if a big ol' syringe of cortisone were to assert itself into presence, i would know there was a god - and, so knowing, would really, really, impale myself on it. i have never been so itchy in my life. it is early in the morning, and what to cover myself in next as a futile attempt to rehumanize myself i know not. meanwhile i am online for a reason, i'm trying to package and ship my e-mails and other important files over to school.

whilst packing i got really just frustrated for some reason and am needing to type (nope not write). this day so far - woke up and went to school, hopefully for a last time, to drop off/choose 4-tet pics. maybe one last reunion tonight, depending on everyone's busy schedule. mr. handman talked for a long while about the prospective plans for music at spackenkill which was good and heartening to hear and so much more complex than even the credulous joanne would have imagined.

i'm waiting for someone to rescue me from this grim prospect of leaving. i got in the mail the 'facebook' for penn. and they come from greenwich and plano and l.a. and okay, poughkeepsie. looking so unfamiliar and better (than something). and of course, this is only whatever percentage that sent in their photo. you can glean any number of insights from that, which i am trying not to vocalize. but i hate sitting on the fence. i hate being in this mood right before i go away. i need a book to read as i go there...suggestions are SO more than welcome.

for now i have to go out and buy the inevitable last minuterie...sorry, minutia. drop off film from whenever. i remember all those times this school year where i'd wake up and vow not to talk. seriously! having english 1st period usually undid me but still. "when we gained the power of speech we lost the ability to eat from the earth". or not. what did that cat on pokemon lose? holy shite, i'm listening to tolkien read the mirror of galadriel in elvish.

almost done. typing is so therapeutic. if only piano...eh never mind.

bash bish bash bish whoosh!
uphill, uphill, uphill, (whoo straightaway)
long boy legs longness ugh!
stupid camera and backpack heavitude ugh!
taking a hit for the team, via waterbottle and sharp eyes yeah!
(wow, wow, okay - a hotel new hampshire movie! nutrageous! fantasgreat! whoa. what's up with these indestructible cars, driving through wuthering heights, and their owners rescuing turtles and dogs. coo. and suddenly all french-canadien names in credits, i guess i missed seth green playing egg.)
waahh, downhills; jamming toes into royal elastics (which are treadless, ankleless, laceless, making my ankles superpronationary and now - this toe-jamming?!)
waterfall. ahh. waterfall again. eee. enough about the waterfalls.
(watching manipulative gay men on the real world = not good for joanne)

bonus picture!

(having these big bad days, everything just happens to come back all linear and chronological. memory bursts. don't worry.)

okay, so for whatever reason, nan is the leitmotif of the week.
nothing else really counts.
not matchmaking but mentormaking.
my yellow thumbnail polish looks like corn kernels.
risotto and gelato
taste test the words
school supply shopping = so depressing
nothing like the commercials
posh - in newburgh?! get outta town
urban renewal through magnetic fields

a night. nep, just having one's not good enough! like, having a non-fat carrot muffin at 1 means that the rest of the night's been good enough that you don't have to eat tapioca pudding, kind of thing. synchronicity vs. congruity. actually broaching the questions which matter. "great" corporate and weekly rates. being the urbane/hooked up po-townies at vassar, woo. but seriously, guys. new forms. of communication. second-guessing people like you were scholastic matchup's head-bobbing star. which i was. now watching the stepford wives from my perch in the comp-room. oh yeah, i love jesus. not smirking, smiling. what i want them to say of me: "she was just a good girl. well okay, she was kinda smart...dressed okay...smile wasn't quite up to par. good synaptic work. korean drinker. slightly psychic." i'm just babbling brooking now.

just did what? cached alcohol in tornadoed brush? walked and swung with the newly returned lawrence? clumsily knocked the doorharp from its doorperch, probably going to catch me some trouble in the morning. having done these things makes me feel as if i feel overzealous.

question - when does the style stop and the substance begin?

