30.3.10
27.3.10
22.3.10
[appendages]
alright.
i've done nothing but draw, paint, go to class, and listen to my iPod.
it's lovely.
i've done nothing but draw, paint, go to class, and listen to my iPod.
it's lovely.
20.3.10
18.3.10
17.3.10
13.3.10
[you don't cry like i do]
- some pics from california that my friend took while i was cooking dinner...
- it amuses me when, in the course of a conversation, i confess i haven't been to work since december and they say, 'oh, so you've been a bum - nice!'
au contraire.
- i am starting to sort through our photo collection. 26 years worth of photos is a long time, lots of people, and many places.
- abigail comes tomorrow.
- it amuses me when, in the course of a conversation, i confess i haven't been to work since december and they say, 'oh, so you've been a bum - nice!'
au contraire.
- i am starting to sort through our photo collection. 26 years worth of photos is a long time, lots of people, and many places.
- abigail comes tomorrow.
11.3.10
[mmf]
very unmotivated lately.
i need to be working on my college application (am required to write 5 750-wordsorless essays for this particular school) but i don't wanna.
i don't think i even want to go, so why should i spend time on a lame, half-ass attempt?
i don't want to do anything but what i already do (with some slight alterations)...take pictures, spend too much money on music, work, and read whatever i like.
yeah, that probably sounds really lazy but i want LIVE, not scamper from thing to thing waiting for my life to start.
life has been pretty sweet lately...i just start the week already tired and end it crabby and exhausted, literally going to bed at 9:30 some nights.
[this may have something to do with my hypoglycemia...currently trying to remedy it by a better diet. and that's another thing - i'm always eating now, like a bird. peck here, peck there, peck peck peck. good thing i like food.]
dearest might come and see me this week.
she must. no is not an option.
i've been rereading mccarthy's 'the road' - sometimes aloud so i can feel the delicious words.
it is like poetry.
feel this passage:
no lists of things to be done. the day providential to itself. the hour. there is no later. this is later. all things of grace and beauty such that one holds them to one's heart have a common provenance in pain. their birth in grief and ashes. so, he whispered to the sleeping boy.
i have you.
10.3.10
[poetry]
he woke toward the morning with the fire down to coals and walked out to the road. everything was alight. as if the lost sun were returning at last. the snow orange and quivering. a forest fire making its way along the tinderbox ridges above them, flaring and shimmering against the overcast like the northern lights. cold as it was he stood there a long time. the color of it moved something in him long forgotten. make a list.
recite a litany.
remember.
dark of the invisible moon. the nights now only slightly less black. by day the banished sun circles the earth like a grieving mother with a lamp.
it's the many hundreds of passages like this that make mccarthy's 'the road' so absolutely breathtaking.
9.3.10
8.3.10
[raving lunatic]
I'm standing on a stage
Of fear and self-doubt
It's a hollow play
But they'll clap anyway.
My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key.
I'm living in an age
That calls darkness light
Though my language is dead
Still the shapes fill my head.
uh-oh.
i'm starting to enjoy listening to arcade fire.
oh boy.
Of fear and self-doubt
It's a hollow play
But they'll clap anyway.
My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key.
I'm living in an age
That calls darkness light
Though my language is dead
Still the shapes fill my head.
uh-oh.
i'm starting to enjoy listening to arcade fire.
oh boy.
7.3.10
[a little more]
strangely, roosevelt took a moment on d-day to dispatch two typewriters to churchill. warren kimball later explained the background: 'after returning from a visit with british military officials in england, general joseph t. mcnarney had written to thank the prime minister for his hospitality,' kimball wrote. 'churchill indicated that he would like two typewriters which had the typeface used in mcnarney's letter (a modified "square serif").'
roosevelt's jocular accompanying note read: 'my dear winston: i am informed that you liked the type script of a letter recently sent you by general mcnarney, u.s. army deputy chief of staff. two electric typewriters that produce this type script are being shipped without delay which i hope you will accept as a gift from me and as a symbol of the strong bond between the people of america and great britain.'
roosevelt's jocular accompanying note read: 'my dear winston: i am informed that you liked the type script of a letter recently sent you by general mcnarney, u.s. army deputy chief of staff. two electric typewriters that produce this type script are being shipped without delay which i hope you will accept as a gift from me and as a symbol of the strong bond between the people of america and great britain.'
5.3.10
[the imaginarium of dr. parnassus]
when is it permissible to move past 'weird' and label a film as self-indulgent?
only when it's not a terry gilliam film.
the imaginarium was beautiful and full of rich little phrases i'd be happy to endure the weirdness for again.
(pictures: google)
only when it's not a terry gilliam film.
the imaginarium was beautiful and full of rich little phrases i'd be happy to endure the weirdness for again.
(pictures: google)
4.3.10
[have some more]
the problem in this country is the drinks are too hard and the toilet paper's too soft.
winston churchill, upon leaving the white house
winston churchill, upon leaving the white house
3.3.10
[interior inferior]
i first published the novella a clockwork orange in 1962, which ought to be far enough in the past for it to be erased from the world's literary memory.
it refuses to be erased, however, and for this the film version of the book made by stanley kubrick may be held chiefly responsible. i should myself be glad to disown it for various reasons, but this is not permitted.
