when i loved july, july, and it never seemed so strange!

there are flowers growing in the sky.

--

this is what the rest of my life in california looks like:

april: oh wait. it's may in 35 minutes.
may:
1) hang out with michelle and the 3, respectively, until time turns over on itself (and whoever else slips into my routine).
2) AP Test. oh wait. screw those.
3) have the house to myself for a few days (everyone but me is going out of town: sister/dad to israel for two weeks, mom/brother to maryland for a week)
4) graduate!
5) pretend like it is not the end. because in one way it is not.
june:
1) wile away the first few days of june doing #1 from may and packing and preparing for europe
2) 4th-28th (or so): europe. all over. i'm excited. and not, i'll be honest. but it will be amazing.
3) 12th: i turn 18 in italy! huzzah.
4) 19th: the new white stripes album comes out! hoorah. i'll buy it in europe, perhaps.
5) probably, i will return and sleep for a few days straight.
JULY:
1) refer to #1 from may and june
2) 7th: OH WAIT CAN IT BE? THE DECEMBERISTS CONCERT! WITH MICHELLE/ANNA/ANNA/JAMES! (hopefully harley, anyway)
3) 13th: ORDER OF THE PHOENIX! the harry potter july madness begins.
4) 21st: the beginning of the end of a huge part of my life. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. oh man. i dread the last page. i may actually cry (something i rarely do).
5) stop sounding so trite already.
august:
1) the usual 1
2) pack for reed
3) --------- i will not say it.



if i kiss you where it's sore, will you feel better?

--

suddenly the sky is dark and clocks all around my head are melting like love in the summer sun.

lord. here it goes.

when i woke up my love

katie b. came over today.

and we recorded two songs.

we did redid "in and out of everything" and we worked on/recorded "brick walls" (aka "wake up my love"). they sound really good!

yeah.

just remember your mother's words: we're all falling in and out of everything.
--

i had extensive fun yesterday at the orchestra festival and afterwards. i do love those children, i do.

when i addressed james and quoted extensively from the Good Book (not the bible)

james, you are a part of the intellegencia in plenty more ways than one. and you play a damn beautiful cello (i don't mean aesthetically, i mean musically). and from what i've read, your poetry, however often you produce it, is far from mediocre. in case you truly don't know that, it's really really really really really really really really really really really really really good. and it says some important things, which makes it even more really really really really really really good.

but, in case you're not convinced...
[james: mikey, i'm not convinced.
mikey: meh, eh...*demonstrates empty care cup*. aw just kidding, i care.]

...i have pulled up some valuable passages from the good Book of Intelligencia, written far before our time, but in English, thank the lord.


and i quote from the Book of Intelligencia:

page 823, section XXI, paragraph 2a:
"you question yourself and insecurities about your value to this world arise in the form of a poetic-prosaic whirlwind of self-doubt, comparing yourself to others around you in a self-deprecating manner. and the irony is that you dismiss your poetic/artistic/creative/[insert talent] value in a manner that merely reinforces your poetic/artistic/creative/[insert talent]. you say you are not poetic/artistic/creative/[insert talent] in a manner which IS poetic/artistic/creative/[insert talent]. oh, the irony."

paragraph 4c:
"you dismiss your talents as irrelevant (though they clearly are not) and claim you have lost the ability to perform them."

page 845, section II, paragraph 5d:
"you apologize to those you see you as equals, though your equality is a fact, not a disputable opion."

page 1003, section IV, paragraph 3e:
"in the occasional case of the true intelligencia, you state, boldly and completely, that you are at a total lack of passion, opinion, strength, and talent, when a mere glance into everything you create and pour your heart into would easily convince you otherwise."

page 2375, section VIII, paragraph 6j, on foolery:
"the only way you are a fool is by thinking you are a fool...in no other way are you a fool and not a member of the intelligencia but for thinking that the exact opposite is true."

page 4983, the epilogue:
"your care cup is full for all of those around you that you love and that love you."

and, of course, you can't forget the inscription on the cover of the book:
"we are who we are without realizing who we are:
we think, therefore we are:
we are nothing without anything:
we are art, beauty, life, and death."

c'est tout.

swarthmore is lucky to have you, jamesy. very, very lucky. it's not just some slight of chance that you got in and that you felt at home there. you're going there because you belong there, amongst a plethora of other talented people, all of them filled, like you, with the Life Poetic.

when i wasn't frustrated anymore and discovered sufjan stevens (finally!)

i found the reed thing. well. my mom had it all along. i just didn't know that.

so it is official. at last.

and i cleaned up my room real nicely. threw some things away. put all my clothes in drawers/closet. i feel fresh.

