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Saturday, June 9th, 2007
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1:20 am
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I just keep reading today's Achewood and crying a little and then deciding to buy it for my new living-alone apartment.
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(comment on this)
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| Saturday, June 2nd, 2007
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1:37 am
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Dear Friends,
I have tried to send proper invitations to everyone, but for anyone who doesn't know, please come to my family's graduation party for my sister and I think Saturday, from 3 PM to 11 PM at my house. Erin, Axel and Ben will be there, and they came from way far away, so you have no excuse. Also, somewhat hilariously, you will be issued alcohol wristbands, like at a concert at the United Center.
Love,
Lisa
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(3 comments | comment on this)
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| Sunday, March 4th, 2007
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4:18 pm
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Why does every girl who had an obvious eating disorder in high school go on to major in Dietetics and Nutrition Science so that they can counsel girls with eating disorders for a living? Does this seem like a bad idea to you, too?
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(comment on this)
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| Saturday, February 24th, 2007
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11:12 pm
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Sent my Lynch letters.
Colloquium in - 8 days.
I wish someone would come to my Oscar party.
Nora, would you and Nick come to my Oscar party?
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Monday, February 19th, 2007
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4:07 pm - Cut my hair.
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Pitr, did you get my message?
EDIT: Sometimes I really feel like Michael Scott in this apartment, all making jokes nobody likes and thinking along the lines of "I would like to have 100 children, so I would have 100 friends who would all have to hang out with me."
current mood: almost not sick
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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12:04 am - THANKS FOR ALL THE AUTISM COVERAGE, LEON-GAWKER!
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Is it stupid that I have my kids named currently? Orlando and Fox, you try and figure out those INCREDIBLY obvious pop culture references. And is it evil that I fear having autistic children? 1 in 136 American children is currently born with Autism. Them's high chances. I am knocking wood left and right.
current mood: dee-runk
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(7 comments | comment on this)
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| Friday, February 16th, 2007
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5:53 pm - SUCCESS
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| Sunday, February 11th, 2007
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8:31 pm
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Seriously, has there ever been such a shitty February? This month for me has been riddled with near-panic attacks on the walk home from work, crying jags in dark in bed, furtive attempts to conceal various inappropriate feelings, total inertia in terms of my academic progress and writing career, entire Sundays spent inside my apartment, hours and hours spent filing or nodding off over hopeful manuscripts about Chinatown and Israeli lawyers.
This experience has been leavened with X-Filesseason 3 viewings, drunkening, a few movies but not really, the occasional Office or Battlestar Galactica episode watched on Axel's laptop with takeout on a Monday night. I saw Donovan introduce a movie he was in, and I was in the same room as David Lynch. I went to two really nice concerts put on by a band that my friends are in. But I am not doing a good job managing my sleep schedule, academic work, artistic output or monetary issues. I really need to surround myself with a vast network of people to tell how I feel but instead I drop all of it on Ben and Axel, who are saints but ina similar fix. I need to get out and exercise, but have not succeeded at making myself do it yet. I fixate all the time on a haircut that's in three weeks instead of the numerous things I could achieve if I put maybe 3 hours concentration into it.
I'm so scared about what's going to happen in the next nine months, because I won't know anything about it until March maybe, or April. We've pinned a lot of hopes on the trip to Paris, and I think I might feel better after my colloquium. But in general, jesus fucking christ, I haven't felt this weirded out by life since maybe Freshman year, or Scotland.
Even though last semester was crazy, I wrote stories, masturbated in the middle of the day, did exercise that made me feel like I might die. Now walking around at 11:30 PM on a Saturday night I utter suggestions for simple things Axel and I could do, but they feel so faraway and impossible that I don't know what to do. Go to the zoo. Take the Staten Island ferry. A water taxi to a restaurant in Brooklyn. The Botanical gardens. I'm jealous of everybody, unsure of everything, violently nostalgic. All I want is to be back in a place or time when it was sunny and predictable and pleasant, and I don't know when I'm going to get back there. I keep reading up on Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes. Did you know that the woman Hughes left Plath for, Assia Wevill, he also cheated on and she ALSO killed herself in the SAME way as Plath, except she took her child with Hughes with her? Axel said I shouldn't blame the guy, but that's a worse track record than Lindsay Lohan's.
