10.29.98
i'm killing this crap for a while. look at something something.



10.28.98
circles are the most perfect shape.

10.27.98
earnest, yup, that's me.

10.26.98
truth: i have put this enormous gulf between me and people. part of it is due to my new and somewhat alienating i-have-a-mission, but part of it is a really shitty inability to be honest. and i am terrified of living from yesterday on in this strange acquaintance-full, friend-free world where everyone is a dear and 'awesome' and a big 'sweetie' but no one is really friends because i have forgotten how to power down the aloof-i-am-an-adult-now protective shield. like the postcard sez, people who need people are the luckiest people in the world.

10.25.98
Taliban - i don't think i can come up with some flippant tag. just go and look and wonder in complete disgust.

10.22.98
i know, yalies are sooooo concerned with future respectability but hell, like they say - students are (should be) (must be) a nation's conscience. put that trapperkeeper down, girlfriend! then again, ramey's friend was put under CIA surveillance just for subscribing to the Multinational Monitor - like the other they say, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean you're wrong. (heeheeteehee) thing with security cameras, and all the electronic tagging and id-ing that goes on here, does anyone really want to watch me pick my nose? or know which freshmen on what CT Hall PC are checking out the vixens at www.sexy.com? maybe my conspiracy theory roommate is having a greater effect than i thought...

10.18.98
catching up with old friends is a very respectable reason not to be logged on for 10 days. (see previous entry) on all fronts, i think i'm ripping down old M.O.s so fast that i don't really have a clue how to function in this new and about-to-be improved universe. too vague huh. hmmm. how 'bout, i'm so damn used to being a slothful layabout with no real direction in life except a general desire to write that being a boppy if unfocused wanna-make-shit-happen-er is unnerving. like they say, you are supposed to be where ever you are. or maybe it was just - things belong exactly where you put them.
;-)
in high school along newbury st in boston i once saw a rollerblader tear down the sidewalk holding a flowerpot (w/ flower) on his head. at the time, laurie and i talked about people who function like scratches in records, people who pop you out of your groove, even if its only for half-a-second. mmm. no overarching moral to this story. just, more people should be like rollerblader man. yeah. that's what i wanted to say.

10.8.98
allrightie. just wrote a bashedly goopy half-a-column but hell, i just also spent two days skimming through two years of saved emails. all the people i used to write to, and now i'm lucky if 1 out 10 emails is from outside yale, from someone whose face i actually remember. we all send around those "where did all the time go/savor each moment/tell the ones you love, you love them before it's too late" emails in fits of guilt. BUT. you know. they're just emails.

10.5.98
where does all the time go and you really know damn well you've hit some semblance of adulthood when every 30 days or so you wake up and can't believe what month it is. i still smell like a bonfire, but that's because we found a teepee in the middle of the washington mall, or maybe the teepee found us, but at any rate i was exactly where i was supposed to be. not really sure how to explain this weekend without coming off like some newage space freak but maybe it will be enough to say that i believe in fate.

9.28.98
today really was a beautiful day and even though there wasn't a dead robin in the middle of the road, the clouds were still moving too fast for comfort. i took a lot of picture with my digital camera, cornices and archways and moldings and one large piece of mold. that should all be creeping in someday soon. toe by toe.

9.26.98
friday nights tend to be a blur but that's all gonna change in this lifetime. more more, less less, and we'll see if i can't kick this writer's block out the cruddy door.

9.24.98
well i was coming here everyday but F#$* if my fingers don't hurt and my head don't ache and my mind has nothing to say but ouch. i remember mia doi todd at graduation with a free east timor sticker on her robe. no double cd set yet, or counter culture bandwagon sob story but still. people should know.

9.20.98
i feel like shit but here it is, more trenchant commentary(not mine, of course, my horse) on the disappearance of privacy in modern day america. i'm convinced there are cameras in the classrooms. surveillance.
on other things, lemmee say that secular gods fall too and second loves die and how much can two people hurt each other for no good reason except pride and need.

9.19.98 (i think)
i'm fairly mixed up to what day it is. just finished Bruce Cumings' "War and Television" which is damn good book something along the lines of Gregory Dunne's "Monster" in revealing the bs of the american media machine. at any rate i'm pissed that in this weirdo country of ours, when even SNL tried to send up corporate power in a skit, the skit got shot down by the same aforementioned corporate power. i know, self-righteous anger is ugly in anyone but this time i really can't help it. uncover, unearth, all that good stuff and the unadulterated truth makes me go hard with unhappiness and righteous anger. we all have too much at stake in the stories they write.

9.18.98
like ken said, home depot is the devil

9.17.98
changing the culture is harder business than anything i've ever tried before. it's giving me shooting pains up my index fingers. but last night's meeting was the best bunch o' crazy leftwing mo-fos i've listened to talk in a long time. i think the universe is pointing me to my 4 story co-op in some indeterminate US city with the happy clam cafe at the bottom, a pirate radio station at the top and a whole bunch of crazy mo-fo's in the middle making chairs and change and posters and talk and baba ghanoush. on appeasing my middle class bad-ass behind, who's gonna film my submission to the real world casting call

9.16.98
i think i'm hallucinating rain. either that or its so nasty-muggy that water is precipitating out of the air.

