movies, lately

Kissing Jessica Stein, Easy A, Someone To Eat Cheese With, The Baxter,

Memories of a Back Burner Youth

That girl that broke into your island mobile home was harmless.
That girl went around your mansion, through the side gate, peeking through the large windows and finding your glass staircase. She was harmless.
That girl that spent time with her hooligan friends on your dock, yelling and pointing when fish flew, was harmless.
She walked inside your home when it was in its earliest stages of fruition, avoiding construction workers like they were the feds. She pretended she owned everything, even when the painters came and left it looking like lifesavers vomit. You asked her never to come back, especially when you were having dinner parties with important people.
She agreed because she was harmless.
That girl was me. And I'm still harmless. I promise.

Remember that year we didn't celebrate Halloween? We felt that we kind of missed out, so 2 weeks later, on a random day in November, we dressed up like zombies, got drunk, and freaked everyone out. What a great day that was.

In the Ama"zone"

As soon as it gets just a little bit cold, I immediately find myself living in Joni Mitchell's "River." Any moment that I'm even slightly contemplative, I am aware of the bells, the voice, the melancholy. And I can't seem to escape them. Not that I would want to.

I just saw a movie called "In the Cut." And I believe it is partially why I have not left the house. Something about women continuously getting decapitated and fake engaged. At night. In New York City. Yikes.

Delight in Paralysis

I sit on my bed.

Then I lay down.

I stare out the window.

I long.

The sun is coming in and I close my eyes.

The warmth almost hits me.

I don’t think.

It’s magnificent.

Ugh

Caffeine does weird things to me

when it actually works.


I feel every fiber of my veins

inching with electricity.


I do it to be productive,

but I become a paralyzed effect.


The only relevant onomatopoeia has been used as the title.

Chilean dog! que orgullo!!

At this very moment

I want not for films, television shows, or food. I don't want booze. I just want to drown writing words that mean different things to different people.

Four-Eyed Monsters

There are certain things that can never be taken away from us…
After a long day of concrete, crowds, subway advertisements, and general nonstop movement, you arrive home, the site of your slumber. Nothing looks quite as inviting as your bed. So you crawl in. You put the sheets over your head. Your eyes, your mouth, and your nose are covered. Your eyes are open, though. You’re still awake, but you aren’t looking at anything. You passively acknowledge what is in front of you. You take a deep breath and surrender.

Joni Mitchell once wrote about the sun pouring in like butterscotch and sticking to all of her senses. The sun is pouring into my living room now, and it is unbelievably invasive. It’s not letting me see or sit comfortably. I’m forced to squint. I can barely see what I am typing, not to mention the television screen.
The meal I made is disgusting…I guess that’s what happens when you try to add vegetables to macaroni and cheese. I’ve failed at being healthy. I guess we fail when we try to do things that are inherently against our nature.
This sun is pouring in like cyanide. I try to fight its strength, but the fight is ultimately futile. I am rendered useless. Soon, the sun will be gone and so will my struggle. I will have won the fight…or lost it.

lovely

The Swell Season covers Neutral Milk Hotel

Sloths, just 'cause

The Rest of Us

When a person is alone in love they forget so much. Or they choose to forget. They choose to forget the negativity in the interactions, the distance in the stares.




We remember the little things, their favorite artists, their favorite books and songs. We try to sprinkle them into the conversation, into the present as much as we can. We want to remind them of the happiness they associate with it. We want them to associate this happiness with us. We look at their faces for a trace of recognition; we want them to acknowledge our efforts in making them happy. But there’s an eerie remoteness that we initially choose to ignore because we’re in love. It is only a few weeks, months, years later that we can look back and see what we chose not to see then.



We loved and they didn’t.

We tried and they didn’t.

We think about it weeks, months, years later.

They don’t.







…People look so different when they’re smiling. They look so different when they’re laughing. They look so different when they’re doing neither of these things.

An Approaching Metropolis

an infinite concrete

beneath my feet

beneath the thing that moves

within me it grooves

should I rhyme?

No.

I don't think so.

Cute?

Immature?

Fun.

I swear I'm not trying to be deep or thought-provoking.

Just accurate.

a time and a place

I want to live in a world where it's okay not to leave your apartment, where you direct most of your gaze at the television and occasionally out the window. You look at the people who walk on the sidewalk and cross the street. You make up stories about their lives, their destinations and reasons.

