clearly this is going to take effort: macromedia freehand 9 free trial i am just a college student who's steps ahead, steps behind...

"who among you...who among you can fix this stapler?"
and from the crowd came one voice, steady and true: "verily, i can fix it."
the masses of people parted and, lo! 'twas but a tony.
things joanne has broken/killed in the last fortnight: 9
the forces of good, righteousness, and how the stapler spring goes in the weirdest place: 1
yay tony! yay stapler! i'm just writing about it b/c i just used it and it TOTALLY is fixed. like totally.

babysitting and friendship. panic attack in the train. i'll virgin-suicide it for a dollar. if i die, just wrap up my body like they do at 1920 commons and tell my parents i wasn't even sure how to begin to try anymore. but that it was all for them. and i knew it was all for me. wait, no. anyway. :^) sad caesura once again. my favorite new method of punishment is pushing my watch progressively further ahead from the actual time. it's my faaaaaaave. my eyes are open, my trachea is chafed.

gotta perspect! gotta perspect sweaters because:
prof whitney wears them and he also makes punnett squares like this:
once (inevitably) realizing you're not that genius, where do you go? (right! right!)
why else? taking a cue from danah...

hmmm ma solituda. or, why so shy, little one?
suppressed my breath's telltale warmth
on this the coldest night
you ran ahead and down the steps
then stopped with no words on the clock
until i passed you by still smiling
was it you or-
the night i saw further through my lungs and the night
we walked with full arms and a soft glare.

guess where? that's right, it's the furness building at the university of pennsylvania. built in the...well, i studied there tonight for the first time in my life. is studying really just as irrational and overboard as it feels to me? can't we just talk this through? too much...too much!

as represented using a lagrangian multiplier:
f(jo) = 10(tendency to lose only what she loves) - 5(maturity, re: girl interrupted) - 4(impatience with that certain look in certain eyes and voices) + 2(all wintercoats in the drycleaner)(all other coats yuck) - 30(lost penncard and keys) - 10(incompetence in the face of red tape) + 6(rockin' out with unix)(not rockin' out with eunuchs) + 1(7 meals a week)(gym) + λ(happy day + loss - maturity - impatience + coats - penncard - incompetence + unix + eunuchs - physics).

how girls pack snowballs
squatting in a down-cocoon
the fulcrum of platform
a star of sod in the ground transfigured
into a clumpy icy globe packed tight
with icecrusted mitten
chins frozen
secret smile
bright eyes on target

i felt like moving and i thought dancing or a party was the only outlet. until i met snow. snow fell from the sky, and at first i thought, "this is freezing rain". or at least that's what they told me. then, i looked outside the kc3 window, and the reddened sky. snow cones underneath the streetlights.

yeah haha, look out for a wharton-served page sometime soon! gotta fly the flag high. this whole thing is sooo lame. oh and what else is funny? memes are the biggest stalkers out there. it's like...

i never rinsed with distilled. and i never really cared about whether or not i drank tap water, either. and i don't have taste buds to distinguish diet cokes from pepsi ones from anything. maybe not even crystal cola. had a tough time with liquid in general. ah, the ethereal world of...liquids. there's a lot that can occur to you while scrubbing a brita/nalgene in the morning (at the same time, clearly, liquid receptacles are an unceasing source of pleasure.)

i still have these damn scars on my legs. though my feet are becoming tender and au jus b/c of their new regimen. dressed up 5 min in my prom shoes and cello skirt last night for philadelphia o. with the oberlin-doobie crew :^) and wow. jump up and down-fantastic but i think i understood about the acoustics of the hall. there's a very dry and contained sound which seems to muffle pieces like, say, the PINES OF ROME (yeaaaah!) from achieving a hanging gardens of babylon in favor of just a jenga tower of sound. operatic vs concert acoustics. i believe it. never a tough time with sounds. except being deaf and deafer without contacts. we sat in the fourth row unbelievably next to those with furs and mother-of-pearl inset glasses. all the better to be children with, my dear! the relative merits of having the nightinggale in the third movement or the guy from police academy.

early in the morning and i have some more classes today. everything is words :^) i actually had a poem prepared for today's event but i guess.

editing website while listening to mah-jongg has made me sleepy. i just gave up, so if you care, start not caring. no color matches that jamjar poifektli. well, i know one must. but my eyes are all betwixt with sleepiness. or maybe pietro's penne puttanesca (ah naughty language) and having carried a coffee table from rittenhouse to u-city. with the help of septa and a multicultural gundam wing. but i did bung it into my calf, right where my boots chafed a bloody hole in the skin awhile ago. but anyway. so right, print out some stickers. they date from the late AP physics dynasty. it helps the existential sticker-ness if you have label-paper. please note that i have doubled the sticker ration as to maximize efficiency. teehee, here come those damn mexican enchilada sugars again. honestly one of the more incomprehensible things i've eaten. so i got this free table from this girl in center city tonight and i'm gonna get all carrington on its ass. woooo. what else. a lot else. good food day in general. i saw salon oggi, which erick recommends. and susan's yarn! rittenhouse and surrounding. oh and we went to the museum today but got shut out of the van-gogh exhibit. i was feeling groggy and headachy through nearly everything except kimonos and dutch tile. some little minor paint-texture revelations. "black red-orange". always good-looking ppl at libraries. i mean museums. ahhhh. my room's still beautiful of course. m2 came back to penntv. virgin suicides is playing tomorrow. changed my entire school schedule to better reflect. made a t-shirt that says 'sit down'. gonna upshift the web-design so you can change the color of the accents at the click...of...a...mouse. that includes the jam. this table has revolutionized our hallway! so later.

