Monday, March 29, 2010


1: motherfucker! i am covered in beer.
2: no one cares.
1: i care.
3: i'll get the sponge.
1: please do. oh it's on my shoes.

i can hear the party next door perfectly. their window is open so they can smoke. my window is open because my apartment is a furnace. our windows are perpendicular to each other. i could see them if the angle was right, or i was in the window in the other bedroom.

my roommate is back. i am resisting the urge to be disgruntled about this. i have banished myself to the kitchen. she will sleep soon. when i walked in, we talked for a bit, and that was maybe the most i've said today. yes, it surely was.

no one cares.

where are my fucking cigarettes?
right there
oh shit i found them.
they've been there for like an hour.
how long have i been here
i know right

that's what i'm saying live fast die young.

i been smoking like a year i'm gonna quit when i graduate.
when i'm twenty-one.
right basically when you graduate.

you look really fucked up.
wait do i look really fucked up?
you look really really high.

we're on a college campus right now and we can't find any weed.

i love female dealers!

if you were gay, or you had a gay brother, i'd go for it.

this is the party
your face is the party.

all my smokers in da kitchen.
you're not a smoker.
i quit.

thus ends the transcription of the party next door.

(one more)
"peace the fuck out."

Sunday, March 28, 2010

indian winter. &c. &c. the utter lack of fire.

good night empty house.
i really love you.
when i can go out too late and come back and play cassette tapes as loud or as soft as i want.
no questions asked. the same song on repeat. the same album on repeat. paper walls.

when i impulse bake.
when i walk around half naked.
when the floor disappears.
when i talk to myself and speak less than one hundred words in a day. (so unfamiliar that i offend people when i am in social situations. sorry, nikki, sorry.)
i don't dance and sing nearly enough.
mourn for whatever celebrate whatever,,,,, pulling my eyebrows out in broad daylight and conquering our shared bedroom with collage cut-and-paste and library finds.
at three in the tomorrow the light is on and i haven't finished my homework because i've been out living in suspended nothing and dustbunnies.
our joy-less college apartment, the shared spaces sterile except for mud in the kitchen and floursugarcocoapowder in the bathroom.
if time never passes i never feel guilty. if melodrama was an ingredient i would be tablespooning it in to my cake batter and banana bread. stella adler has nothing to teach me, it's all in my head.
the swimming pool was too cold. so i won't be able to breathe on monday, when i'm there for the first time in two.5 weeks. think of the damage.
i think i've accomplished a lot with my two weeks. well, i've done a lot. accomplished little, depends what angle you take. not a lot of school work. just a lot.

spring break ends tomorrowtoday.
good bye empty house.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

bad haikus for a mounting fear.

(any apparent attempt at rhyme or meter is entirely accidental.)

if you're reading this
i have only one request:
if tomorrow you

wish to go for a
drive on I-80, i ask,
please refrain

for i may just go
insane. for i may have to
drive part of the way

from new york, new york
on to cleveland, ohio
my hands white-knuckled.

i am going on a
trip. a nice craigslist rideshare.
i will drive a bit.

you know, my sewing
teacher always said, if you
can sew, you can drive;

and if you can drive,
you can sew. well, i know i
can still sew. but drive?

i don't know.




do you remember the lyric
"we've lived here for nineteen years but it's hardly our home"
my seventeen-year-old self sure does.
my nineteen-year-old self finds it romantic.

"i'm going into town."

not that there is much to go into town for.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

i'm pulling and all-nighter and writing about shakespeare? it must be wednesday.

i was talking with erin earlier tonight. she was saying that i'm getting bad.
she doesn't think my sleeping and working habits are healthy or something. that i
was so good at the beginning of the year. i would wake up in the mornings.
i overslept this morning for the second time this week. on monday i missed a conference (which is very very bad)
today i missed the driving test that i signed up for.
no big deal, but i'm sure i made someone with a clipboard
and a van
kind of pissed off. which sucks, because that person is probably the same person
who works at the place where i get toilet paper or the person who fixes our shower or something.
someone i don't want mad at me.
it seems like once a week
now, i just sort of concede
to the fact that i probably won't get any sleep that night.

