no one's cooler.

what auto-populates in Google when you type "why"

I just read this blog. I do not remember writing these things, and they mostly don't make sense.

3 true things from the book i am reading

1. it's a shame we only get one life. either/or. gets me down. i want yes and no. at the same time.

2. it's a shame we have to live so long before we learn how to live

3. you can never love someone more than the one you miss

words that should not exist

1. females
2. ladies
3. chicks
4. esteemed
5. hubby
6. hubby
7. hubby
8. reconciliation of accounts


to be continued

note to naysayers

The following opening sentence is NOT a pretentious one, because the author, whatever his faults, is NOT pretentious. at all. You can't both write about playing frisbee with your dog AND be pretentious.

"Through the tall small bathroom window the December yard is gray and scratchy, the trees calligraphic."

golden globes aftermath

Let's just not talk about the results of the Golden Globes this year. Any film committee that chooses Avatar over any other movie in any category is clearly without sense, taste, or discernment. But at least Mo'nique won. On the subject of film, though, here's a quote from Hugh Grant that I enjoy (Hugh Grant, who is,--shall I say it?--vastly underrated as an actor by men everywhere, and who, according to Wikipedia, considers acting "an immature way for a grown man to spend his time"):

"I genuinely believe that comedy acting, light comedy acting, is as hard as, if not harder than serious acting, and it genuinely doesn’t bother me that all the prizes and the good reviews automatically by knee-jerk reaction go to the deepest, darkest, most serious performances and parts. It makes me laugh."


(Note: use of this quote here is not in any way meant to imply that Avatar involves "deepest, darkest, most serious performances and parts," and is mostly due to the unrelated fact that I'm watching Maurice, from Hugh's character acting, period piece British lit film phase, and was trying to figure out why he's moved on to ...Music and Lyrics.)


God, he is hot. 

this cracks me up.

tuesday, october 6

Jay Reatard's Band Quits

---

"Band quit! Fuck them!"

"Band quit! Fuck them! They are boring rich kids who can't play for ahit anyways ... Say hello to your ugly and boring wifes opps I mean lifes guys suck it."

That's Jay Reatard communicating the apparent demise of his touring band via Twitter this morning. If or how this will affect his upcoming U.S. and European tour dates is not known at press time. (A rep for Jay did not have any more information.)

UPDATE: It has been confirmed that bassist Stephen Pope and drummer Billy Hayes have indeed quit the band. Reatard is currently looking for new band members. However, no upcoming tour dates have been canceled.

Punk rock, dude. Punk fucking rock.

Posted by Ryan Dombal on October 6, 2009 at 11:45 a.m.

Tags: Beef, Gossip, Jay Reatard

that time that I shrugged off racism again

My roommate asked me about racism in Champaign, because the stories she's heard about the cops around here have scared her (uh...with good reason). And I said, well, it's just really segregated. And then she looked at me and said, "That's what racism looks like." Oh. Yeah.

We're ignorant because we're segregated and we're segregated because we're ignorant. Would racism even be possible without ignorance? I don't think so. Racism is the ignorance that discrimination based on race is wholly arbitrary. But the ignorance of my father, for example, cannot be blamed entirely on my father. What would you expect?

Everything evil is easy, and climbing out of the past, and out of our own selves, is so difficult.

What a beautiful sonnet.

And you as well must die, beloved dust,
And all your beauty stand you in no stead,
This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head,
This body of flame and steel, before the gust
Of Death, or under his autumnal frost,
Shall be as any leaf, be no less dead
Than the first leaf that fall, --- this wonder fled.
Altered, estranged, disintegrated, lost.
Nor shall my love avail you in your hour.
In spite of all my love, you will arise
Upon that day and wander down the air
Obscurely as the unattended flower,
It mattering not how beautiful you were,
Or how beloved above all else that dies.

-Edna St. Vincent Millay

I just smelled black cherries but there aren't any.

I'm reading her letters:

http://www.poemhunter.com/best-poems/edna-st-vincent-millay/interim/


I'm in the college years now, and when she mentions one of her poems, I google it and read it (she just described her teacher reading the above poem beautifully, though he has always before this been a "wretched" reader of verse). Anyway, it's a great method, this reading-letters-and-googling-the-poems-they-mention method. What a great way to learn about a person's life. Also, I have a list of poets whose work I know and like and it is not at all long, but it just got longer. booya.

I'm excited to see if her poetry gets better or worse as she gets older.

I'll probably be posting more about this.

NOTE: Nothing like the abruptness of a Wikipedia "Personal Life" section to shock you into sadness. So little is recorded of someone who thought so much and so well! There is only room to mention the persons she decided not to marry and the person she decided to marry after all, and that she was found dead at the bottom of a flight of stairs. I hate it. If I didn't know better, I would trust these words as a measure of a life. But, nope. Must read more biographies.

one two tha-ree. four.

 1. My roommate thinks I need to get angrier more often. She really thinks I'm unhealthy. Like, maybe serial killer unhealthy. She basically just told me, in a Pontius Pilate sort of way, that when she hears news of the killing rampage I've gone on in ten years, she'll be able to say, "ooh, I told that girl to get mad more."

2. Thank you God for books written by people who want you to understand what they mean to say.

3. Can I ramble around forever, living in different places every other year and shrugging at boys who want to start relationships with me? And bouncing between really different friend groups, all of which I sort of fit into and ultimately don't? I could.

4. Certain depressing friends of mine like to ruminate on the point of life (there being none), and I'd like to say, I think the point of life is to wait.

I always get really excited to be alive right before I'm supposed to be going to sleep. This doesn't work out so well for me. Also, Rice Chex is good.