(no subject)

si fácil de escribir, temo, difícil de leer. o sea, demasiado fácil de entender...

tried to write in bed. failed. have, perhaps, just under half an essay? made ramen to wake myself up. slurped half a mug hot. am now feeling feverish. will get worse if i open window and strip down, so i've merely pinned my hair up. it's like i'm a lizard or something. like my beloved betamander living under her slimy little rock.

now, that would be an interesting quiz, cause no one knows the bnfs of star trek who isn't IN it. star trek is so disconnected they don't even call them bnfs. and that, btw, anyone with interest (spark of memory) is why i call them fandom queens, because the inestimable sunbeam (one of said bnfs) dubbed me one once on a whim (which is how she does everything). 's a nice cosy fandom which i miss a bit. too bad all the stories started sucking. okay, and some other things got annoying too.

like this music, which was still my favorite of theirs a few hours ago.

(no subject)

used to have a weird remix of this, but this one is MUCH cooler.

::hums happily::

Nacido en Nicaragua y criado allá, rehusado la oportunidad de estudiar en Europa de niño, Rubén Darío fue ciertamente latinoamericano, y su poesía mucho más producto del ambiente político del America del Sur que de la comunidad intelectual europea. Sin embargo, la educación de un europeo fuera mejor para los que querían leer sus poemas.

guess how long THAT took to write.

(no subject)

if princess leia (... ... ... carrie fisher) doesn't have a daughter, she won't be able to make a movie when she's nineteen.*

and that's always a damn shame.

if you don't make a movie, it CERTAINLY won't become famous, which come to think of it is also not a bad reason (adapt it yourselves) to finish a novel.

*which is how old debbie reynolds** was in singin in the rain and how old fisher was in whatever the first star wars movie was.

**carrie fisher's mother. see, the apple cheeks. and stuff.

there's a senator named paul simon from somewhere, but he's not the same paul simon who was married to carrie fisher. and, you know, made music.

oh dear. textual examples! textual examples! ::frown:: the passion of the Latin American for his country. dammit. i was about to talk about blood. bullshit. oops.

(no subject)

this is why i don't write the title before the story.

::buries head in hands::

why is the essay NEVER about what i thought it was going to be about?

(no subject)

maybe now that i've successfully broken the orange stick and wedged the tiny little wooden point of it in the speaker-perforations of my laptop inextricably i can go back to searching for examples of modernism in the text*?

it was just a thought.

am starting to find modernism distinctly annoying, though. shut UP about love and seasons already.

*otherwise known as 'staring blankly at the textbook and thinking desperately that none of it matters anyway.' i pick the best times for crippling existential quandaries. just TRY to beat me.**

**sample train of thought:

1. dude, like he could expect ANYONE to get ALL the references.
2. he obviously didn't care, though. he's just oozing the not-care.
3. writing poetry is just basically mental masturbation. no one else matters.
4. but then again, what ISN'T just mental masturbation? does anyone else ever matter?
5. or maybe they do, but if they do we'll never know so they might as well not.
6. there's something wrong with devoting a lot of attention to thinking about this.
7. aiiiiiiieeeeeee what could i possibly write?

(no subject)

am supposed to wake up four hours from now. do you think i can write another page by then? bear in mind that i've done 1.5 out of 2.5 pages since 9:00 pm, but the last third of that entirely within the last hour.

::contemplates line breaks and margins::

relieve me for a while, cast me from your spell, let me go!

(no subject)

rattlings in the attic.

suspect my housemates sneak up there very early to have sex, although am not sure why they prefer it up there to in their rooms.

gay stupid obnoxious boys would be SO far preferable to the other variety.

perhaps this has to do with the coldness of the laundry room--what if all of downstairs is that way? =-O heat rises, you know. i wonder if there's a thermostat in the attic (which would be the third floor, only it's dusty and all the rooms are half-filled with junk).

(no subject)

hey, wow, this song is really cool.

i'm not even yawning anymore.

o.0

the conclusion my paper is heading for like a speeding train:

'it doesn't really matter if you can understand the point they're making anyway, because even if anything DID matter, which it doesn't or at least can't be proven to, there's no guarantee that they actually know the truth about life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness any more than their average reader who's not up on greek literature.'

...

oops?

(no subject)

have just now finished rereading entries on friends page? okay, yeah, THAT'S a bad sign. clearly i must see the shrink and eat. but also i clearly need to sleep very soon after that. so so much. for so so long. i think i'm going to throw up.

fucking fantastic.

lovely, lovely. fell asleep again. i honestly don't remember the falling part, but here it is one hour after my appointment with the shrink. uh, i feel somewhat better...? d'oh.

(no subject)

no but the good part was having this confused dream about waking up and sneaking downstairs to use a computer in the lobby (there isn't one) to email the shrink's secretary with some wild weird excuse about missing the appointment. then you wake up again and it's not 9:30, it's 9:59. well, fuck you very much too.

[edit: hahahahah. my inner spirit is apparently ( wise )

]

(no subject)

i seriously need to nap. i actually feel sick. there's a dead moth on the floor. my paper was slightly too short but screw that. mood swings ahoy. spent all day yesterday on a quiz, puttered and wasted another half hour just now.

dom has a VERY nice ass.

that is all.

(no subject)

and there was much fear, for they knew not what wax's phone bill would be.

who was just trying to call me? not ray, i hope. i think i screwed it up pressing 'flash'...

daddy's coming on friday and it's time to dress for dinner. someone give me your arm, mine are weak.

oh look, the shade is up. sun! people who could see me in my underwear! --through the dense shade of tree branches.

do i sound delirious? i suspect i do. i don't really feel that way, honest.

esthero on killing someone while high and then having existential quandaries about it.

the song is heaven sent and this bit is from the middle. it's much more interesting and depressing ( in its entirety )

.

my mouth is clean
my hands are dirty
heaven isn't on my side
if it was then she'd've hurt me
didn't think this through

i didn't have the time
to perfect my crime
i drank my wine everyday,
it's going to be just fine

heaven sent (the single version) on real audio, and i have an mp3 (not the same version) if anyone i know wants it (::waves at ninglor::).

shakira of the day, title song of the second album: where are the robbers?

you've seen them all about here
you've seen them in shacks
walking the streets of paris
condemned in the courtrooms

their noses powdered,
in suits and in blue jeans,
you've seen them right in the fronts of buildings
and never had anything more to say

where are the robbers?
where is the murderer?
maybe even over there lounging
on your neighbor's patio.
and what if they are?
and what if i am, what then?
it could be him here playing his guitar
or me, singing this song

you've seen them on their knees,
sitting or squatting,
standing stiffly giving lectures,
in any position you can imagine
preaching in the church,
even playing concerts.
everyone's seen them at parties,
handing out refreshments.

where are the robbers?
where is the murderer?
maybe even over there lounging
on your neighbor's patio.
and what if they are?
and what if i am, what then?
it could be him here playing his guitar
or me, singing this song

( dónde están los ladrónes? )

(no subject)

no, i did not take a nap.

shut up.

shutupshutupshutup. ::falls over::