did i mention that green is my new favorite color?

it makes me mad sometimes, but not very mad and not very long. awake on a saturday morning, listening to new mp3s, drinking choco cafe, rob's waterman pen on my desk and fin exam on the horizon. yesterday for nearly no reason at all i spent my available afternoon time walking downtown w/ veronica and kenny, then came back having forgotten about jenn's birthday dinner. so feeling sheepish and guilty until rob called and i hopped a train to swarthmore. where it was halloooweeeeen. i couldn't believe it, especially since i'd been talking to someone about costumes and the pathetic state of halloween here at least last year. "i can't believe you didn't TELLLL me!" boy oh boy. me = sad a/f style, which is funny enough for swat...but lamely and too ironically in comparison to a herd of smurfs and boys wrapped in cellophane parading around. even godiva. it's amazing to go there. this feeling of stress being spread thin over large grassy swaths of land, rose gardens, and the like... fuckin like...everything like a movie.

i mean - halloween on a saturday night by merit of wanting things that way. a broadcasting radio station with a million comps of jermaine dupri. so like listening to sigur ros, jay-z...destroyer. wow. anger and happiness that this should impress me. having a lusty infatuation with sexy bugs and cowboys from deep springs [yo. i'm not kidding.] a damp damp party at m-l. shuttle vans. then haplessly back to penn, which is a beautiful surprising ride of strip malls turning into west philadelphia. 2.5 cigarettes, the gritty penn reality of philly diner (aaron is the best waiter ever, i really think) and then large grassy swath of sleep. that fin exam, now...but yesterday a boy jumped out of the 8th floor window of my building.

Q: aren't those who vowed never to pull a holden caulfield THE most at-risk population? or like, something?
A: answer soon to be found at ditch
this wasn't working, sorry...now it's click throughable...

you asked for it!
actually, no one even mentioned it i just wanted to.

sleeping finally has made me just feel more drawn to my bed than ever, though it's noon on a saturday and that ought to make perfect sense in this best of all possible worlds...despite the ignominy of 'collapsing' after a long week and a chamber music recital. there are probably stages to fatigue and reported fatigue - here the pinnacle seems to be never acknowledging it. but i spoil myself on sleep, unfortunately, and also not good for this my bounding off of some terrible dark mental virus lately, and failing midterms [and subsequently neglecting to pick up said midterms], the accounts of faraway friends. but yeah...yesterday i finally finished this paper, which i'd link to except it's too silly to even mention. then chicken-apple-corn ravel-beethoven-dohnanyi-haydn with manoj and veronica, long empathic session with suyash. which is reassuring. because with people i'm entirely familiar with, let's say 'friends', i lose some facet of that 'empathy' or politeness which i accord everyone else that i only really know to nod to. and why i'm so much better at new people than old. in a similar story, i think i feel constantly apologetic for being eternally taken for granted. my unwillingness to ever blame or lose someone through anger when, no doubt, more work or less humanity on my part could leave things safe. my goodwill teeters at the recollection of this memory or that...i think i need a friend.

this has been brought to you by bloggerbot, which apparently will not be used anymore, because this is ridiculous.

best attitude = sassy

best legs = freshly shaved ones

best data = vehicle occupancy in galveston texas

best eat = beansprouts and shrimp at yue kee

one of those days = my half-birthday = lisa's full birthday

my room might smell because i've been walking around in a brine sockless fettle for a few weeks now. not having any sandals to stomp around in and damage my feet in [my feet are so damaged with twinging cringing pains] and i never liked socks, except for those few moments of weakness that one year. so i'm not sure which shoes the smell is coming from, but ... oops. i'm feeling empowered today, the whole world is coursing through my veins, and there are no particular reasons why, so that's even better, i think. just wanted to document this. it's always better to have proofs. :^P i failed this marketing midterm today, and other things are sliding out of my success horizon, but i feel like just replying to e-mails from adults can help me. a cello, piano lessons, terrible epistolary novels, i have no sense of time because no wristwatch since when? i'm like fucking [jo]job[a], man. who am i writing like? does it matter?

like a phenomenal rehearsal this morning, full of cowboy boots sliding across the floor to the sound of david yang saying 'da DAAA da da' and us just wide-eyed. working in detail at last. and now, i've found some data, finally. and it's late, of course, and i missed jamie's a cappella, of course, and stat is not my thing, ever. my arms hurt from carrying 100 pounds worth of cello and case from one end of campus to the other, and back. just one thing could change.

