
or
Art About Art For the Sake of Art
The first draft of my final poetry project is due this Friday, gentle readers, and I have only just begun. After lengthy deliberation, I have decided to write a series of ekphrastic poems on my favorite Ferdinand Hodler painting:
My goal is to approach the painting from several very different poetic perspectives. Yesterday, I finished my first rough draft.
I. Part One (Untitled as of yet)
Hodler's vision did not include
The model's pubic hair -
a secondary sex
characteristic
deemed inaesthetic by the Greeks.
We are not surprised, then
To learn that the model did not flinch
When Hodler placed
His brush between
Her legs, and smoothed
The fibrous rill;
Satisfactorily denuded, the girl
Presents a mound
fit for nascent venus by the shore
sacrificial maid
or whore.
When in doubt, write about pubic hair. Comments on the painting, the poem, or both are most welcome.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
2. Find your 23rd post (or close to it)
3. Post the 5th sentence, along with these instructions on your blog.
"Peering intently over his head, I recognize the white tube as a section of PVC pipe."
Thursday, October 20, 2005
or
Don't Worry If It's Not Good Enough For Anyone Else to Hear
Lord only knows what posessed me to do it, gentle readers, but I publicly participated in karaoke. In Ursa's cafe, to be exact. Instead of going home at 10.30pm, I sang to an audience of complete strangers until well past midnight. And you know what? I fucking loved it.
I spent 2 hours there, singing and listening to other people's poor renditions of Queen and Celine Dion. As for myself, I sang "Space Oddity" by David Bowie, "Criminal" by Fiona Apple, and "A Day In The Life" by The Beatles - a fine assembly, if you ask me.
"Space Oddity" didn't garner much applause. However, "Criminal" brought down the house. I did my best Fiona Apple impression, paced the stage, took my floating mic into the audience, danced on a table, lead with my hips, and made eye contact with EVERYBODY. People loved it. "A Day In The Life" went over pretty well, too, because peoople rather wanted me to do another number. (I should have done "Bohemian Rhapsody," but that's ok. There's always next time.) I recited the words with candor and a few ad lib bits of choreography. It got a couple of claps. My friend David looked at me like I was insane when I stared into his eyes, singing "I'd love to tu-u-u-rn . . . y-o-o-u-u . . . o-o-on . . ."
Gentle readers, I've come to the conclusion that I really, truly, deeply enjoy karaoke. If they hadn't broken down the equiptment at midnight, I would have stayed all night, singing every Beatles song they had, moving on to Aerosmith and The Doors when they ran out. I fear the day that I find karaoke when I'm drunk!
Never felt so good in my LIFE.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Saturday, October 15, 2005
or
What Happened To Your Face?
Oh, gentle readers, I woke up with the worst of headaches. And I didn't even earn it in my cups. You see, last night, a friend of mine - we'll call him Barry - suddenly decided to display his physical prowress by slinging me over his shoulder. Barry is a formidable, rather ursine fellow. Under normal circumstances, I'm sure he would have performed the feat easily. However, in his inebriated condition, he could not grasp my inverted body tightly enough to prevent calamity. I fell straight over his shoulder and landed head-first on the sidewalk.
I, for one, predicted neither the grapple nor the fall, and was quite surprised to find myself swiftly and thoroughly acquainted with the pavement. Luckily, I sustained only minor injuries. The top of my skull bore most of the impact, resulting in an angry welt and several abrasions on my scalp. My right cheekbone appears to have a combination scrape and a compression bruise on it. Scuffed up my left hand a bit. Bruises on my knees. And I can't really turn my head side to side, because it feels like it's been painfully locked in place.
I can only imagine what the scene must have looked like to an outside observer. Probably like WWF from hell.
And yes, Barry felt very very VERY sorry about it. He is forgiven. But it'll be a long time before I allow myself to be picked up again by ANYONE.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
I remember toying with my preoperational classmates in Kindergarten. One boy, I recall, had not yet mastered conservation of matter. When he announced that his snack - a single muffin - was not going to slake his insatiable hunger, I told him that he should crumble the muffin and see what happens. He did as I suggested.
Because the confection, when crumbled, increased in volume, he assumed that he had spontaneously created more muffin than he had originally possessed! Boy, did I ever get a kick out of that! Haha! Stupid child!
I thought he was inferior, until recently. Now I know he was just developing on the normal path of preoperational cognition, while I, somehow, had advanced a bit farther.
Piaget is my bitch.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Yes, ladies, this means I'm single.
God, I do miss him.
It feels a bit like watching a stranger stroll into the Arc Lab with his ID card in his mouth, and place it, fresh from his moist lips, in the palm of my hand.
It feels like arson.
And sometimes it feels like walking through the filth-scented warmth that seeps up through sewer grates on a cold day.
I don't have a word for it.
It's the satisfaction I derive from picking at the ingrown hairs on my bikini line with a flame-sterilized needle.
Like licking a drop of blood from the back of my hand, and realizing, when I taste the iron, that I am unsure whether or not the blood was mine.
As if I had swallowed a coarse red hair.
Or left my favorite necklace on the refrigerator.
Or had broken a capillary that wasn't mine to break, or laughed out of spite.
Like sleeping, wrapped in a sheet, in an unmade bed. And sometimes it feels . . . sometimes it feels absolutely fantastic.
Friday, October 07, 2005
I don't even want to know what goes on in Katie Holmes's head these days. God. I'm going to feel really bad for her if or when (probably when) Tommy Boy walks.
Better you than me, sistah!
I do believe that Student Life publishes an online version of its articles. I'll let you know when it's up so EVERYONE can read it. Because I know you're just dying to know my opinions on bartending.
*sighs listlessly*
And to think I could have been a novelist . . .
Women:
-clutch things: bags, jackets, their own arms --> especially when walking alone or when approached by male stranger. WHY?
- when posing for photo, strike "cute" or "sultry" pose
- walking in groups, not afraid in brush into one another
- mutual preening gestures, shrill vocalizations on greeting (not all, but more often than men)
- lie down on grass and stare at sky together --> I assume unlikely to see in male pairs
- more fitting clothing, flamboyant colors, more frequently adjust clothing
Men:
- greet each other with vigorous hand-clasps, partial embraces where only the arms touch and leave about 12 inches between chests
- in passing, do not smile as often as female pairs do. merely a curt nod and vague point/wave at times
- when posing for photo, flex muscles or look stiff/nervous
- walk alone with open posture, though often hands in pockets
- no mutual preening gestures between men. Do we have any same sex couples on Wash U campus? Where are the Gays and Lesbians!? I want some diversity, goddamn.
W/M:
- increased rate of preening gestures. observed mutual preening between sexes
- women make their posture more rigid when approached by males. Group of females hid their lunches and began to preen immediately when solitary male approached them.
- Women appear to either diminish or accentuate their breasts with their posture in mixed sex group
- men smile more often in mixed sex group than in male only group
- Mother/Father/Son --> mother appeared to follow son, father acted as if he were not actually with them both, but just happened to be nearby. Mother preened son. Father did not look at son directly when addressing son
- when sitting together, men take up more space with thier bodies (reletively) than women. women attempt to look smaller? clutched own arms, crossed legs, rigid. men sit back in chair and drape arms over things
It's all very interesting, but what does it mean?
I was rather dissappointed that I didn't see any same-sex couples displaying affection, nor individuals who visibly defied the norms of gender behavior. What does that say about Wash U?
And furthermore, what if I did a field study that took socioeconomic status and/or race into account? All I saw were relativly affluent college students and their parents - caucasian for the most part. Maybe I should do this again on my own time somewhere else. Maybe the ghetto. Maybe the loop. It's something to think about.
Monday, October 03, 2005
Glamour Goth
What Kind of Goth Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
your a dark magic user! you are pure evil, and hate
all things except for darkness. you are very
skeptical of people, and probably in the past
you have been hurt. when you trust, you trust
deeply and with all your heart.
what would you be in a fantasy world? (amazing pics!)
brought to you by Quizilla
You are Lust!
