avoriciousskirt

Happy Birthday

2008-08-14T18:04:12Z

I just wanted to write a small commemorative Happy Birthday to the wonderful Jessica Bernard, born on this day, August 14th, 1991!

Memphis

2008-08-11T02:59:40Z

There is a reason not to stay out after hours in Memphis, TN. My father is a man whose stories I could write out for years. If you look at him now, he is a tallish, skinny, theologian who spends his days taking care of his garden and grading papers. It is on rare nights when his friends are over that he chooses to tell us the tales of his wayward youth.

I can't imagine being 19 years old, sans a dime, trying to make my way back home by walking down the Beale Street area at around midnight. His mother told him she would pick him up elsewhere, because it was too late and too dangerous for her to come down there. So his job was to reach that destination and avoid trouble in the process.

Before long, he noticed that a man was following him, about a block away. In his mind, he thought "It's over." He spent the next few minutes contemplating how over he was, listening to the footsteps become more and more pronounced, until he felt the barrel of a gun pressed into the back of his skull.

"Mothafucka, i'm going to blow your brains out!"

He closed his eyes and thought about dying. His mother would be waiting all night. Without moving his head too noticeably, he scanned the street for any sign of help. Deserted. An engine gunned in the distance. Another man drove by slowly, music blaring, and rolled down his window.

"Sucka, you's in niggatown now"

The man rifled through my father's backpack only to find a bible. He threw the bible across the street, smacked him upside the head with the backpack, and walked on, cursing loudly. A few minutes later two golden hearted prostitutes picked him up and dropped him off at the place his mother was waiting.

So yes, there is reason not to stay out after hours in Memphis.

Hm, yes, joy

2008-07-19T01:34:52Z

"Lust is a weak, poor, whimpering whispering thing when compared with that richness and energy of desire which will arise when lust has been killed."
-C.S. Lewis

...I would write, but I just realized
I'm STARVING

RAWWWWR

2008-03-29T18:31:31Z

I hate livejournal but at the same time I love it. I also love getting kicked in the face with life. It makes everything so much more meaningful.

You smell like...

2008-03-19T04:12:49Z

[and it's...]
Things change so quickly, and when they do, they do sweep the ground right out from underneath. But when they are precisely what was desired, the only reaction is happiness.

quote

2008-03-15T00:01:22Z

The old man’s knees shook as his tired legs attempted to bring his body to a standing position. I saw his teeth clenching, his eyes narrowing. “Come on”, I told him. I threw his arm about my shoulders and lifted him from the waist. My arm then darted behind his and linked us together. “What”, he demanded sharply, “you’re helping me?” My eyes opened indignantly and my lips thinned out in an angry line. “Of course not”, my reply. “I am a lady, you are a gentleman, and you are escorting me”. His shoulders visibly strengthened; his jaw grew suddenly firm. “Yes” he declared. “I am escorting you”. And so we walked onwards, and he took care that I stepped in no puddles.

Quasimodo est triste...

2008-03-09T05:54:16Z

Quasimodo est fou.
A prayer for everyone.

Falling, and Fast

2008-02-18T23:37:24Z

Cannon fire, three inch rifles release shrapnel encased bombs onto the approaching hordes, fists clench around the barrels of antiquated muskets. Young boys and old men run uphill towards a fortified line. The trees are riddled with ramrods, nerves frayed, the taste of powder, the smell of iron. Half your friends gone in one day. Little more than a skull of shredded flesh remains of the man who played your favorite song on the jawharp. And all those letters. Dead letters that never made it home, telling of the weather, accented by thoughtful optimism. The photographs of brothers sisters lovers friends.

Angry Rant

2008-02-15T01:54:48Z

Because there has to be at least one, and this page attracts fewer views than the Siberian tundra in January:
We need
a more permanent solution
to this problem.
Why are there parents that disregard requests for help? For (God forbid) conversation? I can understand why this would occur with a three year old, and maybe it is the case that the parents have simply developed the habit of turning down the opportunity to speak with their progeny; nonetheless, out of mere common sense, if you do not speak to your whatever-you've-got, how can you complain when they do something that you disapprove of? You've given them no reason to respect you, and no opportunities to earn your respect. The authoritarian ASS approach
does
not
work. However, any fighting that may result is, at best, hopeful. Better to yell your lungs out screaming than live in frigid silence. Better anger than indifference any day.

A storm is headed our way

2008-02-08T07:14:12Z

It has been a hurricane,
and not outside my window, though I do so wish it were. The sky is grey and overcast, and the workload ever increasing 30 40 50 pounds a night, and my eyes they are growing blind and weary and the child was correct: people are getting cut loose from their brains, and growing fearful of the familiar; they've forgotten it all. Approaching the door causes the heart to palpitate and the palms to sweat..."what is that big square thing...??!?"

Superbowl

2008-02-04T03:17:15Z

Come on Patriots...what was that...
Yeah, so what's going on Anne. I've got a lot of homework to do and I'm not sure how to get it done. I need to start playing sports again/making movies/friends/get a life. And I'm pissed that it's aviricious instead of avaricious. You spell something wrong, you can't change it, basically.

