shitzandgigglez

12/9
2010

12/1
2010

11/25
2010

11/16
2010

11/14
2010

  • a poetry phase?

    Obsessed with Directive, Robert Frost.

    Back out of all this now too much for us,
    Back in a time made simple by the loss
    Of detail, burned, dissolved, and broken off
    Like graveyard marble sculpture in the weather,
    There is a house that is no more a house
    Upon a farm that is no more a farm
    And in a town that is no more a town.
    The road there, if you’ll let a guide direct you
    Who only has at heart your getting lost,
    May seem as if it should have been a quarry—
    Great monolithic knees the former town
    Long since gave up pretense of keeping covered.
    And there’s a story in a book about it:
    Besides the wear of iron wagon wheels
    The ledges show lines ruled southeast-northwest,
    The chisel work of an enormous Glacier
    That braced his feet against the Arctic Pole.
    You must not mind a certain coolness from him
    Still said to haunt this side of Panther Mountain.
    Nor need you mind the serial ordeal
    Of being watched from forty cellar holes
    As if by eye pairs out of forty firkins.
    As for the woods’ excitement over you
    That sends light rustle rushes to their leaves,
    Charge that to upstart inexperience.
    Where were they all not twenty years ago?
    They think too much of having shaded out
    A few old pecker-fretted apple trees.
    Make yourself up a cheering song of how
    Someone’s road home from work this once was,
    Who may be just ahead of you on foot
    Or creaking with a buggy load of grain.
    The height of the adventure is the height
    Of country where two village cultures faded
    Into each other. Both of them are lost.
    And if you’re lost enough to find yourself
    By now, pull in your ladder road behind you
    And put a sign up CLOSED to all but me.
    Then make yourself at home. The only field
    Now left’s no bigger than a harness gall.
    First there’s the children’s house of make-believe,
    Some shattered dishes underneath a pine,
    The playthings in the playhouse of the children.
    Weep for what little things could make them glad.
    Then for the house that is no more a house,
    But only a belilaced cellar hole,
    Now slowly closing like a dent in dough.
    This was no playhouse but a house in earnest.
    Your destination and your destiny’s
    A brook that was the water of the house,
    Cold as a spring as yet so near its source,
    Too lofty and original to rage.
    (We know the valley streams that when aroused
    Will leave their tatters hung on barb and thorn.)
    I have kept hidden in the instep arch
    Of an old cedar at the waterside
    A broken drinking goblet like the Grail
    Under a spell so the wrong ones can’t find it,
    So can’t get saved, as Saint Mark says they mustn’t.
    (I stole the goblet from the children’s playhouse.)
    Here are your waters and your watering place.
    Drink and be whole again beyond confusion.

9/22
2009

9/13
2009

  • epic playlist…looking for additions

    “Naked as we came” Iron and wine

    “I’m like a bird” Nelly

    “cherry” Ratatat

    “For the windows in paradise..” Sufjan Stevens

    “Lazy Eye” Silversun Pickups

    “Where do I begin” Chemical Bros

    “Maps” Yeah yeah yeahs

    “Jigsaw falling into place” Radiohead

    “Back in your head” Tegan and Sara

    ?

9/12
2009

  • im so confused and pissed right now

    ended the night sweetley chatting it up w cat and kare. (drunk kare was totally hilar)

    passed out. apparently tbey called me at 2 and dan called me at three. awoke to sharp knocking…assuming their would be a drunk cecil slore at the door. nope.

    it was a complete stranger KNOCKING ON MY WINDOW…”excuse me…come talk to me sweethearttt…” i was just like what? why would you knock on someones fucking window and wake them up. you think im gonna just come outside- let you in to the ALL WOMENS DORM-and give you a beej or something?!?! i was like “dude what? im so tired. im going BACK to sleep” “cmon come talk to me for a minute.” emily instructed me to be quiet until he left. “aw cmon sweetie just come talk to me” and he left.

    now not only am i pissed that this douche woke me up-im fucking SKETCHED OUT AS SHIT. i feel lke he can see me and is peeking in my window. akgaekrgkalegjkaeklgraerg. im flustered. and i hate sketchy boys.

    emily slept talked again about 20 minutes before the window incident.

    just called dan back and he didnt answer :(

    im afraid im not gonna be able to fall back asleep. i cant tell whether this is freaking me out way too much…or this is rational. but i am still seriously freaked.

    ugh

9/11
2009

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