Saturday, February 24, 2007

Been Readin

one of these days i'll get original. but i'm getting a cold and it has been a weekend of nyquil and wine. but b/c of the nyquil and wine, i'm excited abt everything. i want to write i want to read i want to be done with classes and finally get to write what i want to write. except for right now i guess that means playing stenographer (amanuensis?) to other, more clever (self-actuated?) people.

anyway, i loooooove bust magazine. as long as they don't tell me to save my menstrual blood and make some diy art installation out of it (which i'm always sort of convinced they might do). but this month, thurston moore says of kim gordon:

"pretty much it was unspoken. i remember those days; we would walk all over downtown new york together. we'd get up in the morning--we didn't really have much money at all--we'd find something cheap to eat and walk all over, 'cause we just wanted to be together and there was nothing else to do except for hold hands and walk."

and there's a real valentine's day post for you.

plus this from tillie olsen's yonnondio--in a completely different vein (tho i'm sure one could do some kind of freudian thing on me):

(oh and i should say ahead of time that this syntax *totally* reminds me of my brother's writing):

"clawing dinning jutting gnashing noises, so overweening that only at scream pitch can the human voice be heard. heat of hell year round, for low on their heads from the lowering ceiling, the plants' steam machinery. incessant slobber down of its oil and scalding water onto their rubber caps, into their rubber galoshes...spurting steam geysers. slippery uncertain footing on the slimy platform. treacherous sudden torrents swirling (the strong hose trying to wash down the blood, the oil, the offal, the slime)."

yeah, when "slobber down" is your verb, you are the writer for me. and you should totally read it out loud to really get how good all her words are together.

i can't get over words. they are my first love, my passion before passion.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Till They Are Incandescent

Busy busy. I'm supposed to be grading a bunch of ethnographies and writing a paper of my own and working on a presentation about some dude's article on Zora Neale Hurston's views on national socialism. But I'd rather not. So I talked on the phone to Deanna for like and hour and half and now I want to fall asleep next to my baby. First, though, I'd like to share some Jean Toomer with the internet. I typically hate poetry, but this sort of secular urban love poem appealed to me in class today:

Her Lips Are Copper Wire

whisper of yellow globes
gleaming on lamp-posts that sway
like bootleg licker drinkers in the fog

and let your breath be moist against me
like bright beads on yellow globes

telephone the power-house
that the main wires are insulate

(her words play softly up and down
dewy corridors of billboards)

then with your tongue remove the tape
and press your lips to mine
till they are incandescent
---
a girl in my class said that the dude basically gets electrocuted from making out with a naughty city girl. but i prefer to think otherwise.

Saturday, February 17, 2007

Le Hangover

Oh those MFAs are a good time. But every time we run into them at the Knickerbocker, I wake up in tremendous pain the next day. Blech. I woke up, though, with that sense of tremendous possibility and the feeling that I just never have enough time to get to everything I want to. We did manage to get to Borders today where I picked up the new Domino mag (sucked, avoid it) and the BUST with Gwen Stefani on the cover.

Then we drove to Indy to spend some time with Trader Joe. I gotta say, I love grocery shopping--to an almost poetic level when I'm hungover. That sort of spacey, hazey feeling and the insatiable hangover hunger really create a sublime grocery experience. Plus, I let myself have whatever I want when I go there. Being in the middle of nowhere, a girl has to give herself luxuries where she can find them. So I bought papardelle and ingredients for a lemon parmesan pasta, soba noodles and mushrooms, fresh ginger and green onions for a sort of detox noodle soup. Then five bottles of cheap and fun looking wine, dolmas, and some kind of loopy frozen gnocchi situation which will probably only be disappointing but whatever (ps--I've made myself a promise that, where possible, I will completely avoid using the drooping, sagging 'whatevs,' 'totes,' and 'obvs.' I appreicate these little words when I see them elsewhere but they make me feel like a blog poser).

So now I'm going to drink a ton of Pellegrino and read some Edeet Ravel and Jean Toomer.

Then we're watching Marie Antoinette which I think calls for some kind of intricate confection.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

this one goes out to all the lovers

Happy Valentine's Day, bitches. It's another snow day here in the midwest--a big cheers to Indiana for their completely inept road management! At least cigarettes are cheap. I'm actually looking forward to celebrating the pseudo holiday this year; after getting screwed out of any sense of romance for the last couple of Feb. 14ths I actually have a boyfriend who gets romance right. So tonight we're watching porn and drinking champagne. We've got Behind the Green Door for classic 70s porn chic and Pirates for "high production value" and, I'm sure, comedic timing. Now the big question is whether Marilyn Chambers goes best with Sofia blanc de blanc or Veuve Clicquot yellow label?

It also may or may not be our anniversary. So approximately nine months ago today, a very special someone and I got drunk at the Levinas conference after party at Lafayette Brew Co and decided to go watch Alias on DVD. We didn't actually get to watching Alias for another 4 months or so, but the rest is history. One thing I've learned is that sometimes, just sometimes, the last two people at the bar really do belong together. And I've never been happier.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

here's beckett aka sloppy joe. i'm not putting any more pictures b/c it's a real struggle with this lame ass blogger thing.




Becoming Home

After just about a month here, I'm finally starting to feel like this apartment is mine. I have the internet with me again (let's go rock n' roll internet party alright!) and my things about me. So here is downstairs. Note: fluffy pink heart pillow from David. It would be even awesomer if Beckett didn't flop and slobber all over it. See example below.

I guess this post is going to be mostly pictures since I'm tired and I'm getting ready to play some serious Scrabble before bedtime. I've gotta get my title back--last time I was winedrunk and I got bad letters. Man, I wish tomorrow could be another snow day. Could it?