It's apparent I'm mostly incoherent, so I'll go back to my homework, which is an attempt to rewrite a Celtic myth as a semi-biography of my father in adolescence.
current mood: kind of awful
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Friday, February 2nd, 2007
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12:57 am - HE'P!
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YOU GUYS I THINK I'M GONNA CUT OFF ALL MY HAIR SHOULD I I'M SCARED BUT I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT
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(2 comments | comment on this)
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| Monday, January 22nd, 2007
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8:22 pm - Meatloaf in the oven.
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A major finalist for best song ever.
In other news, David Lynch would of course want me to work for him, right?
current music: Never Let Me Down Again - Depeche Mode
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2:26 pm - GEAR UP YOUR SEARCH ENGINES, INTERNET SLEUTHS
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Friends, I have drafted my letter of intent to David Lynch. Interdorks (Daniel, Pitr, Abe, anybody who cares, really), what, in your opinion, is the best way to get it to him. Yeah, I know, this is juvenile, I have a snowball's chance in hell he'll ever read it, if I wanted to hear this I wouldn't have spent three days working on the damn thing. I have his CAA agent's name, so I'll send it there c/o the agent. I have the address of the David Lynch Foundation. Any other ideas, friends? His middle name is Keith.
current music: Mountains Falling - Bluebob
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| Thursday, December 21st, 2006
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7:34 pm - Leon, I hedge your crown.
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Readers of Rolling Stone will enjoy my forthcoming letter concerning Snoop Dogg in the next issue. Heads up!
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(comment on this)
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3:02 am - GRADUATE APPLICATIONS ATE MY LIFE
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I'm home, but it doesn't really matter because I've been holed up in my dad's office (A.K.A. "the site of the only working internet in the house) trying to complete 9 graduate applications. Tonight I have done three so far. There are four in already. This leaves six. Hm.
Clueless is on in the background on cable to keep me from fully offing myself. I won't be breaking any new ground by saying this, but the movie completely and inaccurately informed my vision of high school when I was ten. I totally thought I'd be wearing red cocktail dresses to parties where adorable groups of teens gently danced. I thought that I, too, could regularly "ditch 9th and 10th to go shopping". Then, freshman year, I ditched ONE class, 10th period, to go to a crappy Valentine's Day meeting at the Daily Grind where I got a gross smoothie. My dad nearly killed me.
"Cher is saving herself for Luke Perry." (!!!) Paul Rudd in this movie completely formed my ideas of the perfect man, I've realized. The part where he tells Cher to sterilize herself "for the good of humanity"? My Keeper floweth over.
Tonight, my dad excitedly read me the synopsis of Rocky VI while my mother, lying in bed next to him, put her fingers in her ears and hummed. She explained she likes quiet at bedtime. I love being home.
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| Friday, December 15th, 2006
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5:02 pm - It's a strange day.
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Still in the library, still writing about Atwoodian dystopias. I have a new hardcover copy of The Handmaid's Tale with Margaret herself on the cover. The picture looks to date to about 1985, when the book was published, and she looks like a brunette, sharper featured version of my mom in the Eighties. I find this picture incredibly comforting considering how terrifying the book is. Today, Margaret Atwood looks like a beautiful barn owl, very short and small. I saw her speak in Edinburgh on Halloween last year.
My face and arm hurt from sleeping funny. Here are three more journal entries.
5-12-98
EH! I am happy...
Well, first off, I now know the name of that incredibly GORGEOUS actor who played young merlin [1]...it is...