...my new york publisher believed that my twenty-first chapter was a sellout. it was veddy veddy british, don't you know. it was bland and showed a pelagian unwillingness to accept that a human being could be a model of unregenerable evil...my book was kennedyan and accepted the notion of moral progress. what was really wanted was a nixonian book with no shred of optimism in it.
...but i do not think it is a fair picture of human life.
i do not think so because, by definition, a human being is endowed with free will. he can use this to choose between good and evil. if he can only perform good or only perform evil, then he is a clockwork orange - meaning that he has the appearance of an organism lovely with colour and juice but is in fact only a clockwork toy to be wound up by God or the devil or (since this is increasingly replacing both) the almighty state. it is as inhuman to be totally good as it is to be totally evil. the important thing is moral choice. evil has to exist along with good, in order that moral choice may operate. life is sustained by the grinding opposition of moral entities. this is what the television news is all about.
unfortunately there is so much original sin in us all that we find evil rather attractive. to devastate is easier and more spectacular than to create. we like to have pants scared off us by visions of cosmic destruction. to sit down in a dull room and compose the missa solennis or the anatomy of melancholy does not make headlines or news flashes. unfortunately my little squib of a book was found attractive to many because it was as odorous as a crateful of bad eggs with the miasma of original sin.
anthony burgess, introduction - a clockwork orange resucked
it refuses to be erased, however, and for this the film version of the book made by stanley kubrick may be held chiefly responsible. i should myself be glad to disown it for various reasons, but this is not permitted.
...my new york publisher believed that my twenty-first chapter was a sellout. it was veddy veddy british, don't you know. it was bland and showed a pelagian unwillingness to accept that a human being could be a model of unregenerable evil...my book was kennedyan and accepted the notion of moral progress. what was really wanted was a nixonian book with no shred of optimism in it.
...but i do not think it is a fair picture of human life.
i do not think so because, by definition, a human being is endowed with free will. he can use this to choose between good and evil. if he can only perform good or only perform evil, then he is a clockwork orange - meaning that he has the appearance of an organism lovely with colour and juice but is in fact only a clockwork toy to be wound up by God or the devil or (since this is increasingly replacing both) the almighty state. it is as inhuman to be totally good as it is to be totally evil. the important thing is moral choice. evil has to exist along with good, in order that moral choice may operate. life is sustained by the grinding opposition of moral entities. this is what the television news is all about.
unfortunately there is so much original sin in us all that we find evil rather attractive. to devastate is easier and more spectacular than to create. we like to have pants scared off us by visions of cosmic destruction. to sit down in a dull room and compose the missa solennis or the anatomy of melancholy does not make headlines or news flashes. unfortunately my little squib of a book was found attractive to many because it was as odorous as a crateful of bad eggs with the miasma of original sin.
anthony burgess, introduction - a clockwork orange resucked
2.3.10
[...]
i like baseball, movies, good clothes, fast cars, whiskey, and you.
what else do you need to know?
johnny depp as john dillinger (public enemies)
in 1979, my family was living temporarily in newport beach, california. our real home was in abadan, a city in the southwest of iran. despite its desert location and ubiquitous refineries, abadan was the quintessential small town. everybody's father (including my own) worked for the national iranian oil company, and almost all the moms stayed home. the employees' kids attended the same schools. no one locked their doors.
by the time of the iranian revolution, we had adjusted to life in california. we said, 'hello' and 'have a nice day' to perfect strangers, wore flip-flops, and grilled cheeseburgers next to our kebabs. we never understood why americans put ice in tea or bought shampoo that smelled like strawberries, but other than that, america felt like home.
firoozeh dumas
what else do you need to know?
johnny depp as john dillinger (public enemies)
in 1979, my family was living temporarily in newport beach, california. our real home was in abadan, a city in the southwest of iran. despite its desert location and ubiquitous refineries, abadan was the quintessential small town. everybody's father (including my own) worked for the national iranian oil company, and almost all the moms stayed home. the employees' kids attended the same schools. no one locked their doors.
by the time of the iranian revolution, we had adjusted to life in california. we said, 'hello' and 'have a nice day' to perfect strangers, wore flip-flops, and grilled cheeseburgers next to our kebabs. we never understood why americans put ice in tea or bought shampoo that smelled like strawberries, but other than that, america felt like home.
firoozeh dumas
1.3.10
'we are all worms. but i do believe that i am a glow-worm.'
'opinions differ. that is why we have check waist coats.'
'those greeks and romans, they are so overrated...i have said just as good things myself. they owe their reputation to the fact that they got in first with everything.'
winston churchill
'opinions differ. that is why we have check waist coats.'
'those greeks and romans, they are so overrated...i have said just as good things myself. they owe their reputation to the fact that they got in first with everything.'
winston churchill
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