--

cds i have bought recently:

arctic monkeys - favourite worst nightmare (amazing)
muse - black holes and revelations (rocking)
sufjan stevens - illinoise (now i see what michelle's been raving about)

ok yeah that's about it.

when i ran around the house in a fiery stupor

things are not well (on a very surface level). it's making me very nervous. for one thing, nothing is in order. my room is a mess. not to the casual eye. but i have random stacks of books all over my room. i have trash scattered here and there. the only two functioning drawers of my desk are filled to bursting with shit i probably don't need.

and on top of it all, i can't find my reed acceptance packet! i need to mail in the yes i'm coming thing, and i can't fucking find it! i tore the house apart for the last 30 minutes looking for it: my room, the kitchen, mom's office. i have NO fucking clue where it could be, unelss it was thrown away. in which case. fuck.

fjdkaljfeia.

anyway, the new arctic monkeys cd is phenomenal.

when i was artistic

i'd say i did 99% of this. all my brother added was "what is...?" and the SOS. he's a cool kid, by the way, i don't know if you know that. my brother, i mean.

yeah. the line on the boat is from this picture i took last summer while on a boat:

when i wrote a(nother) poem, part II and finished the senior project!

"mind tunnels"

in this moment,
moment(ous),
so prolix we are,
simple mind tunnels,
thoughts like light
project our insides
back and forth -
as i just dare you
to agree with me that
a day is a week is a month
is a year;

without blindness we are
not
illuminated beings,
and every second of mine
dictates the first of yours,

and my next.

but with faith's little footsteps
you run parallel to me
and with my words
all connected and light
as darkness
i pull you to me.

if only for now.

--

and i announce that i have officially finished (bullshitting) the senior project. all i have to do is actually record the stuff now.

when i wrote a(nother) poem

"there are more strangers here"

sweating like chaos,
i go running over the hills
fleeing all that has
chased me,
intangibly
and changed me
retroactively
into this heathen-type;
half horse, half wolf,
whole man.

there are more strangers here
than in the
underworld -
the other side of
mossy knolls -

here, my platonic line pushing
dear -
grasses are greener
than all rosemary,
roses red like bleeding
soldiers,

and every sun
brighter than night
is black

and flammable to your soul.

when i was pregnant

with anna castro's baby.

because people like us need to reproduce.

when i was not happy but then was happy part III

not happy:
1. senior project (fuck. i bullshat the entire powerpoint but nothing else)
2. lit project (i have done 0% of it)
3. i do not feel well at all and i do think i shall attend school tomorrow.

fuck fuck fuck. allford fuck. i mean, i don't hate her like the triumvirate. but they have reasons to! but still! i mean, it's the end of senior year. who cares? and we have to do all this project shit? damnit all. i mean, even my AP Spanish class has less work. goddamnit all. and it's all pointless. i don't mind doing work if it's actually credible. but this is pointless, in all reality.

happy part III

1. "everything i try to do, nothing seems to turn out right" by the decemberists. story of my life. but the song itself makes me happy.
2. being certified as officially amazing by the 3. "that is what she said!"

c'est tout for now.

more happy:
eli the barrow boy and the heating pack on my stomach, which isn't making me feel entirely better but it is somewhat warm (it is in need of being reheated) and feels comfortable.

when i was happy part II

the past two weeks have been imbued with listening to the arcade fire and regina spektor.

i just put on "sunshine", followed by "july, july", and now "red right ankle".

i really forgot how incredibly happy and alive the decemberists make me feel.

