Log in

No account? Create an account
sh, a lie.
24 July 2013 @ 12:08 am
So it's been a year since I've posted here. I don't know if I'll start again. Mostly I've been saving my thoughts for the corporeality and intimacy of the printed page, and I like how that feels, how it feels less like I'm doing it to please others who might be reading, and how there's no backlash of feeling mildly disappointed if an important post gets no comments.

However, I've revived my graphics comm (tinyorchestra)! So that's certainly something. It'll probably only be for the summer, since I'll be crazy busy come fall, but it feels great to be iconning again after so long. It's strange; I don't really know why I do it since literally only three people follow it and I have no idea how to expand that number so my work will actually be for something, but I still do. I've recently been reading through all the comms I used to follow here that I loved so much and since the majority are graphics comms, I've been inspired. It's really odd how being a spectator to something you enjoy makes you want to do the thing itself. Well, at least I think it's odd.

I started college since the last time I wrote, and I mostly really enjoy it. Over the summer I've been volunteering as a research assistant, working on various writing projects, and slowly giving up on the prospects of finding a paying job anytime soon. Oh, and I self-published my novella! But things haven't been the easiest for me. Feeling more complex forms of happiness also means feeling more complex forms of sadness. Nothing's truly gone, just evolved. Someday it'll mean something, maybe even soon. Or maybe it won't, but that's alright too.

Since you probably won't see me around LJ much anymore, here's my twitter and tumblr.
sh, a lie.
13 August 2012 @ 12:14 am
Perseids last night, I pressed my face to the screen door, eyes fixed on the sky, and after some time one came, a bright silver streak almost directly in my line of sight. Tears came to my eyes, so this is what they talk about, these are the feelings I get to feel, after so many missed meteors, so much squandered time. One started in the sky between the fronds of a palm tree and streaked earthward, I just thought that was very special. Then I napped and went out again at half past 4 in the morning, when they said the peak would be, and leaning my head back on the roof of the shed staring at the bowl of sky I just had this feeling of accomplishment, like for once in my life I'd done everything I needed and taken myself as far as I had to go and all that was left was to wait for those bright silver flashes to come to me and they came to me. At one point sirens echoed down the street, they were so loud in the night, the sound waves taking up the entire air because there were no others to compete with, the sky a bowl amplifying the sound. I felt very alive, but also very very mortal. I think most of the time I was not thinking of anything at all, my mind was floating wordlessly, when I did think it was to analyze the movie I'd watched earlier. A bird began, faintly. Slowly the sky to the east lightened to a shady sleepy blue and the stars faded, although the interesting thing about seeing at night is that you can see something better if you're not looking directly at it, because the cells in the corners of your eyes are better at night seeing than ones in the center, and soon the only nocturnal things left were the moon and a few very bright stars around it. I looked at this and it made me think of purity, and silver necklaces, and the sixth grade, when I was learning to feel intensely while riding on buses, and then morning came although it was still shadowy in the yard, and I hadn't seen any meteors for a while but I was getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, so I went back on the other side of the screen door and kept looking at the yard and the sky because I just didn't want to leave. Then I heard this bird, it had this wheezy two-note call like a rusty toy whistle, but it sounded so singular I wish you could have heard it. I saw sixteen meteors that night, maybe as many as twenty because a few times there'd be these indistinct flashes at the very edge of my vision and I couldn't be sure but they most likely were
sh, a lie.
Quiet day. Went outside when it was lightly raining to mail my voter registration form and it was so nice that I stayed. The rain on the rocks made them slick and dark-bright, reflecting a pale-bluish light, and the air was beautiful. I peeked at the underside of a low tree with tiny, close-set dark leaves; the interior was a thick layered criss-crossing of their branches like a bird's nest. On the grass I walked in bare feet and tried to pay attention to nothing else but the damp soft prickling.

Later it began to rain harder and I discovered that the rain made a slightly different sound depending on the room I was in. In the living room it sounded like I was standing in the middle of an invisible street rife with car tires whooshing on wet asphalt. The kitchen was a lively pattering, the bathrooms an accentuated plopping. My grandmother's room was a drip against a background of watery static, my mother's room was softer and windy, and my room was quietest of all, mostly just wind.

Afterward I listened to music and did some improvisation I was actually happy with. After that, I discovered a bucket list I'd made two or so years ago in an old notebook and was pleased to find that I could cross off some of the entries. Still later, my family had a barbecue in the yard for the 4th; "This is a life. I thought we don't have that. [sic]" -- my mother. Finally, listening to Explosions In the Sky while watching (televised) explosions in the sky.