*DRUM ROLL PLEASE...PLAY THE DRAMATIC MUSIC NOW..AND IGNORE THOSE STRANGE STARES FROM MY PARENTS*
DANIEL BROCKLEBANK!
My friends call him daniel broccoli[2]. That is mean. But I would start a fan page in his honor if i had a scanner. yes, Yes I would [3].
ANother nice thing happened to me today. I met a fellow person. But not just a person, a nice guy from new york, X Darkling or Dave is a cool person. Unlike many people I have known or met in chatrooms. I no tell more now [4].
Speaking of people I have met in chatrooms, I have to tell you all something.
Je ne suis pas le goth.
For you STOOOPID people who no speak french, it means
I am not a goth [5].
Actually, not much of one. I like NiN and black and expecially JTHM, but when I started reading Jhonen, I didn't realize what the major audience was *STUPID ME! STUPIDDDD!* But anyhoo, I go into these chat rooms and people are senidng goth poetry about black mascara(TrajikMisery? You know I speak to you)and so I feel left out. To me, the appeal of JTHM is universial and people shouldn't look at you like a leper if you aer not wearing gobs of black eye makeup and leather pants [6].
Well, that be it, so woola.
5-15-98
I am confused to whether today was good or bad...perhaps it was simply a day, a passage of time....[7]
I slept in until 7:40 am, at which i woke up and screamed "Oh my god!!! Im gonna be late!!!!" and leaped out of bed to dash to the shower, forgetting that i sleep in the nude [8], as I do every day....and so the day began. After my lovely halfhour of trying to put my hair up out of my face[9], i put on my black pants and a t-shirt...then, on the way to school remembered what the weather guy had said:"High, 90 degrees today." [10] Shiiiiitttt. And then, I get to school where everyone is ewaring shorts...even the teachers...and i am literally drenched with sweat... So, at 8:30, my lame ass pricipal comes on the PA system:
Good morning, students. I amsure you have all noticed the recent increase in tempurature...with this change, i must remind you to continue to wear appropriate clothing...to skip over the specifics, any one wearing clothes with undergarments showing...will be sent home to change. Such clothing is disturbing to the school environment [11].
Come onnnn...if our shoulders began to become evil, then our faces will be too, and we will have to wear maskes [12]...I had no lunch and then went outside, ery stupidly....a few thoughtson the tank top issue...what the teachers are afraid of is that girls' naked shoulders will cause some male to have "evil" thoughts...but i can think of no such thing. Sexual thoughtd, you suggest? Sex only became evil in the late Middle Ages, until then people saw it foor what it was...a holy communion between two people[13]...eh...i am tired.Ummm....I have a black kitten named Merlin. yes, yes I do.
a secret message for X Darkling: ...skis...[14]
heheh=...I had to stay after to talk to my math teahcer. she thinks i forged some signature...I can't rememebr, perhaps I did....er...[15
Several times through life, there is a slogan I have remembered which has helpeed me through the good and bad.
WHen In doubt, eat a trout.
Yay! Alrighty, as I am bland now, I saw no more.
ENDNOTES
1. For those of you who have been following this tepid saga, I wanted to know the name of the actor who played Young Merlin in NBC's 1998 miniseries Merlin. This guy is still around, apparently, doing stage work in England.
2. Erin. And that's not mean, that's AWESOME.
3. Before Google Image Search, your best bet for finding a surplus of pictures of a celebrity you liked was finding a fan website with pages and pages of thumbnailed galleries. If this didn't exist, you had better start cutting pictures out of Rolling Stone and Entertainment Weekly and hoping that the librarian wouldn't notice if you scanned "important pix" for a really long time.