"and so it goes that everybody wants their shoes to be sunshine"

what would make me infinitely happier is to go see them at the hollywood bowl on july 7 with the triumvirate and michelle. lord that would bring tears to my smiling face.

when i was happy

things that, despite the amount of lit homework i have to bullshit by tomorrow, are making me happy:

1. "samson" is my top played song on last.fm, with 16 play counts. 17, if you include the fact that i'm listening to it right now. that means that it beats out all my other favorites, like "engine driver", "santa maria de la feira", "stop i'm already dead", "lover you should've come over", etc. now that i think of it:

2. regina spektor makes me very very happy, for many reasons. one: she is amazing and amazing. two: she inspires me to write songs, which is really good. in the one week i've been listening to her, i've already written 2.5 songs.

3. the triumvirate and i had a sleepover on friday night and that was fun, quite fun. we all watched will and grace and fell asleep (except harley).

4. the savoy truffle cafe in santa barbara, which i found out about through harley. it makes me happy because i realize that the beatles are still alive and beautiful in all corners of the world.

5. despite the fact that he's dead, vonnegut makes me happy. i'm glad that he lived to be an old man and that we (the reader collective) have had the opportunity to read his brilliance. that makes me very happy. and, of course, so it goes.

6. i'm nearly done reading "the brief history of the dead", which is really good. not as amazing as i had expected (it's nowhere near on par with any Foers or Unbearable Lightness or History of Love or Marquez), but it is a really good book. the story is very interesting and draws me in really tight so that i just can't wait for the next chapter to see what happens.

7. i am working on two stories; both of them include my developing alter-ego, Salem Chatham/Wordsmith (he doesn't have a definite last name). in the first story, he's not so much my alter ego. but in the second one i think he is. like how vonnegut had Kilgore Trout. though i started writing the first story way before he died. but yeah.

8. i went to brents with castro and james. james had to leave, with the intention of coming back, so castro and i whiled away the time philosophizing and examining different constrasting points of view on religion, life, death, love, and all things ephemeral. that conversation made me really happy, because i know virtually no one else that i could have had a conversation that intellectually imbued with thought and power (i say virtually because there are a few others; we just haven't had it yet). it's so illuminating when you can sit and discuss with someone your points of view and have them be so well versed in intellect that you can agree 100% with them while still holding steady to your views. beauty.

9. the weather is perfect.

when i did math

to prove that sleep > senior project

sleep = 1000 (don't argue. it just does)
senior project = 0!

0! = 1 (why? no one knows)

by using simple arithemetic, we can thus conclude that:

1000 > 1
sleep > senior project.

in fact.

not doing senior project = 0! + 1001 (1000 for sleep, 1 for being a badass rebel)
senior project = 0!

1001 > 1
not doing senior project > senior project.

other conclusions that can be drawn from above proof:

anna c = 5000000000000
anna h = 5000000000001

10000000000001 > 1
anna + anna DOES NOT = senior project

mikey = 4999999999999

mikey > senior project
mikey DOES NOT = senior project.

duh.

blogger's note: the above post disproves the following:
PePPeRKiTTy29: it's a good thing you are an english major.

despite the fact that i most likely WILL be an english/creative writing, my math is not entirely without merit!

--

ps. and now for some math harley agrees with:

beatles > all.. no. the beatles are greater than anything.

thus:
beatles > ">"

that's right. the beatles are even greater than the > symbol. you cannot beat that, elvis presley!

when i had my first concious loss of an idol of sorts

long live kurt vonnegut (in the minds, hearts, hands, and eyes of many)!

wow. this is the first time that someone i love (in a creative sense, i mean. writer, musician, lo que sea) has died and i am old enough to remember/understand it. i remember when george harrison died, but i wasn't a beatles fan yet back then. but this time around, i can actually feel the loss, you know? lord. lord lord lord.

he just seemed so immortal. i mean, he is, in a sense. because i'll always have his words (which are basically just an extended limb of his own person) on my shelf and in my head.

so it goes.

--

i am in love with regina spektor.

when i figured out the meaning of life in french

here:

je suis ou je ne suis pas.

c'est tout.

(after me comes the flood)