Hayyyyy Sunday

I just took a two hour nap

And woke up to... a massive paper to write. In french. Get out the 501 French verbs book...

Round One

Finished with round one of college essays! Ding Ding

I'm petsitting for Shimmer, but it's bittersweet going into Orlee's house errrry day when she's not there .

Earth Club Tomorrow!

November 21, August 21

I slept, but my eyes sill fuzz in and out in front of the computer screen. One more night of scanning. Staying in is driving me crazy.

I had not showered since Thursday, and it was not the good kind of dirty. That kind of dirty when I've been sleeping on the floor, or the surrounding smoke has fuzzed the tips, or I've had bad coffee and leaned my head up against a gritty wall - not that kind. Just straight dirty.

I biked there, it was about seven in the morning. And I realized how much I missed the early air. That teenage escapism of the morning, the morning after the night. The secret I shared with the poor men who awoke at 4 a.m. to deliver the paper to the residents of Whitefish Bay, residents who leave their bikes safely parked in their driveway. The secrets with the birds, who have just woken up. I whisper to them "Quiet little birds, please let me have a little more night." But of course they don't care what the hell I have to say about their morning.

The black trees against the sky form the patterns of youth and although you haven't slept you feel awake. The bike from his house to mine was never too long. I shouldn't say never - those times when my parents say I must be home at midnight but I don't care because five more minutes with him is worth being yelled at for. So I would stretch out the goodbye, squeeze in an extra kiss, or six, and then arrive home at 12:03 with no breath, racing my own mind down the streets and up the hills. I would glimpse the lake, early, in the morning the ride was slowly awesome.

Anyway, the day passed. I pulled two perfectly good bouquets of flowers out of the trash and stuck them in my bike basket. They jutted out as I biked home. When I reached my street I found a squirrel.

It was dead, in the center of my street. I circled it on my bike, over and over, until my mind felt felt like when you're sick and thirst claws but your body is weak and you imagine getting up and moving to the sink so many times you think you have. I circled this squirrel a lot. It had not been run over - it was whole, with its gentle little paws curled under it's damp and feathery breast. It's black eye was open, almost a slit. How was it so whole, so completely perfect? Had it just up an died in the middle of the street? I circled, I circled, and then I headed home.

Once, when I was going to his house in the middle of the night, I found a pidgin with no head. It had a tag on it's foot, but it had no head. I was scared, and biked more quickly. It died under a sign, by the Catholic school, that said - "Parents - help keep drugs out of Whitefish Bay." It was misty that night, creepy - I was happy when I arrived in his room.

We watched T.V., then fell asleep around 3, as usual. I slept for an hour, then tried to drag my bones out of his bed while my phone alarm chimed. I got on my bike, covered with dew, and biked home in the peering light. The sun was teetering on the edge of the lake. I re-entered my house.

I slept, but my eyes sill fuzzed in and out in front of the computer screen. One more night of scanning. Staying out was driving me crazy.

What A Man, that Bukowski

8 count

BY CHARLES BUKOWSKI

from my bed

I watch

3 birds

on a telephone

wire.

one flies

off.

then

another.

one is left,

then

it too

is gone.

my typewriter is

tombstone

still.

and I am

reduced to bird

watching.

just thought I'd

let you

know,

fucker.

http://lacedwithreality.blogspot.com

Infinity

Cheesecake Factory

twisted arms in between my growing-sore-er back

tell me that it is time to seep

time to sleep

and let the rings remove themselves

Essay Writing

I'm applying to 12 schools

and that means lots of supplemental essays

so I will be up tonight...

I Feel Particularly Un-Loved Today

sometimes i think this is true

Reading

Italian Vouge 1995

...

I'm Obsessed with Bananas

In Barbara Kingsolver's book Animal Vegetable Mineral she argues that eating bananas are completely unsustainable because it takes so many fossil fuels to get them to our plates. I agree completely.