4. After my early, poorly-planned and abortive internet love affair with a guy I met in a Johnny The Homicidal Maniac chatroom who called himself "cELF" and claimed to be a 16-year-old living in Vermont (I was 12, we were in love, he was gonna get a Mazda Miata and drive to my house with the Yahoo! Maps directions I gave him JESUS CHRIST BOYS AT ROOSEVELT ONCE AGAIN YOU SHOULD HAVE THROWN MY ASS A BONE, IT'S PURE LUCK THAT DUDE DIDN'T GET ALL TO CATCH A PREDATOR ON ME), I met this person. Well, not just a person. A nice guy. Ha! He was supposedly 15, living in Brooklyn or Queens, I think, went by X Darkling, had an AMAZING Geocities webpage complete with text-only profiles of his friends. I don't know, we talked online a lot. I felt like I loved him, but in retrospect I didn't know anything about him. Pictures on his website revealed him to be very small of stature, which I was into at the time, remember. One time he asked me how far I had gone with a guy, I think I lied, but maybe not; what I do remember is that he told me he'd "made out with a girl and also done a crotch lick over jeans". You guys, I was so out of the loop at this point - I knew about sex and had seen porn, but in a porno era foreplay/non-sex is actually a lot more mysterious. I was fascinated by the idea that licking someone's be-pantsed crotch could cause pleasure for either party. For X Darkling I came up with the borderline creepy pseudo-maxim "Everybody's the same height on a bed", which I think he really liked cause dude was so short.
5. Forgiving for a moment the egregious use of fake French here, this is actually a moment of complete, inadvertant truth. I totally wasn't a goth. I TOTALLY WANTED TO BE ONE SO BAD ZOMG. Probably only Erin remembers the scorching hot May day right before 8th grade graduation when I stalked around the bleachers they wanted us to practice the ceremony on wearing a crappy Marilyn Manson tanktop, The Black Pants, and an intense collar. I've mentioned this outfit before here, haven't I?
6. Or, rather, if you don't find out what and where Hot Topic is until you're a freshman in high school and have to make do with Walgreen's-brand black eyeshadow and escalatingly ridiculous Delia's and Marshalls fashions reconstituted to look dark. If your gobs of black eyemakeup and leather pants are a tantalizing 18 months away.
7. Funny, I rarely have trouble discerning whether my day was good or bad anymore. Must be part of growin' up.
8. I did sleep in the nude, but I did not shout emphatically upon waking like I was having a Zack Attack or something.
9. The quest for a perfect, smooth, high ponytail was a serious and often exhausting task.
10. Must have been rough to "remember" this in your mom's Saab, pre-Lisa. Poor thing.
11. Interesting note: even then, in the halcyon days of '98, I had my classic plumber's crack loaf issue. I just had it with raver pants from Gadzooks. After this announcement, John O'Conner took great pleasure in pointing out whenever my Hanes peeked over the top of my pants. "Not supposed to be able to see your underwear!" He'd crow, smug in our shared knowledge that that rule was about BRAS, not panties. I kind of liked him, too. It was rough.
12. This logic almost makes sense to someone who's spent the last 30 hours obsessively re-reading my twin Atwood dystopes right here. Almost.
13. Well, kudos to my mom for teaching me that sex was beautiful and everything, an unfortunate side affect of which is this philosophizing pseudo-academia right here, in which I flatten about two thousand years of history into some sort of new agey platitude. Seriously, didn't I ever edit anything? My ridiculous statement is way undermined by my juvenile spelling and punctuation. Also, why was going outside "ery stupid"?
14. If anyone can penetrate this truly MYSTERIOUS anagram, I will laud your intellect.
15. Oh, Pre-Lisa. You can. You did. It wasn't worth it, but that teacher could have benefitted from a little humanity.
current mood: hysteric exhaustion
current music: Godspeed You! Black Emperor
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(comment on this)
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| Thursday, December 14th, 2006
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6:24 pm - CALM THE FUCK DOWN LIS
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I just near about jumped out of my skin because I though the coil of the cord of my headphones was a giant winged bug. I'm sitting in the Washington Square Starbucks, surrounded by people, and I thought there was some Amazon Trail shit going on on my tit. Christ.
