at ipods don't like cold weather?

today i took my ipod out for a walk, only the temperature was a whopping 9 degrees. the cord for my headphones got all stiff and temperamental and i couldn't turn the volume up or down while wearing mittens. apparently the touchpad only works for warm-blooded human beings.

i guess we can safely conclude that aliens have no business taking over our planet simply to gain control of our ipod technology. plus they probably can't even get the itunes software in space.

good peeps.

yeah so, my life right now is pretty kickass.
i know sometimes we only share things with the world when we are depressed,
"the low point."
but right now i am on a real natural kind of high.

arguements and competitions and bickering and hugs.
laughing so hard i need someone to hold me up.
walking home in the soft rain, only to remember what a cracking heart feels like.
and the sobs. the drunken sobs. the drunken moslestation. the drunken moment i accosted him. the drunken mess left in the morning. the sober subject neither of us knew what to do with.

"i guess he's just a worryer."
hmm. maybe i will call him whiskers.

the girls who make my life a better place to live. and there are pictures to prove it.

ha. luxor, too. fucking gamers.

happy halloween, yo.

surf's up.

i bought a new dress today (the green one, pat). i won't be able to wear it until may or june or even july maybe, but i am excited anyway. it was torn, so i got 70 percent off. yesssss.

anyway, i sat in bed all day writing letters that i will never send. i am so full of regret lately. and its really getting me down. a letter because i was hurt, a letter because i was misunderstood, a letter because i made a mistake. all those words, for no one to read.

i would like to take this opportunity to mention that after i die, which i assure you will not be anytime soon (god willing). . .that i want my journals to be burned, unread, along with my body. that shit's personal, yo.

i have a cavity, and it makes me sad. i cant eat any more of the chocolate chip cookies i made this week. looks like i am back to my carrot and celery diet.

alright, while the surf shop is way stimulating, i think i am done here. one day i will have the inet at home again. someday, someday.

love and miss.

photo fun.

that can only be the work of jenni.
bitches! i miss your fucking shit.

please PUHLEEZE catch the next ely train. because there is a direct transfer to the El-train from there. haa!

yeah, so it's raining today.
the day i had to run at least four thousand errands--on foot, of course--and it has been raining all fucking day. but when i go home i will make chocolate chip cookies to be devoured all by yours truly!

oh the front porch of ely on the raininest day ever.
i love my life.

i lost my toothbrush.

and it's not even a big house.

anyway, its morning and i've been awake for a few hours now. . .with a sour taste in my mouth. there's something about waking up in this house that doesnt ever let me fall back asleep. my favorite thing in the world to do, and this fucking house wont allow me that simple pleasure. cocksucker.

if you go to saint kates, i want you to know that I MISS YOU!!!! i miss the halls of the cdc, the smelly campus staircases, the feeling of impending doom outside my bedroom door. i miss the girls, and my giant pushed-together bed.

springtime.
frisbee.
just walking around.

anyway, if you miss me so desperately i suppose you could build me a shrine, take a picture, and tell me all about it. i found out there is already a picture of me in the cdc, on the third floor just outside of the ballroom. oh the ballroom. . .so many good times in there--elections, christmas parties, drag shows. sigh.

alright, enough of this non sense. i really do miss you though. . .

drinking makes you type slower.

and if you dont type slower, then you make alot of mistakes. and drinking also makes you hate alex n warfield. yeah dude, i mean that.

to all of you that i love. . .I FUCKING LOVE YOU!!!

love ellie

oh damn.

why all the regret?
all the sense of failure?
the unnecessary feeling of depression?

none of it means anything.

yesterday, i sat on the couch in the cold under an enormous feather blanket thinking of the things that matter. the ones who inspire me. the people in my life and what they are doing there. hearts, hands, eyes, sex.

i thought about the destruction caused by fire. if this were all to burn, who would i be then? what would i have to show for myself?

its the people in my life everyday that matter. i am learning to appreciate them. i like them!

uncertainty

it all has to work out eventually, right?
i mean, people can trudge up the mountain from the depths of oceans of pain and despair. . .most people have success stories

right?