oh - my - god. got my archives to work. all it took was some overridin'. i feel like a genius. next comes javascripts, no joke. ahh! i posted way too much, and too recklessly today, this is just a fraiche start. calm enough to draw upon my medium-term memory, even.

but yeah. compulsive consumerism today: 3(!) "boyfriend tanks" - as opposed to wifebeaters. a brush because my hair is finally that length again. graphic print skirt. linen lace camisole concoction. yesterday, with benjamin the great: arab strap and the jayhawks, word! and a blue bear yonpil-tong (or, pencil case - boy do i love my anglicisms)...and falsies. violet eyelashes that is - ho ho ho... also courtesy of the galynkers, night views and yummy indian eats. oof, the city. much residual recoil...

but okay. tonight we MISSED not only girl on the bridge but the something something (discreet charms, fine) of the bourgeosie. eating chocolate cake won precedence. then syed in hyde park. so anand's last night consisted of driving and music, which is not really 'fitting' or 'appropriate' but just 'ugh'. okay anand, even if you never see this i still want to remember...the potting soil. so just keep it in mind.

time for an actual set of statements i think. the train down to the weezer show last night, over craisins, choco-pie, and james' heavy-lidded bitch seat, anand and i bunged around for a bit the concept of the new renaissance in terms of community of intellects, (plus the hangers-on and name-dropped) you know, all in one place. silicon valley and wall street having come and gone. which led to the question, where next? or who next, actually. i thought college prof types, all those associates and adjuncts bustin' moves; anand thought political extremists. the political spectrum not being one at all, but a loop. (hearty nod). also - crappy topic of how we're both re-reading old favorites. i really should've enjoyed a heartbreaking work... but it was as if everything was already known to me. funny how at this point, complete congruity is something i expect in life. in my friends and in what i read and see. terrible!

which brings me to chris. eek! today he got bona-fide azn pride glasses, he likes indie music. putting him "18 months behind" anand and james. who will he become? will he ever enunciate well? i won't be there to see it. i hope people won't hassle him about the yearbook lawsuit. i really really hope...

and now for some reason i'm going to call rob. congruity eh?

weezer show, that's all for tonight. oh YEAH!

back here again. let's try not to make any sort of lists or landmarks. memorable quotes how about. but with e-mail ids. and annotated comments.

"this [summer] has just been one unending night" -lfriedma
too true. the prime ingredients for our nights out are frisbee, ice cream, stop and shop, schizophrenic radio changing. more and less. terrible really.


"if we don't make these pants, we're incompetent" -astrozine
and you know what? we're incompetent. although we tried. the dennys denizens having chased us away from their sidewalk at 11:30, we relocated to toys r us. and it didn't even bloody work! some epochal project THAT was. grr.


oh ma got

okay, here we go as promised about rampant consumerism. today i bought one of those wooden artists model pinocchios, requisite corkboard and easel from michael's. mmm...and cedar sachets and an unwieldy curling iron and lots of other ssaguri stuff from linens and things. ugh, the things. you know what, i wasn't tired last night, my brain is just totally seedy and not functional. this is just typing practice. target practice. but in case i forget let me landmark a bit: entire places tainted by experience, smart boys and sweet girls, books less enjoyable, silkscreening. harry potter actors have been cast!

a day of taking inventory, no doubt dawg. what did i see today that seemed vital for school? at the mall. ah, abercrombie and fitch. boy do i remember THOSE reverential a&f days. the so-called and so-seeming homoerotic black and white shots. flushed and freckled faces. blue and green striped ties used as the universal accessory (well, only like belt a la a separate peace, maybe). the only problem is they've only regressed to that. without moving on to, say...well. uh. i'm not quite sure how far mssrs. abercrombie or fitch would approve straying from the path. was going to say, you know, merino arm warmers, or something. psh! "probably you're safe as long as what you're buying doesn't have the logo on it." you gotta see the look on my face as i'm typing this, if you don't want to shoot me or laugh or something...teehee. but okay. er...yesterday. fireworks ice cream from stewarts plus whatever. hooch is what they wanted. fill in the blanks.

