tiny bone hands

Unlike Mallory, I am fairly unorganized, quite passive about my music, and make mediocre mix CD's. This month was cold, rainy, and full of train rides. Here's the result:

Train Songs

1. Igloo by Karen O & The Kids
2. Talking Bird (demo) by Death Cab
3. When The Road Runs Out by Blonde Redhead and Devastation's*
4. Whatever (Some Folk Song in C) by Elliott Smith
5. Little Fury Bugs by Death Cab
6. Another Saturday by Stuart Murdoch*
7. Train Song by Ben Gibbard and Feist*
8. Brackett, W9 by Bon Iver *
9. Tiger Mountain Peasant Song by Fleet Foxes
10. Light Leaves by Why?
11. You've Got The Love by Florence and The Machine
12. Service Bell by Grizzly Bear and Feist*
13. Look At Me by John Lennon
14. Igloo by Karen O & The Kids
15. Look at That Old Grizzly Bear by Mark Mothersbaugh
16. Banshee Beat by Animal Collective
17. Moon Over Goldsboro by The Mountain Goats
18. These Days by Nico
19. Raincheck by Polytechnic
20. Those To Come by The Shins
21. Deep Blue Sea by Grizzly Bear*
22. Punky's Dilemma by Simon and Garfunkel
23. Steadier Footing by Death Cab
24. To Be Alone With You by Sufjan Stevens
25. Writing To Reach You by Travis
26. Virtute the Cat Explains Her Departure by The Weakerthans

*These songs can be found on the Dark Was The Night compilation. This CD benefits the Red Hot Organization, "an international charity dedicated to raising money and awareness for HIV and AIDS through popular culture."

upgrading

Since I make a point of attempting to surround myself with "artsy" folks it's not a huge surprise that I get nicer, more creative gifts than the average "queen bee" mug (remember that mug, Mallory?), and while I wouldn't go as far as to say that that's the PRIME reason I'm friends with them, well, I do enjoy these benefits...

But sometimes these gifts are way above my level. I've been given two beautifully crafted leather journals (by different people). Both journals are sitting on my bookshelf, too pretty to write in but too pretty to just leave be. Leather is quite fancy and I must admit, I'm unsure of myself. I'm used to my trusty, marble cover Mead 25 cent notebooks from CVS.






















I feel like nothing I could possibly write would be nice enough to belong in those journals.

Maybe if my quality of writing materials increases the quality of my writing will increase as well?



...probably not.

(Yes, those are my stupid little fingers)

posing

Flava Flav is apparently stopping traffic downtown, and I'm on my bed spooning up applesauce like it's *Ben and Jerry's. I obviously win.

My weekend home was fantastic; I forgot how well I fit in with my family and my home. I bought two hats for winter and I few other articles of clothing, but I'm mostly excited about the hats. I walked on the canal path and found a little pathway through the leaves that led to some surprised geese. I wish I had had my camera but I made do with my mind...Cam Jansen got nothing on me.

Now I'm back at my other home with a freezer full of tamales and a desk full of papers and flowers. It feels good to be back but I miss New Jersey.

Oh yeah, and I'm finally 18, but still indifferent. Gotta keep up my cool facade.




*thanks chupacabra...always knew you had to serve some weird purpose besides frightening a small population of Mexicans.

the annual homoerotic love letter

I was reading the plug today. It's silly and amusing and I never expect to find anything more than playfulness but I picked up this quotation and I thought it was worth sharing:

"You know how there are some people that you're really close to. And then you get to a certain point in your life, and you don't really think about that person anymore? And there's some people you were never really close to, but you always really enjoyed?"

Anyways I know it's probably not relevant and I wonder if I've run out of charming things to say about my friendship with Danielle but she turned 18 today which means It's that time of the year to confess my love.

So Danielle, darling, I may be states away but I'm about as close to you as I can possibly be to anyone. I think that counts for something. Thanks for sharing years of awkward teenage development with me. Thanks for making me laugh. Thanks for reading my mind about 90% of the time. Remember the first time we hung out? I must have felt terribly relieved that day thinking for the first time in my life: thank god, she's just like me.

You're the one I'm really close to and always really enjoyed. Have a happy birthday, legal adult.

updates overdue

updates:

It feels weird coming back here to write. I'm probably going to feel the same way when I go back home for the first time in three months. It feels familiar but It's like I just stepped into the doorway of my bedroom and realized I didn't make the bed before I left. Nomsayin? Me neither.

Anyways Danielle seems to have started this up again and I find no reason not to follow suit. That's not true. There are always reasons not to do something-time being one of them. Anyways if we're always connected by underground wires then why not reciprocate from both ends?

So far what I'm getting from college is a truckload of new information being shot out by a series of facial haired men who stand at the front of a large classroom. On occasion we regurgitate our new knowledge on papers or tests and sometimes that information nestles itself into my head and I let it get comfortable. Am I getting my money's worth? I can't say. Am I really learning anything? I can say.

I'll return, Beluga

homeward bound

When I find out I'll be going someplace, I'm anxious to pack immediately, but as my departure approaches the most packing I can muster is to drag my suitcase out and leave it in the middle of the floor. Sometimes I shoot it an angry glare or two.

Itinerary: crepes tonight, Yinka Shonibare afterwards, maybe throwing a shirt or something in the trunk, tea, sleeping, class, foods, HOME.

Oh but YINKA! COOLEST MOTHERFUCKER EVER:

I'd like to be packing those ridonkulous clothes away...

so0oo00o angsty

I have to stop writing past my bedtime; when I get under five hours of sleep I start to think of myself as very melancholy and pensive when really all I am is sleepy.

"Hi Sleepy, nice to meet you, I'm ----(cuddly woodland creature, usually)-----"

Refusing to post again until I snap out of this nonsense. Then again, when has resolving to do anything ever worked for me? This is why I don't bother with new years resolutions.

Yawning. Pensively, of course.

probably nothing will change

I'm finally learning that simplicity really is everything. Mallory, sorry it took me forever, and sorry you had to sit through my shitty dramatic writing. Adjectives and I have this tough little romance going on.

too fucking pensive, sorry

College is just fine. I've found some friends, a few tasty places to eat, and some spots to wander around when I want to look at something beautiful and quiet. I can see a pretty sunset through my window and sometimes there's a cuddly woodland creature in my room and a friendly ear in Boston. If I'm feeling embarrassingly melodramatic, there's my typewriter clack clack clack ping. I have scarves, sweaters, and a good supply of tea and honey. When I walk to my building, I usually can find a decent pile of leaves to walk though crisp crisp crisp crunch. This is all I need right now.

nostalgia

I suppose now that the "belugas" are off in college this is over (hi, Mallory!), but I don't think either of us can bring ourselves to officially end it. A good clean break isn't necessary; maybe I'll just come back to it when I'm feeling nostalgic and just want to cuddle.