You try to gauge what the temperature is like.

You turn back to the wall, the location of an abstract charcoal drawing you made in a beginner art class, a drawing you like but no one else seems to. You put it on the wall to take the blah away. And it worked. It's between the Rothko and the Hopper.

There's you.


Now you glance beside your television. You stack your dvd's there. They seem stagnant and unused. They are. You think that is worth changing. That is worth moving for. You start the movement.

What are you in the mood for?

Something intense, something depressing, something light, something realistic, something relatable. You want to meet characters in the film that you've met in real life. And the minute the movie's over you glance back out your window to see if you can find any of the characters you've been recently acquainted with.

You can't.

Love, Recommended

Letter of Recommendation for my sister, for her domestic partnership visa approval.

"The minute I met Rob I knew he was right for my sister. I tend to shy away from expressing love in clichéd ways, but in their case, nothing seems to embody the essence of their relationship than cheesy love stereotypes. They say that all stereotypes are generated from some ounce of truth, well, I know Rob and Amanda as a couple that could’ve started it all. This knowledge can come from simple observations, like the way she talks about him when he is not around, in a way that makes her seem aware of how over-the-top in love she could come across as if she truly gave in to it, she tries to curb her enthusiasm when she talks about him, an enthusiasm I know is infinite.
I love my sister so much and it makes me happy to see her so happy. Their love is true. This is made evident not only by the look on my sister’s face, but also by the eagerness with which Rob interacted with my mom’s family, a group that can certainly seem intimidating not only based on size, but also because they all spoke a language he didn’t. Here, I see the truth of their love as evident in his actions. I also see the truth of their love as evident in her actions, like moving to a foreign country away from the comfort of her family and friends, everything she knew, all because she was giving in to an unquestionably strong emotion.
I think of the day I met Rob fondly. It was a very simple moment. I knew he and my sister had been dating for a while but I couldn’t even have an inkling as to how serious and real it was going to become. I wish I knew at that moment just how happy this blonde man was going to make my sister, and how much of a staple he would become in our family. Had I known, I would have relished the moment so much more."

I'm proud of it; just like I'm proud of my sister for finding the kind of love I'm looking for at 19 years old.

an essence

I'd Like to Say

There's something I just realized I want to say. I would like to make a statement referring to something's ubiquity. Something super tv-specific. Something only a die-hard fan would get...


...That __________ is as ubiquitous/common as Christian Dior purses in season 3 of Sex and the City.


Should I sprinkle this statement into conversations to see if anyone gets it? Or should I just write it in my blog and never utter it again?

almost 2

I have a relentlessly runny nose. It is approximately 84° in my room. The fan provides some comfort but not enough to dissuade me from procrastinating on sleep. I'm worried it will suck. So, I delay my slumber with a playlist that reminds me of high school, one that consists solely of Belle & Sebastian and Built to Spill. Does specifying the bands I'm listening to make me pretentious? I guess it's a fine line between naively informative and annoyingly pretentious. I am continuously conflicted by this line and tread it on a regular basis.

Sweetness, sweetness

I thought I understood
just what we stood for.

I thought I got it.
Maybe misled;
maybe not.

Nevertheless,
I'm in the right place.

I was only joking.

de-clutter and pacify

Thoughts abound

obstacles resound

ugly Waits as background

that's what it sounds like.

Magic

The Antlers cover Pink Floyd

Tryna get some StarBUCKS

If I was forced to get inspired, this is what I would write. I would write about my surroundings, which are currently quite noteworthy. I am sitting at the Starbucks by Union Square, looking out the window facing the payphones on 17^th. For what seemed like the past half hour, these payphones were being loitered by a bald crazy man. The bald crazy man was wearing a Jagermeister t-shirt with the words “holy sh*t” proudly written across the back. At one point, the bald crazy man approached the window and I immediately thought he was going to panhandle me. My thought was that the glass wasn’t enough of an obstacle to prevent this man from attempting to get some cash from me. Though actually taking it from my hand should have been a slight hassle, considering I have yet to develop an ability to surpass glass. Ah, it’s only a matter of time.