"he practiced by sitting at his desk for hours, not moving, not working. that way he prepared his mind for studying."
"so she gathered up all these fabulous quotes from everything she'd read and wrote them on little files. aced every paper. then when she graduated, she realized - 'there really is no job out there that is like this.'" if both of these statements are mythological and not really even applicable to any given situation, then...i'll just work hard. almost a month of knitting and city streets and life-editing. SLOTH! lots of 'mmhm' and a little 'yeah!' teehee. floating, floating, oops! g-wake up early tomorrow, i'm amtrekking to philadelphia without any luggage b/c my parents are being so kind and automatic (ginger? doh) as to bring some whirdly goods down to me next week. beautiful! check check check.

soft pedal, muffled song
listening to my brother play chopin downstairs
after he's been sitting lights out
the monitor luminous
tenchi muyo whose pixelated grace
his hibernating fingers won't match
tonight
soft pedal
because it's been years

80s is not retro 94 96 01 today is retro.
shopping: converting money into yourself
making friends: converting people into objects
reading: converting instinct into recognition
patterns: converting intelligence into instinct

professing idylls

"I've always thought of culture as the set of symbols we use to communicate with each other...it would be nice if someone would look at a gas station in the moonlight and say, 'That's pure John Adams'." (heavily paraphrased)

that chilling feeling [you get] when you consciously state a goal [for yourself]. [what goal?] library tomorrow. journalism in ten years. glasshouse [in] fifteen. a curtain blotches into existence before [your] tired eyes, [and your] hands are tied as you tense for the plummet into the future. [yes,] a plummet, not a rise. nor a flight. no, imagine your body pushed [forward] while your feet are anchored. unable to right yourself, you swoop [and floop] down and (did i mention there's no floor, just this bird-perch) your eyes capture [nothing but] color and line. [your] head [your] shoulders, [your] locked knees swing [around] upside down [then] back up [to] equilibrium. [as you flap and] whoosh [your] arms to steady yourself, you notice you're somewhere else [completely]. well, no, not at all. did i make you a little queasy though? every word in brackets is unnecessary.

that chilling feeling when you consciously state a goal. library tomorrow. journalism in ten years. glasshouse fifteen. a curtain blotches into existence before tired eyes, hands are tied as you tense for the plummet into the future. a plummet, not a rise. nor a flight. no, imagine your body pushed while your feet are anchored. unable to right yourself, you swoop down and (did i mention there's no floor, just this bird-perch) your eyes capture color and line. head shoulders, locked knees swing upside down back up equilibrium. whoosh arms to steady yourself, you notice you're somewhere else.

the new dd/br has ceiling lights and hanging lights and thus, yet another clean well-lighted place in a dark place. that's where you can put on andrew's parisian sephora glasses and fresnel will render any light into a heartshaped halo. right. anyway. there i realized that i have no good fortune but just a family. a family which is buying me a work ethic and a heritage. it cuts. just like when i was younger. whether i am or was motivated by long-term goals, short-term goals, the dream, the personality, or guilt. baklava and yogurt before the store closes. imagine you're on an island...

another world where i still had my palm pilot and that extra half hour. camera focuses on richter's forbidding cranium, bobbing and weaving through the hordes of sixteenth notes and accidentals with which chopin laced the page. some strange immaculateness to archelangeli's hands and shoes. zeugma something i don't care: playing the piano i lost my touch early and playing the cello i generally was too late. and here's glenn gould. inevitably (transcription of ravel's...la valse a little unconvincing for a believer.) footage of him playing bach d though he looks so rooted and organic. "nothing surprises"? now a string quartet and bartok, yesterday the magazine. i wish someone was trying to tell me something.

su-per cres-cent fresh! why do i love working so much? 'manual labor' 'service industry' 'new york state's finest champagne' woo. and yes on new year's (eve). consider for instance that i am the asian countess de hohenlohe and that the song 'yellow' was dedicated to me...whoa. anyway so aside from any obvious reasons, and the other reasons which are less cheeky more lippy, it's because it frees me from the impatience which turned me from a neat to a messy. and that is why i made myself a nicens dinner at 2 o' clock tonight and why i will clean my contacts before retiring. teriyaki sauce marinating the right hand and all you can do is wait. smile, smile, smile. or don't, but look intense, hot, spicy, recalcitrant, repentant, hungry, cinderella. a certain kind of posse which frequents o'sho. if i were being rill tiresome and nonfrenchical i'd say like 'nouveaux biches', i'm just feeling tiresome so i'll just have mentioned it. but yes, this specific kind of 'hot' woman. and some men. some hand me their soup bowls, some don't. whatever, i'm soooooo tired. soft kisses. of the 'hot' women and their men. fifteen bucks on the side for quick soup'n'salad retrieval. super cres.