let's get it understood

you find the weirdest crap when you clean. i've found copies of just about every story i've written, plus my contemporary american fiction final exam essay masterpiece. it features the grandmother from flannery o'connor's 'a good man is hard to find,' connie from joyce fucking carol fucking oates' 'where are you going, where have you been?', the narrator from 'sonnie's blues,' kurt vonnegut, and sylvia plath discussing contemporary issues, things that really mattered in 2003, like freedom fries. plath, at one point, says sagely, 'me and the french have something in common. we were both controlled by nazis.'

it ends with nick sharp, respected associate chair of the english department, burning down the restaurant ('it feels like an oven in here.'- plath), yelling, 'look upon me! i'll show you the life of the mind!' and shooting the grandmother. the last line of the play is given to vonnegut: 'so it goes.'

i'm not posting that now.

instead, i'm posting an exercise i wrote for the wretched cheryl pallant, whom bill and nick both told me not to take.

the assignment was to write about a life-changing decision, in the style of a fairy tale. enjoy!

smoke clears

once upon a time, there lived an absurd, naive nymphet named francoise.

francoise lived in the town of suburbia, and tranquil little niche of a tourist attraction, quaintly adorned with a rather attractive artificial beach and scant of profanity. the wky was always blue with fluffy clouds, for the most part, and if it wasn't, people pretended it was. daffodils bloomed in spring, daffodils bloomed in summer, daffodils bloomed in the dead of winter, daffodils bloomed in between sidewalk cracks. it was always t-shirt weather in suburbia.

francoise hated it there.

one day, she escaped the fairy tale and moved to a modest city, marlboro. francoise immediately fell in love with marlboro because it was so different from suburbia. it rained.

there was one thing she didn't like, though: the nefarious ruffians who poured their lives and pay checks into dreadful cigarettes. there was nary an entrance to a building that didn't have legions of smokers crowded around it.

'they're everywhere!' she thought with angst. 'oh, how i detesst them so!'

francoise brought the back of her hand to her forehead, lifted her chin, closed her eyes, and held this position for several seconds to emphasize the dramatic effect.

until, that is, she got a quick qhiff of the cigarette fumes, and she doubled over in hyperbolized hacking.

the next day, fracoise was walking to a used book store, leering at smokers along the way, she ran into her friend, marlowe as she was about to cross the street. marlowe was all decked out in film noir, and he was smoking a cigarette. francoise had never seen him smoke before.

'marlowe, how could you?' she cried, fighting back tears. 'i am vexed!'

'shut up. people don't really talk like that.' marlowe exhaled smoke in a steady stream. 'we're all going to die anyways.'

francoise thought, 'he's right.'

she brushed her hair away from her face. 'you know, marlowe, at first i thought smoking was disgusting, but i'm very much attracted to you, so now i find it quite sexy.'

marlowe replied, 'that's great.'

her offered her a cigarette. francoise took it and put it to her lips. marlowe flicked his zippo.

cheers.






don't you just love the rampant passive voice? huzzah!

i know. it's beige. i don't have time to fix it now. the three people who read this, well, you'll just have to deal until i can fix it.

if that's how you even spell it.

this post is going to be random. as i have not finished my orgasmic bauhaus post of doom. or even started it.

1. there is much drama in my life that i don't want to get into. i don't even want to think about it. i've done enough crying.

2. i think levi levi from my life with the thrill kill kult wants to fuck me sideways.

3. 'narnia' sucked. the kids weren't *that* bitchy in the books. lucy looks like charlotte morse as a child (our venerable chaucerian scholar who has no shame in writing 'this is shit' on the thesis papers of undergrads who don't know any better). peter has gay porn hair. and he holds his sword like he takes it. i don't remember susan being that much of a cunt in the books. i guess that's character development for ya. i'm glad that they made edmund as much of a pissant as he was in the book. tilda swinton, as always, delights, but not in the ways of 'young adam' (i worked all day on this custard!). ray winstone and dawn french were awesome. michael madsen should do cartoon voices.

4. 'too clever by half' is about gertrude stein.

5. i'm planning a jesus double feature with 'the passion of the christ' followed by 'jesus christ superstar.' i'm also planning dinner to go along with it. whatever it is, it'll include my very own gethsemane salad (mixed spring greens, olives, and caesar dressing).

6. drama. fucking hell.

7. going to crate & barrel later to buy my mom new wine glasses for christmas. i'm also going to get her a giant bottle of sutter home white zinfandel. i was thinking about a nice rose. but as dustin pointed out: 'you could get her a nice rose, but she won't appreciate it as much as a giant bottle of sutter home.' he's right. it's like how i'm going to buy my brother a sweater from old navy, because he won't appreciate anything nicer from, say, gap.

8. i *heart* david j. dustin already called dibs on kevin ('though it's clear that daniel and i were meant to be'- dustin). everyone else is fighting over daniel and peter like a pack of starving wolves. no one loves david. no one sees how he's the best musician in the band, the best songwriter, the sexiest. (oh yes!) but i'm not blind. i see it. i see it as clear as day. a very clear day, in fact.