Bus Observations

It is a few degrees cooler than I'd like in here, but I am comfortable nonetheless. There's a couple sitting in front of me and they're pretty adorable. I looked over the woman's shoulder and noticed that she was holding a bunch of website printouts with different tourist information like important historical DC neighborhoods and where to get the best cupcake. I wanted to make sure it was the same place I suspected. It was (Georgetown Cupcakes). Through some eavesdropping/listening I learned that the other half of the couple doesn't like cupcakes, a sentence I had trouble believing. Who doesn't like cupcakes? I would understand if maybe you were vegan and couldn't eat eggs (kinda sorta), or if you were allergic or something. But to straight up dislike them? That's like saying "I don't like anything awesome or delicious. And I particularly dislike something that embodies both of these." Ridiculous. Anywho, She was also holding up a paper that explained where to either get the best tater tots or a list of places to get tater tots in the area. Unfortunately, this information is something I don't have and would like to. I love me some tater tots.

Something else that is noteworthy on this otherwise uneventful bus ride is a woman sitting across the aisle from the couple. She has been eating pork rinds for almost the entirety of the trip, going on 3 hours and 47 minutes now. I'm almost certain that I haven't eaten a pork rind in nine years, but if pork rinds are what makes this woman content sitting in her small area, next to a person with curly hair, gender currently unidentifiable, then you go, girl.

Ugh, now I do wish the driver would make the temperature a few degrees warmer.

short-term future plans

I used to be really into cooking/playing with food. By playing I mean messing around with various flavor combinations, hoping to reach success. I stopped for a while, but now I've become motivated to pick it up again. I have so ideas that I hope to create soon. If they work out, I plan on writing them down in some kind of journal. Ideas: almond blueberry pancakes, grilled gouda cheese with apricot jam (maybe with bacon?), avocado blueberry ceviche. Let me know if any of these are something you'd be willing to try :)

Here Comes the _______ Again.

good thing rain is expected tomorrow because I have a shit-ton of paper-writing to do. What an exciting last weekend as an undergraduate college student! (NOT).

The Way They Curl

One under the other;

One ends and one begins.

Which is which?

There is no weight,

No discomfort, no imbalance.

There is beauty

There.

Poems Don't Have to Rhyme, ya know?

The many faces of strangers pass me by
We exchange
We look
We wonder

All of us
Alone and together
Individuals and masses

We can understand ourselves
Through mutual consideration

A Re-Attempt

Fell asleep in a daze
an unpreoccupied place
my mind was numb
and uninhabited

I woke up surrounded
peanut shells strewn
taunting my slumber
violating my bliss

The sinister activities of my waking state,
infinitely dumbfounding.

there's someone

That same someone is in my life right now. I don't get to see him as often as I'd like. What are ya gonna do?

everyday thoughts

I see someone that needs help.
But they are far away.
Do I jeopardize my time by helping them?
Do I?
Yes.
The answer is always yes.

I think

I think that life is so important. Excuse the blatant obviousness of this statement, but it's meant to be LIVED. This is not something I am doing by comparing the traumatic childhoods invoked by Charles Dickens and Charlotte Bronte in their respective nineteenth century novels. Ugh. Can't wait 'til graduation.

rip 2006 HP

the post previous to this one was the last one made on my old laptop, the same one I lost Saturday night, a couple of hours post writing the aforementioned post :) Sad. I still can't believe I have to start a new cyber life on a new laptop. All of my old photos and past written documents are gone. Now I get to start from scratch.

things I've noticed

I'm currently on the bus back to New York and I have noticed numerous instances of couches randomly placed in the middle of the woods, far away enough from civilization to illicit the following description: Weird.

Teddy

So, yesterday sucked. Teddy, my dog for 12 years, passed away due to peritonitis. The doctors supposedly did everything they could to save him, but they fucked up and let some of his surgery wounds get infected. He was operated on at least twice and they told us that euthanizing him would be the best option. There was no way he could live independently healthy, without constant surgery and medical attention, something my family could not afford.

I can't even tell you how sad this is. Twelve years is such a long time; I got Teddy when I was in fifth grade. He was technically mine, even though my mom took care of him. I named him after one of my most prized possessions then, the 1997 Teddy beanie baby. He was such an amazing dog. I remember he had a toy football that squeaked a lot. Sometimes, I would mess around with him and throw the ball against a wall, completely confusing him because he always ran past the wall trying to find it. I also would sometimes jokingly call him "Freddy" or "Betty" because I knew he'd still look.