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2:36 pm - Writing a paper on The Handmaid's Tale and Oryx and Crake
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| Friday, December 8th, 2006
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4:15 pm - Woola infinitum.
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Today, I'm giving you guys three entries in one to make up for lost time. We begin on the halcyon eve of May, known as Beltane as the Celtic religion. In Scotland, Beltane is celebrated today by a big, government-ordained-but-not-approved orgy in a central part of Edinburgh. It's still very cold in Scotland in May.
Historical note: I wrote almost all of these on my laptop, which I received for seventh grade Christmas, in my room between the hours of 10 PM and 2 AM. I stayed up all night on weekends and coded my websites instead of sleeping or having friends. I instant messaged with the best of them. I had so many crushes. I listened to Garbage and Erykah Badu; the most amazing thing about these journal entries is that I wasn't into the Smashing Pumpkins yet. I was a couple of months away from the defining obsession of my pre-sexual years. Well, pre-sexually active.
5-1-98
IT IS MAAAAAYYYY!!!!! O YAY!!! I am over at my pscho friend's house[1]. It is scary here. I like my black pants[2]. Hee Hee. I want more people to sign my guestbook [3]. I like melons. YOu know what? When in doubt, eat a trout. I like that. I like several things. I don't like mean people.
Story Time!!
I have this cousin I'll call Kelly. Kelly and I have been friends since we were tiny little children who wore pink flowered leggings without shame. Then, with the arrival of lovely sixth grade and the cliques, Kelly decided to be nice and desert me for the lovely fakes known as the POPULAR GIRLS!!! YAY! So, to make a long story short, I am now the unliked person in her life[4].
That was pointless wasn't it!! Well, that's what I'm all about. Anyway. I have to switch computers now. Okay, so this is it. I'm gonna go now. Yes I am. mmmyep.
5-2-98 hello. i am back again but will be back later.
5-8-98
Goddamit I have a had a crappy day. First I wake up at six am because I haven't finished my homework and need to do and only finish half of it. Then, in first period I have to deal with this girl who is critisizing me because I drew Morgan le Fay's eyes to big. You want to draw it??[5]
At the dance tonight, which I had such high hopes for [6], I stood around or sat around for two and a half hours. And I felt like such an idiot. Maybe dances aren't the most important thing...in fact, they're probably one of the least. But I cannot imagine a worse feeling than the one I get when everyone on the dancefloor is swaying to some song with a sappy female singer and I am standing there in my bigass pants looking lost, trying to hide the purple mascara running down my cheeks. [7]
Maybe I should share with you what was possibly the worst experience of the night.
That song "Truly Madly Deeply" by Savage Garden came on and everyone was slowdancing. But me. And anyone I wanted to dance with was taken or gone or would rather have moths eat their clothes while they were in them than touch me.[8] And so, in the dim light and soft undertones of that Shemale leadsinger, I remembered something I rather wish I hadn't.
It was back in March...March 14th, maybe. Some Saturday. I had gone out to this place where they were going to put free food out for the homeless and I was busing tables. This boy that I really liked was my busing partner and he was pretty nice to me[9], but nice. You know. That "polite" way people act that makes you feel so bad you wish you could just sink into the ground. So later, we;re sitting on the bus and because my wonderful friends have all deserted me I am sitting next to him and studying the texture of the dirt on my shoes. And I start up and conversation in one of those moments when people tend to talk to much and say more than the person they're speaking to wants to hear.
Sample:
Me: "And so afterI left the hippy kindergarten I went to this special school for artistic kids but I didn't belong there so I left and did stuff but later I went back to the school and would you like to hear about my struggle with finding religion???" [10]
Him: "Uh-huh. Okay sure."
Me again: "Okay, well it all started in 1991 when..."
One of those conversations. And then he gives me this signal from his body movement and the fact that he's drawing on the window that he doesn't care what I'm saying. Now I feel so stupid, so utterly worthless and pointless that I wish that semi would ram into the bus. But then I think, hey, what if he wants to say something? And then the song comes on. "Truly Madly Deeply". And for those horrid, agonizing four minutes, I listen to a singer promise things I can only dream of and stare mindlesly at this boy. I almost begin to cry, thinking of all the failed things I've done before, that boyfriend who was such a jerk and that this boy was supposed to be my salvation. And the STUPID song keeps playing and I can only sit there and wallow and realize that if he liked me, which I know he doesn't, he wouldn't tell me: for I am too odd.
Too different.
Arrgh, the irony. So I didn't like that song. The one boy who was at the dance and could've erased my memory of this horror, i will call him SK, was standing there dancing with Gwen Kelg. Now, you have no idea who that is. So you wouldn't care. But she is a shallow, stupid, catty girl. And he is a short, intelligent, deliciously synical and wonderfully humourous. [11] But the thing is, even if he wasn't dancing with Gwen he wouldn;t be dancing with me. For I am too odd.
Too different.
Goodnite, fellow ones. I go to sleep in a world full of pain and teenage hormone-induced anxiety...thankfully it is a world of Jhonen and Nny and Squee and Devi as well. [12]
ENDNOTES
1. I don't remember at all who this was. My best bet is going to be Mariel. Erin was too smart to let me near her computers, and I was a little scared of Mariel's mom, so who knows.
2. I was in possession of a pair of slightly shiny, non-denim black flare pants with flat pockets on the front. I'm trying to remember where I bought them. I loved these pants. They were the pants I had been looking for for years. Kind of gothy (to me, age 13), kind of shiny, flared. Good god, I wore the shit out of those things. I had a similar silver pair that I also wore to death. My perennial costume by the end of eighth grade was a giant studded choker, the pants, and a Marilyn Manson tank top, the really shitty concert kind with the weak straps and the bad silk-screen. Fun fact: I later gave the choker to Carolyn Studney as a birthday present.
3. My website had a highly customized guestbook available through some amazing service. I wrote all the questions. I think the best one probably went "IF YOU COULD HAVE SEX WITH NNY WOULD YOU PS I WILL KILL YOU! HAHA!" Seriously, remember guestbooks? Before the blog revolution, it was all guestbooks. Fuck comments.
4. Sorry, Lynn sisters. Sorry, Abe, that you were dumb enough to be swayed by Nicole's lusciously damaged hair and permatan. They're actually nice people now, but still preternaturally short and boring. People were amazed to find our kinship in high school, so I stopped talking about it contently, but in middle school, I mentioned it to everyone, because I thought maybe people would like me better. Aynsley actually started denying it: "We're very, very distantly related by marriage." Oh, you gave me that ballerina toy when we were seven and I never forgot, Ayns, never. That day I was probably smarting from some new cruelty. True story: I wore some Doc Martens sandals to school one day in sixth grade and came to sit in my homeroom like half an hour before school started. Some other more socially apt girl had just purchased the same sandals. Her friends ran into the classroom and starred at my feet, giggling, for the entire half-hour. She never wore the sandals again. This was the same week that I wore a big t-shirt and girls kept saying "Hey, Lisa, why're you such a VAMPIRE? You're a VAMPIRE!". Man, they pretty much single-handedly made me an excitable, pale girl who was bad at eye makeup and masturbated too much.
5. As part of the aforementioned Medieval Unit at my school, our dubious artistic talents were put to use. I've never understood the educational value of being made to draw or do other artsy things outside of art class past fifth grade. Honestly, if you're good at those things, you'll know and get the art project for Social Studies, but for the rest of us having to do Arabic calligraphy or an annotated map was just this side of hell. I forget who was mad at me for Morgan Le Fay. I probably drew her like I did and do everybody: big ornate eyes, small underconsidered mouth, strange nose, unreal hair. Sorry.