was wondering just now with lisa why we're both so far downhill than last year, re: the joyous bounce and loose curl which characterized us at our best. in the past. last year and the year before. the potential definitely lay/lies in both of us to be spectacularly unhappy, compulsive, irrational. but for this long? where 'this long' = the first month and a half of our sophomore year in college. and here, then, i'll stop talking for lisa. but as for myself, in trying to compare in some kind of mktg 396 way what has physically or really changed from last year i would really just like to once and for all, blame my having gone to korea. i know that at least these days, i envelope myself in a silence, cracking jokes and sending out other firecrackers so as not to give a sign of my actual muteness, but i don't talk. or i talk in such folds of tautology and fallacy that it's again, just noise. the people whom i trust i threw and throw far afield. i walked around with anand on friday night, not saying a word until i was about to step on the train up and i knew i could start crying if i responded to what he said, finally. the most obvious thing, and the thing that i thought would liberate me if i heard it from someone else, but it didn't. not as much as, say, watching movies on USA or going to woodbury w/ mum today, which was in the warm ale sunlight. and i lose everything, i discard everything, i kill everything with a weary and detached word which comes at a distance, like it was said light years ago, when things were different.

maybe i can hope to do well. things are probably or possibly going well for me in some ways, though certainly not in any of the ways that matter to me. so i don't know. i have to write a paper by wednesday in a class where i am the youngest by like a lifetime of smartness. i'm always coming up at the bottom of my personal lists, these days. 'why do i think that everything i like is bad for me?' i always thought it was enough just to know that you liked something, just to like something. i didn't know i had to live according to something like that.

suicide makes me think of the word popsicle. specifically a dole raspberry juice bar with seeds coyly intact, 15 minutes out of the freezer and just beginning to drip onto your hand disastrously, sweetly, coldly. you might say, that's not the word, popsicle. that's the idea, popsicle. what's the difference?! [running for cover as the platonists take aim] or something. earlier tonight i looked with favor on the concrete terrace in back of HRN, thinking it would be a relief and a good end to a wasted bit of life. sometimes that mood just seizes you rai? it gets better though with some crepes, brisk weather, [no bottle rocket, unfortunately], almost knocked out of equilibrium by dawson's creek and so much work i can't even list here. but i realize it's not all over. i remember what a popsicle IS. maybe anand this weekend i will see you again and something tilted in me might go away. in the meantime i'm not sleeping. i have to earn this.

tonight dave and i saw travis, at the electric factory. strangely a very tall crowd for the show, which sometimes precluded our seeing the lead singer's pink mohawk bobbing up and down in cheeky glaswegian time...but a rockin show. i realized how sensitive lungs can get to smoke [i'm a wuss] again. i haven't smoked anything in about 2.4 lifetimes and it seems really unnatural and unhealthy to me now, which is probably good. and...yeah. lately long conversations as sunlight pours through car or room windows, marching bands erupt into noise outside, rumors of andrew's playboy transformation and lisa's imperialistic love conquests.

and two or three days ago veronica and i played a wedding at avalon beach in nj, which was like exquisite except maybe for our instruments soaking in the wet ocean air. something weird about marriage, i agree especially after hearing luis' views, tony's observational luis-views, and witnessing a marriage of two strangers.

sleeping or not sleeping now seems natural. the decision node, i mean.

could we get things to move a little faster, perhaps?

*i am so still awake.
there's a lot a lot of desperation in pulp hardcore that is obvious, obviously goes well with living in a city, not something i could ever really crawl into at home like i am now especially after that doubledutch dose of belle and sebastian. i took several inclass naps today [booo] and a post-class nap, and now can't find my sunglasses, still no sign of keys, finished the letter for PCMS, and am now juggling numbers for fader. eep. there are several small miniquests of conversations i have to have with people, have to scroll down the blackbox experience with these certain people so i can move on and find the magic boots, the power bracelet, the piece of triforce which needs finding. no? in the meantime...

my feet and fingers and hair and key situation all fucked up yuck. physically everything hurts from time to time,
chantal sung the aria from gianni schicchi with us a few minute/hours ago which was mwah
and last night was rob's tonight i think,
but i don't know about a lot of things anymore, i am just going to work and breathe until something starts to pay
off?

if i were to care, or to work on caring, i would definitely write a paper or poem or fingerpaint about silence. because lately i feel so affronted by loud noises and voices and like just brashness. imagine the feline. imagine cold anger. imagine a slowly melting popsicle. that's what i'm feeling especially these days when it's sooo cold strangely and i go home over the weekend to nothing not one pebble out of place and a strange rising feeling, dreams that my hair has grown out or been flowbeed short, i dream of meeting people i should never meet again face to face and of glowing comments written in red felt tip pen on high school papers. loud noise shoves me out of the delicious past and into the uncertain future and it's sad that i should resent that, but it's true. the crumbs of affection that i should throw to the birds. i am not unhappy just i can't feel anyone listening anymore...that's where the silence bit comes in :^P

but i have these new $10 sunglasses...number two in a series of probably a lot. the point is always to make my face look smaller!