over spring break i will fix.
maybe. i will
break and mend
pollute and fire and finish and stitch,
read and sleep and cacophony and watch and take trains.
and forward motion.
and before spring break i will have to finish this paper.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

last weak.

so here are some midnight cabaret videos from friday, march 5, 2010. our show that week was called "remember the victorious." (see more on our youtube channel!)
you might notice that this week, in an effort to try a new thing, maybe make the show more dynamic, we stole the neo-futurist's use of the word "go!" to start plays.
it helped. i'm sorry if that is somehow legally wrong.
i was in the show and i wrote two of the plays.
here is one.
"whale fridays." (this was the first play of the night, which is why andrew gives that really intense little introduction at the beginning.)
last wednesday, i was sitting in theatre history class, bored out of my mind, thinking about what to write for cabaret. (i do a lot of writing for cabaret in that class beacuse: 1. i hate that class. and 2. it is on wednesday, and wednesday night is the night where we pitch our plays. and 3. if i'm writing i look productive and if not engaged then at least productive, which is always admirable.)
i realized that i never write funny things. i don't know how to write funny things yet. so i decided to start small,
retelling and staging one of my favorite jokes, first told to me last summer by annie burns.
i don't really feel like i have a better handle on writing humor.

and this was my second play in the night's show.
"dear skydivers, i can see your life from here."
no i don't know what the fuck it means. which might make it worthless. i am a-OK with that.
this week i also wanted to try the effect of not casting myself in something i'd written. i suppose this was fairly easy because 1. i felt no intense personal connection to what i'd written, so much that i did not trust it to other performers. and 2. there was nothing that i intensely wanted to do. like cover my face in flour or sick my head in a bucket of water, etc.)

"bus. stop." by nikki.

okay i had nothing to do with this play, i just really like it a lot. (at the very end, there is kind of a loud clatter, and that is nikki (the performer) opening the stage left door and exiting the building.)

okay, one more.
"staring at the sun" by andrew.
well again, i really don't have much to do with this play, well i was in it, but mostly i just dig it. (but man, tv on the radio, you guys sound like fucking genesis or some shit.) i assume it looked even cooler in real life, as the camera can't really fit the whole stage and the camera work is shaky. also for this piece, the girl holding the camera talked rather a lot. she did not trust water onstage. she's a sweetheart.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010



of course.
why didn't i think of that?
so many of the kids around campus who i've been thinking seem really cool,
who i wonder
hey, why aren't we friends
visual arts-types.
or art history-types.
why did i forget all about them?
i forgot that kool kids go to art school and here i am at liberal art school wondering where are the kool kids, and i forget to think "art class." art class? i forgot that was like, a thing, for some reason.

i guess i'll have to take an art class next year.
which i wanted to do anyway.

Monday, March 8, 2010


this time tomorrow.

this time next week.

this time next month.
this time next year.
this time .
this time i am sleepy.

my hair is too long.
this time the weather is nice.

this time next week.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010


don't want to do that anymore.

hey new girl, i'm sorry.
was that you who maybe stared at me, because i was staring at maybe-you
who was out with a group for a cigarette break?
you were too far away for me to tell.
i know i kind of screwed up on saturday.
it was the kind of awkward that made me grit my teeth and wince for days afterward. like right now.
i think i'll call you tomorrow. or maybe text you, which, at least for me, is the communication of cowards.
i think i might be friends-phobic. or making-friends-phobic. which makes me sound autistic, which i am not. so far as i know, i have no problems and i would like to keep it that way. it seems like everyone here has problems. from a "bad back" to know, things far worse and psychological. maybe it isn't just here, maybe it's everywhere. maybe it's our world, too quick to diagnose to make ourselves special. yeah well, i'm allergic to amoxicillin.
do you have problems, new girl?
no disrespect. i love holding people. i want them to get better. whatever better might mean.

for some reason i felt an affinity to you. i assumed we were both in the same position. maybe we are. we should talk some more and find out.
i have a dreadlock and a floral bow in my hair.
you have black hair with pale brown roots. and a ralph waldo emerson tattoo.
is march the lion/lamb month? in like a.....out like a.....
dear new girl, i'm sorry. you share a name with my first best friend.