I am a vegetarian and I make vegan choices

I am a dirty environmental hippy

I ride my bike everywhere

but i love bananas

and so to Barbara I say

I

don't

care

But I Take My Time

Brown was completely pervasive. The carpets wild pattern, the musty smell of pot and cigarettes eaten up by the fake fire burning in the corner, the out of tune piano, the hulking base that was being joyously strummed - all brown. James smirked wild as the whisky tipped into his face, his stringy hair revealing that he had taken to eating prescription pills alone in his bathroom.

I ventured to dance, setting out alone in the small place and waiting for others to follow. They didn't, but my arms waved more wildly and my hair seems to know that in front of my face was the best place to be, shielding me from eyes I had not seen.

James strung himself up and swayed next to me, his bottle clutched against his skinny self, out of beat with the music. I always knew the correct beat, nine years of wearing tights and hairspray caused an internal sense of rhythm never erased.

The remains of James' childhood smirked out the corners of his mouth as if it could not believe the future. This curiousness was revealing, his laugh remained intact, and directed at me.

"What do you think of me" I ventured, tipping closer to him.

"You're fucking goofy"

I nodded and turned

"If you ever want to get drunk at a party, bring your own whisky. No one likes whisky" he lectured, taking a swig

"neither do you," I told him, "it's simply coffee and cigarettes, what you don't like at first but then force yourself to and before long you can't have life without it"

I remember almost crying, I remember the way the fire ate nothing but burned and burned, I remember the floor, cold, the car cold. The dancing found us all in a pile, blankets magically appeared. The night was navy, November, and the sick sleeping feeling persisted.

We all watched the sun rise. We all almost cried, but the hour of waiting in the stiffness of early morning caused our tears to slip up our noses and into our stomachs. Hunting season had started, and the quiet was pierced with black bullet shots in the distance. It was too profound for any of us to grasp, and Ned had forgotten his camera, so we could not endlessly recall the moment at later dates when we though we had discovered what the moment meant.

Bagels, coffee, and cigarettes were in order. The morning had peaked, and now we were no longer mystical, but a few hungover teens. I was wearing my long underwear at breakfast. I left while the others smoked and nested in the back of Evan's car, next to a broken VCR and a poster of Bob Dylan. The seats were down, there was a thin flannel blanket that my smoke- drenched head rested on.

I rode in the back seat with my stomach sideways and my body hugging my long underwear.

I got home, sat on my floor naked, and ate a green apple, my favorite kind.

It was November.

And I met you there, among people who's significance I could only guess.

Lake Como

I'm craving Europe! The above are my brother and me in Italy.

I think I'll attempt to make a chocolate soufflee later today - after I finish five papers that are sitting on my desk...

An Ode Gerald Schmitz

How lucky my shirt
Is tucked into my pants
And secured by a belt
(tee tom tee tom)

Otherwise i might squirt
From a soon heightened stance
A look that would melt
(tee tom tee tom)

So tempted to blurt
Put the hat on and dance
Your head i would smelt
(tee tom tee tom)

My mind is quite curt
Slice your head with a lance
Frustration is felt!
(tee tom tee tom)

finite?

Hi

New Life

"Suddenly one of these gypsies, in trembling opal, seizes a cocktail out of the air, dumps it down for courage and, moving her hands like Frisco, dances out alone on the the canvas platform. A momentary hush, the orchestra leader varies his rhythm obligingly for her, and there is a burst of chatter... The party has begun."

~ The Great Gatsby

FRUSTERATION

I miss people more then anything.

I miss gus's mockery.

I miss sam's whoop.

I miss ian's stride.

I miss case's wince.

I miss pete's hair.

I miss pat's laugh.

I miss joe's glance.

I miss orlee's self.

Winnie the Pooh

COTTLESTON PIE

Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,

A fly can't bird, but a bird can fly.

Ask me a Riddle and I reply:

Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie.

Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleson Pie,

A fish can't whistle and neither can I.

Ask me a riddle and I reply:

Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie.

Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,

Why does a chicken, I don't know why.

Ask me a riddle and I reply:

Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie.