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[02 Dec 2006|04:22pm] |
i was going to turn the following into a nice well written story, i'm too lazy, but maybe structure won't lead to points of exclamation or just points at all,,, maybe you will feel it too,? ? ??////////////
bravo, for copy+paste, ta da, in aim:
anne dr0id (12:21:55 AM): on thanksgiving day i went to my aunt's house to fax something and fetch my cousin her giant snoopy doll
anne dr0id (12:22:25 AM): i handed the letter for my uncle to fax told him "i don't know how to use a fax machine." as he faxed this letter i was wandering like i was in a doctors office because we barely speak
anne dr0id (12:22:40 AM): i caught a glimpse of their obnoxiously big aquarium full of goldifhs
anne dr0id (12:23:01 AM): there was one goldfish the most beautiful i'd ever seen, if i were the girl in the white balloon i would want it more than anything
anne dr0id (12:23:39 AM): anyway it had a string tied around it's body tied to a little floaty thing that looked like a packing peanut. i asked my uncle what was up with the fish and he told me the little foam thing was keeping it afloat
anne dr0id (12:24:45 AM): i stared at it for forever, getting glimpses of my reflection every couple of seconds, i thought its motions were so kind. there was a bigger version of it in the tank and i hoped it would grow big like that one. i vowed to return the next day to film it
anne dr0id (12:25:42 AM): my mom mentioned the goldfish randomnly to me the next day and i told her how beautiful i thought it was. she told me that the string that was tied around the darling was too tight, it had cut into its body, it began to bleed and my darling died.
anne dr0id (12:26:12 AM): i don't know why, but it has bothered me, not like a plague, but i think of its motions and it makes me sad.
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| whining on lj instead of living |
[11 May 2006|02:46am] |
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438096q ;iOrwea90437q20 o ji i hate papers i hate papers i hate papers
this week sucks so bad if i don't get into production 2 i'm going to cry and by cry i mean daily every night to sleep, 2 classes from being a senior, i never get decent registration time, the slots are flying as we speak, this is dramatic, i could go on about the equipment or really lack thereof but seriously i shouldn't be more lazy about this paper.
"beautiful like the fortuitous meeting, on a dissection table, of a sewing machine and an umbrella"
surrealism is such fantastic stuff i still have a red bull to drink and hours to not sleep.
i got attacked by a billboard yesterday, seriously i was the only person that couldn't avoid this monstrosity that the wind carried down the block (and took up the whole sidewalk in length, and why it happened to be in the street who knows) and then into my entire body. engulfed in embarassment city.
my eyes hurt.
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[26 Apr 2006|01:34am] |
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last night i had a dream world/inferno friendship society played in the auditorium of my elementary school. then jack and i started a deep conversation while he was on the mic and he just ended up talking to me. at one point our convo was over and he was sitting/laying in the strangest position (on top of a bunch of punks that were sitting in auditorium seats) and i began caressing his shoe. i was also wearing white tights. i would never wear white tights. (knowing me i will probably own a pair of white tights in six months).
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[21 Mar 2006|11:00pm] |
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slow deaths.
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| lurve. |
[15 Mar 2006|02:09am] |
Officer Olson: What'd this guy look like anyway?
Mr. Mohra: Oh, he was a little guy. Kinda funny lookin'.
Officer Olson: Uh-huh. In what way?
Mr. Mohra: Oh, just in a general kinda way.
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| walking with the wind. |
[09 Feb 2006|01:43am] |
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mood |
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 happy |
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music |
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clap your hand say yeah |
] |
"these flowers bloom in the new year," said my mom.
i'm going to write the script i've been afraid of writing before i even knew i wanted to write it, so strange, nothing makes sense, but in a pretty nonsense whirl.
i really love life right now, surrounded by nonstop camera talk. my screenwriting professor sounds like woody allen. i am lucky to love something this much.
i bought a book of poems (mostly haikus) by abbas kiarostami, one of my favorite directors, most of them are very sad but here's a cute one:
In the end
the nuns
could not agree
on the color of their dining room.
maybe that's meant to be sad, but i think it's cute. they're all in persian and they printed it in farsi with an english translation next to them.
last night for dinner my family had fish and my parents are masters at eating fish and spitting out all the bones. my mom told my brother and i to watch out for bones in the fish and my dad said "whatever, they should just put them in their mouths." my mom told my dad off and said that since my brother and i were born in america we were not accustomed to eating fish and then she said:
"it's like when we first came america and were afraid of cheese."
hahahaha she used to take off all the cheese on pizza and praise how wonderful it tasted with just the slice like that. here is a cute ripoff poem:
In the beginning
my mom could not agree
that pizza was better with cheese.
ok, i should be studying for my chinese quiz now, i got home at 11pm today, UGH, and i still haven't showered.