What it is:The least worst of the sins.It is
the desire for sex even if they're not married
to you.
Punishment in Hell:Smothered in fire and
brimstone.
Animal:Cow.
Color:Blue.
Demon:Asmodai.
Which Of the 7 Deadly Sins Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Kinky Leather
You are Kinky Leather underwear. Even though you
are uncomfortable and warm, a lot of people
choose you. You are sexy and exciting and
represent something somewhat forbidden. The
main purpose for you is to be as hot and nauhty
as you possibly can. You're probably coming off
soon anyway, so you don't have to stay fresh.
You love to join your owner in trying new
things. Especially strange things. You don't
come out much except in certain situations, and
that can give you a narrow view of the world.
What type of underwear would you be?
brought to you by Quizilla
You're Adolf Hitler! You are rascist and you judge
people. You weren't always like that though,
you /really/ wanted to be an artist....too bad
the world turned you down. But that doesn't
mean you should kill a certain race and try to
take over the world....
Which famous (or infamous) person are you a reincarnation of?
brought to you by Quizilla
The last time I tried to do this was on friday, a mere sixty minutes before my Social Psychology exam. An hour, I thought, would be sufficient to cram six chapters of material down my aching gullet. No problem. I'd done it a bajillion times before.
So, after Women's Studies, I hunkered down with my books at a long table in Whispers cafe. Sixty minutes. There would be no time to spare.
No sooner had I opened my textbook, than a bum - a grizzled, toothless man of the streets - sat down across from me. My nose detected him well before he introduced himself. If I had to guess, I'd say that his last shower must have been two weeks ago, give or take a night in a dumpster. He smelled of carrion and sour butter.
A moment later, one of my friends (we shall call her Carrie) sat down next to me, across from the homeless fellow. The two of them set up a chess board between themselves. The bum proceeded to instruct Carrie in chess strategy - a lesson which culminated in an animated practice game punctuated by his lisping commentary.
Because my time was so short, I could not get up and wander the overcrowded cafe until I found another table. And yet, I could neither drown out their conversation (I had forgotten my headphones), nor rid my nostrils of the bum's repulsive odor.
I'm not a cruel person. I try hard to avoid making arbitrary judgements of my fellow man. However, this bum smelled so bad, it was all I could do to keep from wretching. The funny thing is, Carrie didn't seem to notice his fragrance at all.
Such an environment was not at all condusive to cramming. My test score reflects that fact. I'm surprised I passed.
Saturday, October 01, 2005
(Content: Rated M for Mention of Money shot and Marijuana)
Sex with crazy co-ed webcam girl, drinking beer with bondage sluts. When I grow up, I want to be a MILF hunter. Ass horsefucks the pimp bitch nipple. I am a pair of huge breasts, gigantic breasts, big tits, big titties, and natural to boot.
She was a drunken high school girl, and later a drunken college girl - an asian girl among all those latino (latina) girls in her sexy sorority. Japanese bondage never appealed to her as much as spanking, money shots, real life sluts, real live amateurs, sex, sex, and more sex. Pussy and marijuana. I once blew a line of coke off of Jenna Jameson's rack. Jack Daniels. Wall to wall cocks.
If that doesn't get the attention of the search engines, I don't know what will.
My friends and I hung out in the pit, right up against the stage, blinded by stage-lights and deafened by the stacks (earplugs are a must). The band played two beautiful, rollicking, continuous sets of what I can only describe as live techno. Alan told me that most of Umphrey's McGee's music is notated. The band has a score for every song! That explains their symphonic vibe, I guess. Beautiful stuff, prime organization, intense harmonics and rhythms. I would go to another show in a hot second.
And everybody was dancing, dancing, swaying into each other, completely focused on the power of sound. We raised our arms together. We laughed and screamed. The band crushed our shyness between their fingertips. I will not soon forget their passion, their facial expressions. I've never had so much fun at a show. Goddamn.
Gentle readers, if you ever get the chance, you MUST see Umphrey's McGee.
