Yay! Yesterday I spent almost 500$ on something useful. Any guesses on what?
textbooks, about fifty pounds of textbooks.
But my English book has a whole lot of amazing peotry. I will sample some later but my grandma want me to go with her to the Cancer institute. They have another pill they want to try.
I'm alone and bored. I just had a tofu smoothie. Yup. I was much better than it sounds...oddly good. If Nell visits me maybe I'll share my odd creation. Maybe.
~How is a raven like a writing desk?
Edgar Allen Poe wrote on both~
My grandma bought me Saved and Moulin Rouge on DVD. I bought a red desk chair from Staples, but they refused to trade me backpacks, silly prats, but my grandma (my hero) is going to fix it AND shorten my pants. Stupid short legs.
Mom's gone again this weekend. I'm starting to enjoy the restricted freedom. I love the hollow acoustics of my home. It makes me feel needed and welcomed.
Oh god. My 'Harbrace Anthology of Literature' is amazing. It has a shwak of Atwood, Eliot and Namjoshi... my three favorite poets.
I'll share an excerpt from each so if you guys don't know their work then maybe this will give you initiative to find more.
Sunti Namjoshi ~Poem against Poets
I fall upon the thorns of life-
I weep-I bleed
but to what purpose?
There was once a poet
who thought she was a nightingale,
who thought she was a rose-
able certainly, having found at least
a way to cope.
Margaret Atwood ~ A Women's Issue
The woman in the spiked device
that locks around the waist and between
the legs, with holes in it like a tea strainer
is Exhibit 'A'.
The woman in black with a net window
to see through and a four-inch
wooden peg jammed up
between her legs so she can't be raped
is Exhibit 'B'.
Exhibit 'C' is the young girl
dragged into the bush by the midwives
and made to sing while they scape the flesh
from between her legs, then tie her thighs
till she scabs over and is called healed.
Now she can be married.
For each childbirth they'll cut her
open, then sew her up.
men like tight women.
The ones that die are carefully buried.
T.S Eliot ~ The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
I have heard the mermaids singing
I do not think they will sing to me
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves,
Combing the white hair of waves blown black,
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown,
Till human voices wake us and we drown.
Sorry for the length, but I love poetry.
So I fell asleep watching Moulin Rouge last night on my couch...and for the fifth consecutive night I've had the same dream. I'm starting to worry. I hope it's only a dream because I'm becoming progressivly more and more paranoid. Soon I won't be able to look at blond people without shaking/quaking.
Trauma Traumatic Traumatized
Long Longer Longing
I'm going to shower and piece myself back together.
My brain has become permanently addled from lack of activity. I'm going to wander the streets. And eat ice sream. Mmm ass-cream. I apoligise for the lack of intelligent gibberish tonight. maybe i will fix this later. Skeebs you made my night.
I, being the lover-ly child i am decided to cook for my returning family. But alas, I hate the smell of cooking beef. It's like nether-region cookfest. Blah. I'm sticking with tofu and mmm mmm mushroom burgers. Tasty, nutritious, and happiness rains from the sky.
I'm loner-ly-ish. I lack the social capabilities to make new friends and the few I have now well, they too have other assosiations to hang with. I don't mind being ditched but I wouldn't mind being the ditcher for once. sigh. School orientation tomorrow. Excitment? Maybe, I'm pretty blah feeling.
Hmm, I want cous cous. Cuz' it tastes to nice they named it twice!
My repetitive dream laspsed into a further cycle. It continued, but this time I watched what is happening behind closed doors.
I'm going to make 'MY' dinner. And maybe check on theirs. I'll post again maybe on Wednesday. I don't know how my next few days are going to go.
Love, Lust and Lavender...