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[23 Dec 2005|02:49am] |
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15 pages until freedom.
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| run on sentence. |
[30 Nov 2005|03:40am] |
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mood |
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 scared |
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i am writing a paper and there is a mouse in my room and i don't want to kill it and i'm so productive minus the 5 minute panics i'm getting it's so fast i have a shoebox on top of a table, i broke a glass earlier and its pieces are all over and under my typewriter mouse please leave me alooooooooooooone don't try to sleep with me either mouse but considering he/she is soooo fast i'm assuming they are just the hit it and quit it type.
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[21 Nov 2005|02:15am] |
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mood |
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 hungry |
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i want a slice of pizza!
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| late. |
[18 Oct 2005|04:16am] |
i'd like to commit some harmless crimes to forget the horrendous days i'm having, eat soup dumplings, go to tom's sister's wedding, yes! let's remind ourselves (myself) of future days where it won't be same pants same shirt, itchy hair, troubled glances, and subway doors closing in my face.
i'm still writing about gentlemen consuming blondes, i'm worn out, there's beauty in pain, hate is the biggest waste, hoping to always have hope,
i make no sorts of sense, but having internet access again so i can e-mail professors papers is grand.
my mouth tastes like japanese orange candy, maybe i'll wear a hat tomorrow i only have 2, one with pom poms and the other russian with the flaps over ears that my mom calls the "chinese hat", always cute. i rule out the russian yowserfeister unless i get a fur bikini to match,
there was this exhibit for women's studies on sylvia plath that was excellent and upon leaving i had to obtain some proof i went. the man at the desk said i could just take some of the papers inside and i said "y'know a friend could of always came here and got me those papers. i didn't have to come here." he put his signature on this paper and said "well, i've signed a couple of these already. your professor could recognize my signature." then i said "well a bunch of kids in the class could've gotten together and had someone else sign them!" we shared a nice laugh. i'd love to get that kind of pleasant attitude, i wonder if it feels as great as dishing it out or even as great as saying "dishing it out."
j.z.'s class is my favorite, i'd like to be a tad bit less of afraid of life sometimes.. all the time.
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| dilemma. |
[27 Sep 2005|10:32pm] |
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mood |
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 contemplative |
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music |
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son of a preacher man |
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| horse and dragon. |
[13 Sep 2005|03:49am] |
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mood |
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exhausted & extraordinary |
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I remember when I was 9 years old and my brother was about to turn 12. I thought he was such a jerk for not wanting to hold mom's hand across the street anymore because he was going to be a "young adult," a load of crap that reading levels on books and junior high school made up. I wasn't pressured to let go of her hand, I just felt more like a baby. 11 years later I still feel like a baby, only she reaches for my hand now when she gets nervous and scared. You were always so scared.
She was a 17 year old girl, can count the number of times on one hand she's seen her father, and then he died. And "I had dreams every night about him for years" was said nonchalantly for years. You still say that nonchalantly.
She was a 31 year old girl and could remember days of invisible portions, playing jacks with rocks, and it all disappeared. And the only memory of my grandma is her buying me shiny black mary janes that my mom made me wear for school pictures with ruffly socks, even if they weren't going to be photographed. A wool sweater under a see through polka dotted puff sleeve shirt. I wanted to cry I was so hot, and my jade bracelet would stick to the middle of my forearm, back when I would wear it all the time, just like you always did mom.
And I was just a 5 year old girl, pushing my plastic airplane with orange windows as the wheels sqeaked in the hallway, the same one where I grabbed dad's brown loafer and taught myself how to tie shoelaces. You wiped tears away, and I was so scared you were crying, but I didn't ask any questions.