Being around that time that we refer to as Post Holidays Pre-Midterms...

2008-01-09T23:24:15Z

Preggers
Honestly, who gets that pregnant? Shock of my life. Anyhow, it has been a rather extended period of time since I have updated this amusing thing we call a blog. Since then, much has occurred, yes of course, but then again, there are happenings every minute of every day, unless those minutes are spent under my roof. Not much happens under my roof, aside from crushing poundages of homework. Something is funny upstairs, because my family is laughing. At least I was able to spend an hour talking with them. I think that's something I needed. If I had an interesting project to mention, I would mention it, but as it is, I have begun to read fic again, which occupies the mind with lighter things. Also, it can be accompanied very well by Keane, which is a secret love of mine. SO, assessing the life situation:

Or you know, not. Lately, people have complained at my lack of communication. What's new there? I guess they haven't caught on that in this day and age, teenagers are only able to express themselves to complete strangers over the internet via blogs. In this safe and neatly ordered html environment, they can whine and cry and, most importantly, relate. And in their own special way, they are loved.

I haven't got much to say. Peace to all.

Indirect Address

2007-12-10T22:36:29Z

The reason I don't do this directly (bringing this relevant issue up to the person it is relevant to) is because words fail me at important times. In any case, this is not exactly meant to be an indirect address to a particular person, because I'm sure it applies to others as well, so if you do not have this type of relationship with me, think about someone you may have it with? Come to think of it, most people probably don't have this type of relationship. Ah well, there is a person I have in mind in writing this.

The issue is one of civil respect. So, in this particular case, it all boils down to non-violence. War. Why is there war? Oh God, a billion reasons. But I mean the whole "war at home", war with friends or potential friends, war with fellow human beings. That's what I'm talking about. And of course, I am a hypocrite. I enjoy violence to an extent--with a stress on the extent. If another person has to ask me not to hit them, that is legitimate reason enough for me not to do so. If they ask me not to touch them, that is also reason enough. Of course I should know it on my own, and I do, but when joking around or what have you, it is common practice to touch people. In any case. If someone is hurting another, regardless of their reasoning, it is wrong. Tearing them apart with words or actions, wrong. No excuses. Even if it means losing a friend. I will not defer. I will not concede.

Bend all your notes for me

2007-12-09T17:44:54Z

BUM bum BUM bum BUM bum BUM bum
Tiddily diddily DRUM drum DRUM drum DRUM drum
Arrrg...I know it's a new stage in life when all I do is wear flannel and hats and sleep. Oh well, at least you can't call me depressed. My ego is rebuilding for goodness' sake, after taking quite the plunge. For some reason, I have hope. Call me a lunatic, I'm finally getting over myself? FOR THE SAKE OF THE NATION. Nah. For the sake of everyone.

Anyway, I'm reading the third book in the Pullman trilogy, though I have not read the second (can't find it). So far, so good, we'll see about it's terribly anti-Catholic end. If I'm ever to complete it (along with Pride and Prejudice...yeah, about that) I have to get this godforsaken work done, so, let's wrap this entry up.

Hours

2007-12-04T23:31:44Z

There's not enough time in the day! Why must I be blessed with a bounty of homework? I have my show tonight (House), and I need to prepare a thousand things, including my microbiology presentation for the St. Pius science class, in which I will feed them so that they love me...and a part of me wants to clean. At least I cleaned my room, it was about time. As for the rest, well, I really want to make that firehouse for my cars. And I want to help my parents out too.

So, Christmas is coming, and I want to go hardcore into Advent. Anyone with me?

America

2007-11-28T01:14:14Z

If Hamilton had become president, he may have abandoned Washington’s pre-established system, including his separation into political factions, or his selection of cabinet members, or even the two term tradition, so soon begun. At the hands of Hamilton, it is possible that these implements would have failed. In any case, he was a nymphomaniac who devoted his time in shagging anything he could find: Washington, the house pet, the oval sofa…

Novel

2007-11-27T23:59:52Z

I could be working on the novel, but am rather displeased. I find that I lack talent, or at least confidence. My thoughts are not as romantic as those of some of my friends, and without the gut or emotional appeal, it may seem altogether too practical. But I'll write all the same, though avoiding my true endeavor for a moment.

After a fruitless meeting of book club, (in terms of discussion) which was nonetheless liberating and had its enjoyable moments, I waited outside of my secondary home, the brick building, reading Pride and Prejudice in the cold. I was expecting my father's arrival at any moment, but it seems he was caught up in some sort of crusade of wages. In any case, my fingers grew numb turning the pages, and only my hatred of Mr. Wickham kept me from biting them off so as to relieve the suffering.