home.
this is the place for me.
but is it the place i need to be now?
i can't exactly afford for destiny to pass me by again.

i blew it. . .again.
that's twice in one month.

now i am sad to say, i am content in the company of mediocre mates.
and soon i will be nearly alone again.

at least, when the snow comes, i can go skiing everyday.
every day!!!

wondering.

why haven't you fallen in love with me yet?

moving day (again).

today i am moving home.
but am i actually going back?
i mean, "moving" consists of taking your things from one place, and happily bringing them someplace else.
if i don't have a bed to make, a closet to sift through, a table to set, can i really be "moved?"
"home is where you lay your hat."
but my hat has nowhere to be laid.
"home is where the heart is."
my heart has forgotten how to feel; unaware of it's surroundings or the outside forces pulling it in every direction.
home just doesn't feel like "home" anymore.

fusion.

My mom was a free lovin' flower child
My dad enlisted in the Vietnam War.
How's that for fusion?
My mother graduated high school in 1971, didn't go to college at first because of all the violence taking place on the university campus. She was afraid. She was afraid to think. She was afraid to speak.
My dad didn't finish high school--he dropped out at age 17--but if he had, the year would have been 1963. He joined the United States Marine Corp, turned 19 in the jungles under siege. This was his choice.

As a child, I often wondered how my parents ever came together. Why a naive idealist and a war-ravaged nationalist would ever consider marital union? For lessons to be learned, I supposed, compliments of one another. One to stir things up and the other to smooth out the wrinkles.
The wrinkles soon revealed themselves as rifts, while it became evident that the stirring was actually a boil.
My parents divorced when I was five.

. . .I began writing my memoir in Jazz class one summer. . .

stagnant.

do you ever go to sleep to dream?
and then the dream turns out to be nothing like the way you want it.
cant go back there
stay up thinking instead.

the stadium lights looked blankly down upon us,
basking in the spotlight was never meant for you and me.
i didnt expect to see you.
awkward touching that somehow felt right.

revealing our secrets, laughing at the way things were.
sometimes i just can't believe you.

if only you knew i meant you

dreams are good things. . .while youre asleep.
but to awake, to dismiss the designs that please the senses
saddens me greatly.
to awake and find you next to me frightens me
to awake and find you gone makes me wonder
if you were ever really there at all.

i sure am wordy.

today, kids, i learned that i love words.
i apologize to any of you who have painfully been witness to this in the past. to me, there is so much to be explained out there in the world, and if we are ever going to know about everything--at least in my lifetime--we'd better start talking.

time for my couscous dinner.
out.
(unlike seacrest)

what i like about you

ipod.
you make me want to brag about you. everybody loves you,
but you belong to me.

so far, my favorite thing about izzy (yes, he is pink)
is that sometimes i forget that i am wearing earphones
and i just feel like the music is in the air
like in the movies when music just appears out of nowhere
no stereo in sight, the perfect song always just is.

maybe the guinnesses are responsible for the loss of feeling on my skin. . .
but no matter. i am happy that the liffey is there on kellogg and seventh.
i cant wait to show kate.

birthday bash(ed)

i made the mistake of getting
my body and mind drunk--on my birthday--and
then cruising through my phone book stopping
several times along the way.
i feel like an idiot. . .he doesn't care for me,
but i insist on trying to change his mind.
why? why? why?
I called back some 12 hours later to apologize
to his voicemail.
Then i busied myself with reading, writing, painting.
a masterpiece in green.
"remember me."
The return phone call. My body enters a
nervous state: sweaty palms, mumbling mouth.
Nervous voiced overlapping, questioning, questioning.
Nervous disconnect, and left with an awkward
unaccomplished feeling.
damn it! damn it!
I can see myself moving toward some dark place ahead,
but my arms don't stretch far enough to pull me back.

incense and cigarettes

the porch is a fucking time warp.
hours pass as we look out through the screens at the midnight pink sky and the bare ass bones of late-blooming ash trees.
mom and dad
grams and gramps
brother sister
me you
we and us
one of these days, peej is going to serve me breakfast.
iced chocolate doughnut glazed over like a welcomed guest to the blue house.
summer will be here soon.