I always loved carrying him like a baby, even when he was pretty heavy. I also remember all of the times he knocked over the trash cans, including the ones in the bathrooms, hoping to find something he could engulf. I remember only having to tell him "go to place", "vamos!", and "sit" to let him know that it was either eating time, bathroom time, or, sitting time.

He came with us to 6 different homes, in 2 different countries, and 3 different states (if you count DC as a state). Always so eager and happy and so completely lovable. I loved him so much and always will. It's so sad because I knew he wanted to live longer, I could tell the last time we saw him at the hospital. He had iv's all over and he seemed to be in so much pain, but he was so happy to see us. He mustered any energy he could to show us, wanting us to pet him. Seeing him last night, post-euthanasia was weird and scary. He was frozen, gone. But I needed to say goodbye. He was the best dog ever and I'll miss him forever.






Teddy Silva
04/15/1998-03/31/2010

"Literature always anticipates life."

I was retracing my thoughts trying to remember the perfect opening line I had been so momentarily proud of.

Fond Memories

A long time ago we used to be friends.
Here's the proof. I miss it.

the weather

I'm not referring to the Built to Spill song, though that is an excellent song I relish talking about whenever possible. I am talking literally, about the weather outside. It is gray and wet, unfriendly. I checked the weather report and there is no end in sight for this rain. Everybody in the New York area and probably a couple of its surrounding states will be overwhelmingly enveloped in this dreariness for the entirety of the foreseeable future. I kinda like it though. I find it motivates me to be creative. I am currently in the process of writing a nonfiction piece for one of my classes, something I definitely wouldn't be doing on a Saturday night were it not for the current meteorological situation. I've been alone in my apartment for a large portion of today, which has been nice. It has definitely made the connection between me and my thoughts more distinct. Also, the cats have been keeping me company/keeping my bed warm. I'm kinda in love with right now, actually. I'm lucky enough to be indulging in some contemplation and a legible expression of it.

I want

another tattoo.

Thanks, Davida

In my writing class today, our teacher passed out a little something Anais Nin wrote in response to the question "Why does one write?" I kinda loved what her answer was...


"Why one writes is a question I can answer easily, having so often asked it of myself. I believe one writes because one has to create a world in which one can live. I could not live in any of the worlds offered to me: the world of my parents, the world of Henry Miller, the world of Gonzalo, or the world of wars. I had to create a world of my own, like a climate, a country, an atmosphere in which I could breathe, reign, and re-create myself when destroyed by living. That, I believe, is the reason for every work of art. The artist is the only one who knows the world is a subjective creation, that there is a choice to be made, a selection of elements. It is a materialization, an incarnation of his inner world. Then he hopes to attract others into it, he hopes to impose this particular vision and share it with others. When the second stage is not reached, the brave artist continues nevertheless. The few moments of communion with the world are worth the pain, for it is a world for others, an inheritance for others, a gift to others, in the end. When you make a world tolerable for yourself you make a world tolerable for others.

We also write to heighten our own awareness of life, we write to lure and enchant and console others, we write to serenade our lovers. We write to taste life twice, in the moment, and in retrospection. We write, like Proust, to render all of it eternal, and to persuade ourselves that it is eternal. We write to be able to transcend our life, to reach beyond it. We write to teach ourselves to speak with others, to record the journey into the labyrinth, we write to expand our world, when we feel strangled, constricted, lonely. We write as the birds sing. As the primitive dance their rituals. If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don't write. Because our culture has no use for any of that. When I don't write I feel my world shrinking. I feel I am in a prison. I feel I lose my fire, my color. It should be a necessity, as the sea needs to heave. I call it breathing."

pointer, thieves

If I were to give any piece of advice to all of the money-hungry criminals out there, it would be to brush up on the faces of certain bravo reality show stars, particularly those who are deemed housewives, and even more particularly, Teresa Giudice. Homegirl walks around with g's upon g's in cash! Just sayin' ....

I guess I need an outlet

I am writing creatively for the first time in at least a couple of years. It feels odd. I have noticed that when I am in the zone, as they say, I tend to look at my surroundings a lot, almost like I depend on any distractions to keep going. I guess that's an excuse for add. Not that I have it.