rampant consumerism! matching dooney and bourke everything. e-mail addresses as status symbols. people are leaving. gonna finish thinking later, it's actually way past my bedtime.

spent what left of this saturday night looking up alternative photo-printmaking techniques, most of which sound very complicated. not for kids. involving metallic oxides and waiting 48 hours and dark/light rooms. in other words we still haven't made the pants. but we will (?) meanwhile, i'm finishing off the night by uploading the memory-files. in other news...i'm so easy. argh! i love crying happily. i love people crying happily too! there's really not much more i can say about sr banquet. except that i'm easy easier easiest. i beamed my info to angel today, she has the original and it's so much prettier than mine. like ew! when people are inclined to kindness what else can you do but follow?! oh so easy. okay and the peace festival this afternoon, which had no real effect other than to smother my growing consumerism-style and remind me that printmaking is really really something i should get into. peace? okay. bag balm lamps? much much better!

only wanted to link to this before i went to sleep all chocked of rice pudding and orange juice, glacially happy over how my pictures came out and mother earth's and you know, just feeling slippy...


because i find everything sexy -but this-

this is way past sexy!

so tonight. not sure whether i'm documenting it for my sake or for the sake of posterity but here goes. my sense of multitasking my friends, as i saw nearly everyone i know. mikey, even, whom i didn't recognize the other night but totally did, given our new cubbyhole cues. saw the redoubtable steve at beech tree, went to everready, then some 1 o' clock stop and shopping. goya and styrofoam planes. i hope the pictures come out. in the car, betsy with the perfection. also in the car, cigarette butt boys. lisa and i commenting about the whole impending frustrating cuteness of everybody thing. and wanting to be boys. but that's like, all the time, so whateva. in conclusion a night where i did what i wanted to do. and one which promises better or at least improvable-on ones to come. in vittadini. leitmotifs d'ete: sizzler, model airplanes, the chosen one, narnia, miffy.

busy days hampered by mum's sudden overarching nest syndrome. or not. she really would like to see me studying for finance economics in my last days in poughkeepsie. poring over the textbooks, chewing a korean mechanical pencil pensively. oh yes and how about some ankle socks. whatever. meanwhile the busyness is because i'm trying my darnedest to regress to a better time, 5th grade or sophomore year. not actually better in any way. when i used to read books (the former) or make clothes (the latter). hmm. when i used to do things! with all the resources i had at my disposal. so like yesterday, andrew and i zoomed around grabbing things (sheet music of schelomo, the mrs. dalloway i had in my bag, his houndstooth umbrella, cassette tapes, the new vittadini dress, business cards from moroccan restaurants) and xeroxed them at office depot. with the brimming purpose of turpentining them onto white jeans. we may or may not finish later this afternoon. 'though in doing this i missed another big group evening. the ways and means of summer. sigh! tonight steve is playing at the beechtree which will be awesome if we go. and then sensual MASS-age at cubbyhole? or maybe just 'hardcore frisbee'. but i have a dentist's appointment this afternoon. i have not seen my retainer for 6 months and for this i am heartily repenting. may the ortho-purgatorio release my soul soon. oohh...i'm feeling very anxious. it sucks. in the meantime, however, lisa and i can still get excited about physics...
and i can still get excited (by my very very lonesome self it seems) over um...other stuff! a link happy day it seems. i'm trying to feel connected.

i'm so just not sure about this page anymore. in a cranky mood as it is. cranky doesn't even begin to describe! like self-expression is SOO not what i'm about right now. (teeheehee) but okay, yuck. the pretention! the glibly gliding glissandos of...something. the exposure! the raucous sentimentality. the temptation of post-experiential editing. the color scheme. although i am tempted to wade into 80s deck-a-dance for fall 2000, it doesn't matter b/c this is all so primitive...let me know will you?

i've got a lot to say and not a lot of clarity to say it with! every day, i see/hear/smell/touch/taste (the inevitable refrain...senses working overrrrtime) so much and all it does is remind me of myself. or other people. okay, in other words nothing impresses me anymore but people. especially children.