9. my goal is to have my room painted by christmas. which may or may not happen, depending on whether i can get motivated enough to clean.

10. necessito un trabajo. ahora!

i just got this in my inbox:

Congratulations!

You have achieved an outstanding academic record at VCU and are eligible to make application for a student scholarship to be awarded to junior level students through the Honor Society of Phi Kappa Phi in recognition of outstanding scholastic performance. The Honor Society of Phi Kappa Phi is the only University honor society recognizing scholastic excellence in all fields of study.

Two $1,000.00 undergraduate student scholarships for continuing study at VCU will be awarded in spring semester, 2006, by the College of Humanities and Sciences. From the two students chosen, the College will nominate one candidate for a $2,500.00 University Wayne C. Hall Scholarship to be awarded for 2006-2007 to pursue undergraduate studies at VCU. To be eligible for either award, you must plan to be enrolled in at least twelve credits in the Fall, 2006, semester, and at least twelve credits in the Spring, 2007, semester. The application is available at:
http://www.vcu.edu/phikappaphi/scholars/students.html

There is also a National Phi Kappa Phi Graduate Fellowship award for a graduating senior who will be attending graduate school; we will submit one nominee for consideration by our chapter from the College of Humanities and Sciences. Each Phi Kappa Phi Chapter will then nominate only one student from its pool of applicants for this national award. VCU’s nominee will automatically receive the $2,500 Lauren A. Woods Scholarship. The application is available at: http://www.phikappaphi.org/gradfellow.shtml. You may type information directly onto the Graduate Fellowship form and then print the form. The form can be saved with Adobe Acrobat 4.0 or 5.0. Obtaining the application form (with instructions) by early January is strongly encouraged.

Please read the enclosed information, give the recommendation forms to two faculty members of your choice, and return your essay and resume by 10 A.M., Wednesday, January 25, 2006, to Ms. Heather H. Williamson, Phi Kappa Phi Scholarship Selection Committee, College of Humanities and Sciences, 701 W. Grace Street #1511. Don't forget to make certain that your faculty recommendations have been forwarded to me by that date also.

It is your responsibility to make certain that two letters of recommendation arrive in 701 W. Grace St. #1511 by 10 A.M., Wednesday, January 25, 2006. Applications with less than two letters will be disqualified and not considered. In addition, you must notify me (hhwillia@vcu.edu) of your intention to apply for this scholarship by Wednesday, January 18, 2006.

Sincerely yours,

Heather H. Williamson
Director of PRISM and Special Projects



what the hell is wrong with this school? do they just have a database of 'at least a junior and not yet graduated with a gpa of 3.8 or whatever the standards are these days?'

i'm tempted to apply for it, like i've done for the past 4 years, and not win it, like i've done for the past 4 years. but i don't think i'm up for it.

though it would be fun to write the essay: why i withdrew from all my classes during my last semester to follow bauhaus and refinish furniture.

maybe then they'll give me money. because i'm well rounded. and not just in my tits. i'm well-versed, well-traveled. i'm the modern renaissance woman. which is really a scary thought, when you come to think of it.

well, someone's got to be it. and i don't see any of those honor students stepping up to the plate.

so.

eno.

helped.

coldplay.



eno...what the fuck is wrong with you?!

first you try to write funk.

dude. you're white. but we were willing to forgive. and, with time, forget.

then, you make u2 grammy winners. we saw that coming. but for real. 'peace on earth'?!?! let's all lose neck support!

all together now!

2 songs off his new album were good. another one was 'charming.' but really, eno, you have lost your charm, your finesse, your genius.

we shall never have another 'music for airports.' this is sinking in now. i can accept this. i can move on.

in other news, i hate the emo boys.

they live under us. they drink beer on the front porch and think that they're making a statement when they leave their cans on the steps, when really all they're doing is letting the world know that they drink shitty beer. they're in a 'band.' which i guess means that they feel justified in playing semi-scales till 4 in the morning because life is really rough when your mommy and daddy pay for your fan apartment and your vw and you don't have a job because you don't need one so therefore you stay at home all day and write supreme badness involving a cello and daniel ash guitar...if daniel ash had kielbasa for fingers.

i hate them.

i've gotten in the habit of blasting '1.2.3.4.' and 'exquisite corpse' when they're practicing. radiohead is no good. they try to play along. but they cannot comprehend the bauhaus. i make the speakers face the ground. the apartment shakes and they stop. hi, i'm raymond carver.

my eyes were still closed. i was in my house. i knew that. but i didn't feel like i was inside anything.