6. Wait, really, Seventh Grade Lisa? Despite your obvious refugee social status at Roosevelt, your utter "disregard" (read: desperate need) for popularity, your fetching outfit of black raver pants (different than The Pants), smudgy black eyeshadow, mesh-shirt-with-a-hood and weird hair, your constant requests that the D.J. (god, I hope he was a high school kid and not an actual local disc jockey) in the Roosevelt Big Gym play "The Perfect Drug", despite all of this you expected things would go well at a poorly planned cheetos-and-balloon-between-you dance? Yes, actually, I did. Even though I knew everybody, I was convinced that one night the right boy was going to show up and recognize that a tendency to yammer endlessly and a voracious backlist of Y.A. novels made me HOT property.
7. Oh, boo fucking hoo, pre-Lisa. You didn't even own purple mascara, you just wanted to be the sort of girl who did. You had Maybelline from Walgreen's that your MOM bought you. There, I said it.
8. Honestly, guys who were once in seventh grade, what gave? Like, I wasn't exactly Gillian Anderson, but the amount of revulsion and horror with which my gentle, dorky inquiries were met really bruised the shit out of my ego. Why did you guys want to get hot dogs with the most boring girls in the universe, whose hair was always really straight and whose clothes were just inconceivably perfect? I know there's a certain appeal in cream cheese, but it's cream cheese, dogs. You can't compare it to Valhrona chocolate with red chiles in it. Which I may not have been then, but jesus christ. If anybody had even smiled at me, maybe we wouldn't be dealing with these journal entries now.
9. Okay so when I was in seventh grade I went to CCD - Catholic Class - which I actually really liked because it was a social scene outside of Roosevelt. The teacher was kind of cool that year - she used to be Jewish so she was open to questioning religion, and I kind of got into it. Not Catholicism, but CCD. This is where I met Peter the punk guy in high school with the Eastern European last name and Alex Viana (who I wanted to fingerbang me BAD, there, I said it). Anyway, my dominating crush in CCD was on this boy named Seamus, who I've mentioned before in these annotations. We went and did the Day of Service and my whole being was on fire, I had a chance I thought, I had just gotten contacts and for fuck's sake I had a really nice turtleneck sweater with blue and black stripes on it! I mean c'mon! Anyway, I hung on him all day and he was pretty cool about it but on the van ride home he totally wanted to sit with the boring flat-haired blondes, and I kind of didn't let him. Then I told him everything about myself, especially my Wiccan religion (nice!) and creeped him away forever.
10. Gee, what are you talking about, pathologically lying young Lisa? None of that ever happened! Maybe someday you'll date somebody who also lies in great detail to make themselves seem more interestnig. Just saying!
11. Fake names! The true marker of an ingenious roman a clef! I don't remember who poor Gwen Kelg is a stand-in for, but the boy was definitely Mickey Soffer. I TOTALLY had a lady boner for Mickey Soffer, yes, the same one who became ultra-Jewish in high school and ended up going to Brandeis to be a rabbi. Which is cool, but back when we sat next to each other in Humanities he was merely sexily short, pale, and had soft-looking hair. The most erotic moment of eight grade was when I told him I wore contacts and he said, "Let me look into your eyes" and stared at me for a deep minute. "Oh, yeah, I can see them on your eyes," he told me. I wasn't even wearing them that day! Sigh!
12. I'm kind of proving my own point here, but whatever.
current mood: Cold feets!
current music: Meera
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3:34 pm - HEY FOR REAL GUYZ HOW ABOUT SOME METASCIENCES RINGTONES
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I saw INLAND EMPIRE for the second time last night. It's perfect! I've decided! Anybody who doesn't like it is wrong! Only I am right!
Justin Theroux introduced it, and he was absolutely bangable as he read a quote from the Upanishads that Lynch had sent him.
David Lynch is making coffee now. The motto is "It's all in the beans...and I'm just full of beans." which is a line from INLAND EMPIRE spoken by Justin Theroux.