children - with their infinite potential and clear skin - and even if they don't come through with it, you know they want to smile back at you when you smile at them. it hurts. i never understood this...phoebe caulfield beauty...before just recently. because i never really respected kids. because (i love you mrs. habib) i didn't respect myself. this may even be a kramer vs kramer moment. but idiotic allusions cast aside...i only wanted to be a kid so that i could be a kiddlydivy girl (props to rhinebeck, ho!) but working with candy girod, with her perfect smile and self-packed lunches and the honey colored double bass. i felt so unworthy. and don't get me started on seth. that backflipping monster.

and to connect that with something else completely relevant, possibly something which doesn't even need a transition. i saw and spoke to mrs. wilson today. and i almost started crying again. and she could tell. i was so happy to listen to her, without the screens and funnels and rube goldstein devices which hamper me from understanding the rest of the world. so few adults are mature enough to understand that you want to hear their life philosophy, writ small, just by seeing that you've put your hair up and you've got bags under your eyes. and will give it to you, cupped in their hands with a smile. (me and smiles these days) and it will make sense. i would show you verbatim what she said to me if i could. it was almost cinematic except that it was just two people talking. (don't argue, please!) and when i walked out into the sun outside skinner hall i felt like the chosen one all over again.

i had so much to say, or to write, or to scream out before i spoke to her. and now i don't feel it's necessary! but let me, before i feel as if this were too much of a glancing blow. i know now that style isn't an issue. the segment of society which can converse freely these days about the noozles, the hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy, enculturation in american schools in the 90s, nan, and ulysses, and whatEVER, let's throw in bjork and AOL, just to be a doof, because i can't express myself anymore but through shabby and already fading cultural subicons, because i've settled for the easy path to zen. this segment of society will always...whatever. i'll let you fill in the blank. i feel invincible with the strength of these numbers. when i write this shite it's just to assuage my failing memory, to assure myself that i feel different at different times. it's not all mind over matter! and now...

how do you know when something good is going to happen?

yes, listening to archival pizzicato 5 can help you get to it.
yes, wearing a pistachio colored lacoste polo can help you get to it.

but watching as something good happens to you- is something good really happening?
but when something good happens which is also something bad- can we talk about the superposition of waves?

my brain is bloody and bruised from exertion- all i can think of, when i try to focus on the deep emotional issues that rock my world, is the word "omelette". and a mental image of an omelette, obviously. perhaps that's an exaggeration. but the -mindcollapse- which has plagued these last summer months has settled into a synapse and stuck. clogging of the arteries, my eye! take this fricking hippocampus out out out. then maybe i can rest. then maybe i will become less of a verbal fucking dilettante and when i have something to say it's not about "lifestyles". maybe i will become someone who doesn't have to apologize for her natural rest state of unexcitement. as well as the superexcited photon state.

we were speaking of immaturity, i believe. and how i feel like an artesian well of it. i don't really know what an artesian well is, but whateva. i imagine they're not chlorinated. oh, now i'm faciliating the mindcollapse via the usual routes. dilettantism, i said.

what would it be like if all the words which fell with great assurance from my mouth (hmm an allusion fault line) were true and relevant. a truthspeaker vs a loudspeaker shall we say again.

just to roadblock this current issue let me annotate a bit.

deneuver: the current state of apathy/wellwishing is just outward bound defense mechanism
deneuver: ?
nikivilla: hm
nikivilla: that sounds way too logical
nikivilla: i like it
deneuver: yeah i agree
deneuver: shush
deneuver: noo
deneuver: and yet

Purplecloud: i can understand that i guess...
Purplecloud: so it's not moral qualms, just the rejection deal
deneuver: both, definitely
Purplecloud: i empathize
Purplecloud: i'm thinking he was def. puttin up the front and jealous as hell
deneuver: a distinct possibility
Purplecloud: if you'd known ***** was genuinely upset at you for it, would it have changed what you did at all?

thanks for eavesdropping.