'it's really something,' i said.




fucking eno helped coldplay.

last night, dustin and i took a walk around the fan, like the way we used to in the days of yore, when kayce fucked random men on dee's couch and shada invited guys over who asked if they could check ther blackplanet accounts on my computer, thereby tainting my settings. only this walk was much earlier. and there was no mention of colin ferrell's cock.

but there was greek salad, and coffee, and pseudo-tiramisu at joe's inn, followed by an hour smoking cigarettes on the lee monument whilst discussing deviant sex. like how there's no such thing as making love in the ass, and how pam didn't know what reverse cowgirl was, and how celebrity crushes just come back to fucking.

and for a bit, dustin and i had what we had 3 years ago, before the sex and drama and my father.

david called me out of the blue today. he was passing through richmond on the way back from c-ville, and wanted to hang. i haven't seen david in a year and a half, during that dubious period between when he got back from spain and before i went to scotland.

david used to be really cool when we were in high school. we used to talk kubrick and spent our weekends at the naro. we went to the weegee exhibit at the chrysler.

david and i really don't have that much in common any more, at least, not since we went to college. at least, not since he didn't want to fuck me because it would ruin our friendship, even though time has done a good enough job of that.

so he swang by, and we went to lunch, and i showed him my 'new' bass and scotland photos, and we acted like we still knew each other. i can't understand him anymore. he went to uva, majored in spanish and psychology with a minor in english, promptly moved back home with his parents, doesn't have a job, doesn't have a clue what he wants to do, is thinking about getting a desk job because he should. now he's thinking about moving to dc 'or someplace' because i'm sure, in his mind, it would be cool, and his parents would help him out until he got on his feet.

he's a compulsive wanderer, full of doubt and noncommitment.

dropped off stuff at the dry cleaners. it's comforting to drop off dry cleaning. 'i can pay someone else to clean up the messes that i make and can't fix.'

then i went to meet dustin for coffee, which is always a pleasure. world cup makes awesome mochas.

the fan isn't the gawdy neo-classical double-wides of monument avenue, it's not the children's toys strewn about the sidewalk, the chalk drawings...it's the sand of the coliseum! actually, it's the back alleys. dustin and i used to walk down the back alleys during some of our late night walks. there's a whole world back there, and i mean that in a very 'not-allen-ball-there's-life-in-a-grocery-bag-sort-of-way.' i'd forgotten how much fun the back alleys are. in the front, fan houses look like they're crowded right on top of each other. behind it all, there are elaborate backyard gardens and ivy that's probably been there for a century. there are parks for people to walk their dogs. and there's this one garden in the alley in between floyd and grove, planted right in the alley, where the scent of honeysuckle still manages to find you in november.

i could stay in richmond for a few more years. as dustin said, 'it's a good place to get places.'

plus, richmond could use a good trip-hop band. i posted an ad on craiglist for musicians a few hours ago. i've already gotten three responses. from jazz drummers. i didn't even need to write that i'm a chic or my measurements or anything!

aaarrrggghhh!

i just found out that echo and the bunnymen are playing in dc the night that my mom's coming up to visit.

blasted irish vixen! (i love you, mom!)

i made a post on mypace stating that i would no longer make blog entries there. because, really, i feel like such a tramp (strike that...even more of a tramp) posting remarkably clever things about how much i hate gwyneth paltrow and having no one respond. at least here, if no one responds, that's not necessarily a bad thing. i'm important. to myself.

i went back to work a day early, because i could really use to money, and if i stayed at home, i'd feel obligated to, you know, clean. or paint. or do something other than watch 'master and commander.' ('this ship is our home. this ship...is england.')

rather, steve turned me away because he was expecting me back tomorrow, and he had plans to do things that i couldn't be around for. dear god, no, not like that.

if i tried to explain, it would only make it worse.

i need to start working for dustin's mom again, along with the antiques restoration. i mean, i love ruining my hands (uber-bass playing callouses of doom!) and actually working for a change, but for real, i need to pay rent.

i could start to complain about money, but really, i gave up my stable job that i hated to take a pay cut, do something that i love, and see lots of bauhaus shows.

yes, i quit my job for bauhaus.

and dropped out of my last semester of college.

and lost an earring.

i must get something to eat. then dry cleaning. it's nice that the dry cleaners is just 2 blocks away now. i remember living at gresham, and having no car, and walking into the heart of the fan with a mesh bag thrown over my shoulder, and evaluating along the way whether banana republic shirts were really worth all this (they are).

i'll have to stop by the strawberry street wine market and see if they have any mcguigan's in. 'twould be sweet.

Cb major - life is full of complecations,
commitments and organisation. You love to make
sure everything is just perfect, but sometimes
this can cause you to fall over your own feet.
A slightly unsociable key: why Cb major when
you could be the identical Bmajor? It has less
accidentals.


what key signature are you?
brought to you by Quizilla


i took this quiz more than 2 years ago, when i was an uptight bitch. i figured, since i'm starting a new journal and i'm practically a new person (i'd live to think), what better way to pop this new one's cherry?

um, well, they sure showed me.

and the bad spelling still annoys the shit out of me. gee, i guess some things don't change.