It will be sold by your movie theatre. I will be this man's personal assistant, cigarette-buyer, key grip, and possibly prodigal daughter/heir producer. I am sure you will all understand and eagerly embrace your duties as Goddaddy the Ninth to little American Spirit Locascio-Wilhite-Lynch.
Sorry for the sabbatical from the self-indulgence nostalgia journal entries. Expect one inside of an hour.
current mood: My feets is cold!
current music: Around the World - Daft Punk
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Tuesday, December 5th, 2006
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3:00 pm - Trying to finish another paper.
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Keisha Castle-Hughes is pregnant! Oh, Lewis, it were only days ago that we watched Whale Rider, and I cried, and you said "It would be a good movie for someone this big" and held your hand about a foot off the ground.
For serious, she's sixteen and pregnant. No one else finds this newsworthy but me.
current music: dirty
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| Friday, November 24th, 2006
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1:40 am - FUCK YOU BRIAN
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I cried so hard at The Fountain. I cried for like two hours straight.
One song from early childhood:
Circles In The Sand - Wilson Phillips. My mom would play it and I would sit on the floor of the living room imagining circles in sand.
One song you associate with your first big love:
Sex and Candy - Marcy Playground. Gee, Tim Madden, you get a lot of play on the old livejournal these days. We went to Puree's and got Cokes.
One song that reminds you of one of your holidays:
O Come O Come Emmanuel - Sufjan Stevens, but maybe just because I got Songs For Christmas for my birthday.
One song you like, but hate to admit:
Toxic - Britney Spears. If I ever have to listen to any idiot Music Guy explain why it's Technically The Most Perfect Song Ever again, I'll almost stop liking those insane strings.
One song listened to while you were lovesick:
Set The Ray To Jerry - Smashing Pumpkins. My bed in my room, pink carpet, 1998 - 1999.
One song you listened to most often in your life:
Very possibly Take Five - the Dave Brubeck Band, which my mother always plays around Christmas, but the film evidence points to Papa Don't Preach - Madonna. Me, four, dancing, singing "Papa, don't peach."
One song which is your favorite instrumental:
Tied between Pavanne - David Motion (Orlando soundtrack) and Audrey's Dance - Angelo Badalamenti. My little sister pointed out that A) She's the one who looks like Audrey and B) I can't do the dance AT ALL.
One song by one of your favorite bands:
Flicking Your Switch - Ladytron. SAW YOUR VISA CARD TOOK A TRAIN DOWNTOWWWWWWN.
One song in which you recognize yourself or through which you somehow feel understood:
You And Me - Neil Young. I had a lot of trouble with this question. I wanted to say Romulus - Sufjan Stevens, but my family life has really not been unhappy enough to justify that.
One song which reminds you of a certain occasion (and the occasion):
If Your Kisses Can't Hold The Man You Love - Rasputina (breaking up with Noah).
One rap/hip-hop song you like:
Fuck The Pain Away - Peaches. A cop-out, I know.
One song that helps you relax:
The Friend - Jon Ernsberger.
One song which symbolizes a great time in your life:
Ederlezi - Time of the Gypsies Soundtrack, which Axel put on a CD for me, and which weirdly is Borat's love theme in the movie.
One song which is your favorite at the moment:
Good Stuff - The B-52's.
One song you would dedicate to your best friend:
Haha, these are all so embarrassing. Closer - Nine Inch Nails or maybe that masterpiece, The Freshmen by Verve Pipe. What can I say, Erin? I mean maybe that TLC song...oy.
One song no one besides you likes:
Russians - Sting. I mean, no one likes this now.
One song you like because of its lyrics:
Weary Workers Project - The Metasciences.
One song you like which is not in English:
True Mathematics - Ladytron.
One song that helps you work out:
Aladdin Sane - David Bowie. Because I'm terrible at working out.
current mood:  calm
current music: Get Behind Me Santa! - Sufjan Stevens
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