9.14.98
wug. saw massive attack in all their gyrating bristol fury. also encountered my two least favorite concert-goers: the overly enthusiastic female fan who screams all the words (to massive attack? jeezus) and the pair of uninvolved stolid guys who stand there like someone told them hot chicks would be there and look sort of perturbed. bleck. kept on hitting one of the stolid guys' asses by mistake and perturbed him even further - he thought he was getting pickpocketed. or maybe just felt up.

9.10.98
this stuff's off the wall. as someone who once told ben lester or someone like him that she was a north korean communist spy, i think everyone should check on the online propaganda wing of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea. for those of youse who worry about my mental hygiene i am reassembling a semblance of a responsible mature existence. yes, selling off my clothes to support my tabasco habit is a mature and responsible decision.
a bit later. i'm just freaking through all these web sites i've been meaning to check out and ran into the first thing in a long time that makes me think being old could be OK. blue hair, wrinkles and all.

9.3.98
pseudo student mono girl. i'm just going to pretend i'm a senior. ohmigod she's got mono. til this girl gets her butt in gear and starts to work it, enter the fray. i love words that lend themselves to punning. like how 'life' is the best name for a cereal. want some life? oh no, i've had enough life for today. please, sir, pass the life.

a little later. decided that there are only two legitimate professions. making shit. or. saving the world. not sure which one i want to do though i'm leaning towards making large public sculptures out of PVC tubing and found remnants of college student futons. on the futon front, i'm still bed-less. i suck.

8.13.98
oieesh. haven't been here in a while. have big plans for me and my digital camera. a walking tour of the streets with many names.
on an entirely different note, i'm tired of MCI telephone heads calling me to ask for mr.cohen and then asking me if i'm his wife.

8.4.98
the bug bites are better, thank you very much. now i own a digital camera i don't need and can't afford. he was a damn good salesman and surely i have been bilked (butt-milked).

7.30.98
this is kind of gross. i have several strange and turgid bug bites. big fat mama ones. being the hypochondriac i am, i think i have lyme disease. which would explain why i slept for 13 hours last night and feel like hell.

7.29.98
the librarian at the art and architecture library seemed a little too gleeful about the fact that i could only check one book out, for one night. s'all good, i guess, because i just thumbed through 'mixed messages' (ellen lupton) last night feeling incompetent and inspired. everybuddy's a graphic designer these days, give schmoe a modem, a mac and craploada programs and he can paper your neighborhood with avantgarde minimalist dadaesque secessional flyers. yersh.

7.28.98
i saw the best license plate this week. it was a CT one that said "heyhey"
otherwise i'm getting all worked up over Gertrude Stein and Bamboo Girl and dreaming of foolish zine glory.

7.16.98
this week should have never happened. i begin to recall what annie-in-school is like and it's not a pretty sight. hoo-ah. on the other front, a word from the yale disciplinary committee:
Among the offenses that are subject to disciplinary actions are the following:
3. RIOTS
The following penalties are among those which may be imposed...
4.Rustication

this is all almost as good as the no "tampon in the toilet" clause mr. ed tried to tell the new tenants of 337 crown was standard.


7.8.98
thought number ONE: i hate asking favors, that turn into sagas, that have to be retracted, so everyone is screwed in the end anyway because the asker doesn't get what she originally asked for, but the asked feels put upon even though they ultimately didn't have to do anything. thought number TWO: new york is not the center of the world, even if it does have good food, museums, better looking people and good shopping. most of this wide warped country is rural-suburban anyway. i just like spending most of my paycheck in new york.

7.2.98
the only problem with believing in planned obsolesence is that everything falls apart.

6.25.98
i know. i used to write here almost everyday (back in the day) when HTML was exciting, and being exhibitionist was cooler than passing classes. i really mean to have fun with this page sometime this summer, but y'all know what summer resolutions are like. i promised someone i'd write incessantly. i wanted to retake up stained glass. i was going to learn to kickbox. all pushed back to the fall semester and my mandated leave of absence. like a good lil wanna-be writer i've picked up didion again. and the new york times, daily (thank grad students) i've really messed up in a lot of ways the past few weeks - life in gray turns into life in hell. hopefully i'll be back here soon. if not, you can find me glued to the phone. humidity. what kicks...

something gleaned from something. not that i have any conviction beyond my uselessness.

"A No uttered from deepest conviction is better and greater than a Yes merely uttered to please, or what is worse, to avoid trouble." - Gandhi


6.8.98
whining is reinstated. the kohster is back, and slower than ever. as a woman who once stuck her face in mine on chapel st. said, "you people think you're so smart, but you're the dumbest people i've ever seen"

things left in the freezer

leftovers

think about it, when's the last time you heard a radio station that didn't sound like MTV's buzz bin. or how many times have you scanned only to find that freaking John G's House Party. i'm not even going to touch WYBC...so check free radio out.

when i was 14, allen ginsberg came to read at my high school. i didn't know who the %*$@! allen ginsberg was, and i didn't much like poetry anyway, so i didn't go. whoops.

i'm trying to write again. exit here for other people's polished pages.