Just a 5 year old girl, the last time I thought I was pretty, when my hair was tied back in painful ponytails from rubber bands that are still kept around the nozzle on the kitchen sink. My hair decorated with barrettes made of swirling ribbons. Bows and flowers flowed from the gigantic plastic cyclinder of hairclips and headbands my dad surprised me with one day. $5 from a street corner in Chinatown. "What a deal!" I thought. Neon pink hairties I'd use until I was a "young adult."
Last Thursday, a yellow bow on a safety pin that i found on the floor of H&M 2 years ago, broke in a washing machine, because i forgot to take it off my shirt.
"Did you see a yellow bow in the dryer?" I asked my dad.
He said he had and asked why. I told him it was a pin.
Nearing 11 PM, my dad should be in bed, but he walked the 3 staircases down to the basement and back up before I could stop him and returned with the bow in his hand.
"I'm not sure how to fix it."
"Nevermind dad, it's stupid," and I tried to take it back, but he ignored me.
The next day it was in the kitchen in a soy sauce container drying from 5 minute proxy.
"I fixed it, see?"
"You don't have to pin it on your shirt!"
But it was too late, the bright yellow bow stuck out on his khaki green polo.
"Everyone at work kept asking what I was doing."
15 years later, you still decorate my heart.
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| a plea for you to stop pretending to be what you are not. |
[05 Sep 2005|09:47pm] |
i love movies set in 1970s manhattan.
my future backup occupation is an electrician, which would compel me to say "my dangerous lifestyle" as often as possible.
i came home today to 6 moon cakes and that made me happy because that mysterious fattening mush will be my breakfast for the next 2 weeks.
i hate all my neighbors that play their music LOUD, there is slow reggae coming from the front of my house and spanish music [or the occasional mid 90s jam] coming from the back. damn you cacophonies!!
maybe one day i will write something meaningful again.
i'm next to my window and the breeze is absolutely perfect.
you can't bottle the best parts of life.
i don't know what i'm talking about. i'm going to go read things with less than 10 pt font sizes now, damn you heavy duty theory texts!!
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| JONES |
[28 Aug 2005|01:45am] |
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mood |
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hungry |
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music |
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planes flying to the apparent & still ongoing bash at jfk. |
] |
babygirl i miss you already.
p.s. i don't want a man that beats me, just one that seems like he would.
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| i slept so early last night. & dumb things. |
[25 Aug 2005|01:46pm] |
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music |
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the velvet underground |
] |
lately i've been cold all the time, and by lately only for the past two days.
this is the first week since the beginning of the summer i've had my hair down 3 days in a row.
i want a steak shaped guitar.
my a/c is out of the window and my room glows a pretty green again. maybe my luck is starting to look up.
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| modernity is my father's mid-life crisis. |
[07 Aug 2005|08:34pm] |
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mood |
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eh |
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music |
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Arcade Fire |
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i draw that everywhere lately.
me @ 5. i look the same.
a real update eventually. i have a midterm to fail tomorrow. ugh.
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| how has my heart not exploded yet? (zee vunce inn a bluuu moon oopdate) |
[27 Jul 2005|02:25am] |
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mood |
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optimistic |
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music |
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H2O |
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i like marilyn monroe a lot, so much that even if she weren't a hell of a gal i would love her forever for this one line:
No one ever told me I was pretty when I was a little girl. All little girls should be told they're pretty, even if they aren't.
i like jean-luc godard a lot, so much that even if he weren't a hell of a guy i would love him forever, for this one line in 'breathless':
I don't know if I'm unhappy because I'm not free, or if I'm not free because I'm unhappy.
i haven't even blinked since the last goodbye, it's easier without a glance
let's tear up the stills in my head one by one
part of the girl's life story you could never guess, this time will come again, i'm just not old enough.
i just want to feel false in crowds, i've got fancy rags for all types,
find a man to take me home, take a man to find a home
that's where i lost your hand, shuffling through those crowds.
my film professor looks like tom savini, i miss screenwriting, obsessions of the week are francois truffaut & existentialism & kubrick (but that one is more like an endless obsession)
cinema, so life consuming, so beautiful.
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[11 May 2004|04:48pm] |
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Grandfather's been dead for all these years, but if you lifted my skull, by God, in the convolutions of my brain you'd find the big ridges of his thumbprint. He touched me. As i said earlier, he was a sculptor. 'I hate a Roman named Status Quo!' he said to me. 'Stuff your eyes with wonder,' he said, 'live as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories.' (Bradbury 157).
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