surprise me

alright give it to me.
i want details, i want to know who and where and when and why
you are throwing me a crazy party.
i don't do well with secrets,
or gifts.
but cake i like.
give me cake.
i demand that.

i am going to love being 22.

discontent

my nose is bleeding.
my roommate is screaming and crying.
my best friend is mad at me.
my cd is skipping.
my homework is calling.
my sky is gray.
my hair is (really) blonde.
my friend is driving home in the snow.
my art show is in two weeks.
my sister misses me.
my heart misses my sister.
my nails need attention.
my phone is not ringing.
my bed is unmade.

my paintings are finished.
my week is over tomorrow.
my schedule is clear for the weekend.
my wallet is full.
my family is waiting.
my friends are visiting.
my books are begging to be read. . .

arsenal

and now my life only amounts to one thing: drinking tea.

i don't love tea. i choke it down each and every hour of each and every day hoping to god i get well soon.

i suppose this is it. this is what happens to people like me. the hippies, the free spirits who don't believe in conventional medicine.

someone pray for me.

rave, little bit of drunk, polkeys apt.

"i think you are absolutely alluring."
what the FUCK do you want me to say in return?

"thank you. . ?"

god damn it. i'll be alone forever.
awesome.

stop, stop, stop.

"she cant stop shaking
and i cant stop touching her this time."



god damn. if only i had time to do all the things i want to be doing. theres just no time.

and i know thats no excuse. . .i have the same number of hours in a day as did einstein, picasso. . .i know. but to live inside ones own head is to live hesitantly. to live underappreciated. to live. . .bored.

i will never know how i affect other people. . .what they get from spending their time with me. i will never see myself through another's eyes. i will never feel my own touch on someone else's skin.

so where is my sense of accomplishment?

excerpts from this evening

the music is strange and distant. lives well in my mind.
i miss kate.
amazing. . .i dont even know who i'm talking to, and yet the music comes through.
almost an hour later, everything is still shit.
9:53
one problem solved, another to taunt me.
the palms of my hands ache from working hours in vain.
i lost it all and the ultra nerdy wooing.
i've driven the rest of them out, cant decide what is good or bad.
dead air.
silence.
and redemption.

a chocolate shake in the morning

after last night, i deserve it.
i glowed
i shone
i fucking radiated.

four times. four times i was mistaken for another.
i'm glad i'm not her, actually, she probably never gets to go out.

but i bet she doesn't have a chocolate shake.

unexpected pleasantry

some good does come from exchanging several precious hours between my sheets for the smoke-filled rooms and strange shared glances. free drinks is one. short but sweet conversation with an old flame is another. being pulled over, definitely wasn't part of the plan, but when she got off with only a warning, perhaps it was a sign from the Lutheran God of Wisconsin. the best and only, of course. . .
deja vous. . .a threat that plagued my day:

February 01, 2005
You'll accept to use your intuition instead of founding everything on reasoning, and this will open new horizons to you.

. . .well i could have told you that! :)

another gray day...

...i've been a minnesotan my whole life and i still cant get used to it. gray skies all the time.

yesterday was a blur.
beginning with a barrage of green
followed by the soothing envelope of deep red
an unexpected turquoise streak
and concluding with a loud, exciting purple.

it felt good.

out of the blue

so. . .i was pretty sure i posted a new blog last night, but obviously my drunk ass was way incompetent. becca was here, she knows.

anyway, so i now love listening to the radio again. it totally brings back the joy and splendor of being a little kid again.

ahh music. . .love it.

you know what else i love? art nerds. and i thoroughly enjoy being one of them. out of the sheer pleasure of randomness that surrounds us.

and the snow falls

aside from todays distinctive blizzard, everyday is the same as the one before.
the sink full of dishes
the struggle for food
the taebo workout
the weed smokers' greeting
the lust after beer
a short walk in the cold
the brush dipped in paint
the mindless computer games
the same playlist over and over
the late nights laughing
its like college without the classes. but i am getting a bit thirsty for learning again. i wonder if i could get a better education somewhere else. chicago?