I woke up in a closet.

We’re all gonna die.
April 24, 2008, 3:12 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

I can’t stop thinking about the end of the world.


For twenty days

I’ve watched two consecutive television programs that discussed the end of the world.  The first was on the History channel.  It said that the end of the world would most likely come from Global Warming.  The other show I don’t remember so much, but it was a British guy and his last name was Oliver.  Now Talk Soup is on, the host is abrasive.

I finished writing two stories for studio today.  I only like one of them.  When I’m in a fiction studio I start to get used to writing stories, and I become self-aware that I really suck at writing stories, and I start to doubt myself and I want to leave school.  The same thing happens in a poetry studio, but it’s not as bad when I start to doubt myself.

I’m thinking about starting a campaign to give the writing majors an actual office area with desks, couches, a fireplace, and lots of silence.  I realized this was a really selfish thought on my part, but I decided that it was unfair that the ESL students get to have an entire floor in a building with a library and rows of computers.  And Architecture majors get to have their own building with their own studios.  I don’t think that anyone really cares about what the writing majors get to have because we’re a lot more flexible and versatile.  We don’t really have supply needs other than paper and laptops.  Or Pens and papers.  whatever.  We don’t have to carry around huge pieces of foam-board or sketch pads or models.  So we don’t need as much space.

Oh yeah, I want to go to the Andes mountains for the end of the world.  I’ll do a lot of illicit drugs that will probably lead me to die of an overdose, but in the meantime I’ll be living in old Incan ruins.

Today is my half-birthday.

I’m moving to Gowanus.  I’m going to put a baby in a reed basket, then I’m going to release the basket into the Gowanus Canal.

Monday, April 7th,  I worked at the library, went to class, did nothing.

Tuesday, April 8th, I saw a girl on a bike get hit by a car on Willoughby.  She flew approximately fifteen feet in the air, the bounced on the pavement.  She wasn’t wearing a helmet.  She got up off the ground a couple seconds after she hit it, then stood at the side of the road.  The man who hit her smashed the front of his car into a tree.  The glass is still on the street.

I went to a reading at the library and the first “avant garde” reader sucked.  She laughed at her own jokes.  Dodie Bellamy is good.

Wednesday, April 9th, I did Midweek Madness and ate vegan carrot pecan cake.  I got a B on my last photo project, and I took an hour to make the perfect print.

Thursday, April 10th, I went to the New York Public library then I went to Fort Greene park with Scott.  We walked Bonnie.  I bought coffee and ice cream because it was warm.  At work, Christopher told me he wanted to give me a rise.

Friday, April 11th, I went to Friday Forum, then I saw Paul Simon with Scott.  We are white.  After Paul Simon we ate Red Bamboo.  Then we bought special beer.  We have bier in the refrigerator.

Saturday, April 12th, Scott’s parents came to Brooklyn.  We all had crepes together.  We walked to the Promenade, then back at Taaffe, we ate carrot cake.  Scott and I went to a party in Gowanus.  I felt inferior and too cool at the same time.  I wasn’t able to talk about getting an M.A. to supplement my M.F.A. because learning history will help define creative work.  We got drunk then rode the G train back home.  I bought cigarettes for the first time in approximately a month.  I got drunk for the first time in approximately a month.  Scott and I ate an entire large pizza, then I fell asleep in my jeans.  Before I fell asleep I told Scott that I wanted to take a semester off because I feel like I’m not a good writer.  I feel bad that I am using what would be my mom’s retirement money in order to go to school.

This morning I ate a grilled cheese sandwich, a popsicle, and a bag of chips.  I watched the Aqua Teen Hunger Force Movie, and I tended to my facebook garden.  I smell bacon right now.  Scott’s roommates are making bacon.

Today I think Scott and I are walking to Prospect Park.  Tomorrow is his birthday.  Today is my half-birthday.  I’m 19 and one half.

April 5, 2008, 7:47 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags:

Gentleman, BEHOLD!

congratulations to whoever made the six hundred sixty-sixth page view.

This is my Letter Head
Dear Britney Spears,

I’m in a Media Theory class right now and I’m sick of it.  I wrote a paper for the class for four hours last night and I don’t think I learned anything.  I think I made myself angry.  While I was writing the paper, I watched America’s Next Top Model and played with the kittens that live in the apartment I am house sitting in.

The apartment is in Park Slope.  This is a neighborhood I used to want to live in until I did live there for three weeks while watching the kittens.  Every morning around nine o’clock, doormen lead people out of their apartment buildings, and, all dressed in North Face jackets and pinstripe, people walk to the subway.  An hour later, a brigade of nannies walk on the same sidewalk with strollers.  Even worse: on the weekends, everyone goes running on that sidewalk on their way to the park.  What’s so wrong with running you might ask?  I think constant exercise, aside from wanting to be healthy, shows that people are not happy with themselves.  I know there must be people in Park Slope that aren’t entirely unhappy with themselves, but maybe I just feel bad about myself when I’m not out there in Under Armor running too. 

If there’s a good thing about Park Slope, I guess it’s that there aren’t many overtly depressing people.  Sure, a lot of those people running must be on Lexapro, but I mean – when you go to a bodega you don’t have to pretend to be really concerned about a crackhead’s story about his wife trying to kill him for life insurance.  Wow, I guess that is pretty sad and I do care and I do wish he would change, but for my sake, I like to avoid hearing about the turmoil of the crack spent in Brooklyn.

Yesterday I had a conversation with someone about song writing.  I have a friend who tells me, “Sharon, I just wrote a song, come check it out,” and I expect to be played a song on the guitar.  Instead, he shows me a pad of paper with words on it.  One of us is mistaken.  He wrote lyrics, a component to a song, and I believed that he had written the entirety of something he could serenade me with. 

Here is a little-known secret: I had a band when I was in the seventh grade.  It was called Gas Like Mixtures and we abbreviated it as GLM.  My band name was Ciggie and my band mate’s was Kerosene.  We only wrote lyrics.  We made a website for ourselves and posted the lyrics – just like many bands at the time did – but we didn’t play instruments.  I’m so embarrassed that I didn’t know the difference between songwriting and lyric writing.  Maybe I’m still wrong.  I can’t be sure of anything when ambiguity and misunderstanding is involved.  I also tried to play the violin in the sixth grade because I thought it would make me smarter.  If anything, I believe giving up made me smarter.  I had more time to watch the Simpson’s after dinner.

I hope L.A. is treating you nicely, but I think you should return to the other LA.  Louisiana!  I read in a magazine that your mom wants you to come home so she can make you jambalaya.  That’s a musical word if I ever heard one.  Hey!  Internal rhyme!  Keep safe and stay out of public restrooms. 
Your friend,