I've been gone for a month because I was in Europe. The diaries will be posted soon.
sh, a lie.
11 May 2012 @ 09:19 pm
still need to register to vote because i stopped months ago at "party preference"; i really wanted to say "Independent" even though i'm technically liberal because the problem with parties and ideological groups in general is that once you identify with them, you slowly let the group's ideals dictate your actions with thinking them through yourself. i know it'd be something i'd agree with anyway but i just don't like the idea of switching in your own capacity to think and decide how you feel about things for a default way of thinking. what makes things worse is that Independent candidates rarely if ever get elected to office, that Independent voters have less power than those who identify with a major party because they cannot vote in party primaries, and that Independent voters usually end up voting for candidates from a major party anyway. i know i'll just end up putting "Democrat" and going in and consistently voting for the Democratic candidate because i'll automatically assume they'll have policies i agree with. i wish i could be one of those people who take voting really seriously and actually read the platforms of every candidate but who's got the time for that, a lot of it is beyond my grasp or interest anyway. i'll basically be an automaton and i hate the thought of it, but i don't want to feel powerless and like i don't have a voice in government, etc. and i don't want to be the stereotypical disaffected teenage political non-participant, avoidance-avoidance conflicts why
sh, a lie.
04 May 2012 @ 09:58 pm
i don't even understand how or why things become popular but especially things like mustaches and owls, i mean they've been around forever but they've only recently started being trendy, why is this and how do these things get decided, it all must be some type of conspiracy theory, a tiny few executives sitting in swivelly chairs at round tables looking at prototypes of neotenized owls with paisley designs on their bodies or cute stylized mustaches and from there it's just a matter of money changing hands, the mere exposure effect, and social influence goddamn, just goddamn
sh, a lie.
10 April 2012 @ 11:35 pm
advertising is ridiculously annoying because it implicitly communicates that if you don't have their product your life will be miserable, but if you do all your probs will go away and people will like you and you'll be happy and shit and that's bs because happiness comes from inside you, cliche as it is, it doesn't matter how many things you purchase. and that's why i think people in consumerist societies end up unhappy a lot of the time. because they're trained to think buying whatever particular thing will make them happy, except afterward they're exactly the same, they haven't changed as a person, which ends up being disappointing, which leads to dysphoria.
sh, a lie.
27 March 2012 @ 09:58 pm
1) In the world I want, the books wouldn't tell who the author was until after the last page and after you're done reading all of it and feeling however you will about it based purely on the writing alone. Knowing the author changes everything. An otherwise flat metaphor becomes brilliance when a renowned name is attached to it, and a clever twist of phrase becomes ham-handed and trite when the author is someone your peers tell you you shouldn't like. God fucking damn it, why in hell should it matter who said it, the only thing that should matter is what's being said.

2) I am going to get sick if I eat any more of this glue.
It's pretty good for glue, though. Sweet. And sticky. Like childhood, I guess, except it also reminds me of rice pudding and, for some reason, Asian food.
sh, a lie.
There's this tree I see every day at school, or maybe it's two trees, and that's the thing, because all I want to know right now is if that tree is one tree that's grown apart or two trees grown together.
Yesterday I chalked "Fear does not stop death / it stops life" (not my quote) on a (different) tree; I would never do anything to a tree I wouldn't do to a person I loved and trusted with my life. Afterward I ran my fingers over the surprising roughness of its grayish-white bark. A monitor came over and asked what I was doing to that tree and I said I wasn't doing anything and he stood and watched me touching it for a little bit. Then he said, "Someone's been leaving their sayings in this tree." In my other hand was the piece of chalk. I feigned surprise. "What does that say?" "Something about fear."
Afterward, watching shiny blueblackbirds like bruises without skin, pecking in the grass. Their eyes were funny and surprised and they walked like they were bouncing on springs. Their calls were creaky and teal-colored.
Today, hearing somethings fluttering in a bush but never seeing them, birds or insects, maybe it's better if you don't know, there is a certain sense of loss once you know something.
Yesterday I made a daisy chain and wore it on my head; in the dance dressing room I left it hanging from a lightbulb cage. I found out this girl took it later and that she was really excited by it; there is no person I know whom I would rather have had discover it.
Today I made a bracelet of dandelions and I am going to wear it until it disintegrates or I do, whichever comes first. It might be giving me a mild allergic reaction, but that is no matter. It is also mostly dead by now, but if someone asks, they're just sleeping.