He arrived late of course, my father, pedaling towards me in his one and only coat, a thin and weary garment. He finds himself altogether too tough to wear a real jacket unless he is indoors, in which case he dons a hideously fat down coat that we like to call "the blueberry." It is occasionally my indirect punishment to be forced to wear the blueberry. One of my least favorite punishments, I might add. He surprised me by announcing that he wanted to take me for a drink and a muffin. We've never gone for a drink and a muffin before, so I was rather intrigued. Pater and I ended up at LaSalle bakery, in the vicinity of all the Spaniards. He proceeded to tell me his "incredible" story. Apparently, one of the people working at LaSalle bakery was the sister of my own dear sister's first ever, bonafied, crush: Mark *insert last name*. He hadn't been allowed to come over when he was young because his parents were in some bizarre religious sect that separated the sexes until marriage. I'm supposing that fell apart, because he is due to start work at the bakery next week. Must get a picture sometime or other.

My father thinks the end of the world is today. He isn't at all discouraged by the fact that the day is almost over. See, the Palestinians and the Jews are having one, huge get-together in Annapolis MA, and our Christ promised us that he was the only one who could resolve their issues, that being at the second coming. I told him he had an ant's eye view, that if Christ hadn't already abandoned his former pursuits, he certainly wasn't going to use his one chance today. He told me he was bored. I could understand that. We spent the rest of the time talking about history, and Pullman, and Guatemala, one of the countries Mr. Culpepper should have been born into. Either Guatemala or Kenya he tells me. A prophet in one world, a king in the other. I quite agree.

It was dark, and cold by the time we left that place. I wasn't really up to walking, because I was already mostly frozen. He knew it. And I knew that he would suggest riding on his handlebars. It's our tradition. Or it was, until I gained three hundred pounds and rather gave up the idea of sitting perched on his racing handlebars, but hey. I was cold. If you've ever been a prisoner at Guantanamo Bay, you may understand what the next few minutes felt like. So much for tradition.

We got home and I read my book as he read his. It was really very safe. I was really very happy. I never see my father, and I quite worry about him. He seems so often sad. If he ever reads this, he'll kill me for making it public. Then again, who reads this anyway?

So for that reason, today was a good day. And so it is.

cigarettes and chocolate milk

2007-11-25T00:03:24Z

I have a desperate urge to write, and to never stop, but an equally desperate fear of what would spring from such a thing.

Mmmmm.

2007-11-17T16:08:28Z

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9Mta3zdavM&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FPB1q77Has4&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9k2vlELfmnc&feature=related

Watch all that and you might be as miserable as I am. [Those people are saying the same thing as my parents, minus a few eccentricities.]

No interesting or noteworthy subject to put here

2007-11-11T23:33:38Z

Ramble. Ramble ramble ramble to the few eyes that see.

I enjoy an upfront relationship of exploitation. The use of people for personal gain should not be kept private. But where is the line drawn between utilization for personal gain and mutualism? (Had to throw that in there in the spirit of the Martinet) I don't believe we should ever expect anything of our "friends." That way, we are safely assured that only we are being used, without any threat to the freedom of their respective souls.

Ellen is a good, honest example. There is not the slightest touch of altruism between us, no false promises, no vain hopes. We both know that if we were to be in a life or death situation, it would not only be every man for himself, but we would use the other as a safeguard. Entirely relevant example: Two men in a forest are confronted by a bear. They both strike out running, one ahead of the other. Fortunately for them, they evade the bear's hungry advances. The man who fell behind congratulates the other on his outstanding performance of outrunning a wild animal. The other replies that it didn't matter that he outran the bear, all he had to do was to outrun his friend. I know that I will know Ellen forever, because we are possible. Were that all of our vehement statements possible!

So it is with sadness that I think upon all of the I'llneverleaveyous that I have been witness to. And it's a real cop-out at the end when they say in that sickening whining tone "I meant in spiriiiiiit....waahhh." Then again, we distrustful fiends need commitment in order to establish a friendship in the first place. Fine. Make a low-grade, basic one. Committing anything great to words limits its power of possibility. "I'll harness the moon and give it to you!" Okay. I'll take your word for it. Go do it. Don't come back before you do.

Our intentions get ahead of our actual value. We are cheap people who say pretty things.

Where am I going with all this? Don't worry. To the moon.

There will be an answer.

2007-10-31T23:59:38Z

"Lives lived in quiet desperation." No. I knock myself down, I get up. I currently live in profound sadness, but do you think that's going to stop me? I watched the kids go from door to door tonight, laughing. I saw friends sitting on porches, carving pumpkins. Mmmm I'm jealous. If I hadn't done this, I would have been with my best friend tonight. We could have lived freely. How can the happiness that we had be sacrificed so easily? An act of war has been declared, disguised as an opportunity for reparation:
That which I can understand:
-No friends
-No movies
-No computer aside from homework purposes, and the computer will be moved to a very visible location
-I have to make all the food (psh, I'd do that anyway)
-I have to clean the house
-No excursions

That which is an act of war:
-No books, aside from those prescribed
-Watching four kids every Saturday from 8 in the morning until 9 at night (homework? yes? no? maybe?)
-Prescribed music and nothing else

I will fight with every fiber of my being if this continues forever. This spirit. I told them that I would listen to them because they make more sense than I do on an intellectual and traditional level, and I am under their jurisdiction in more senses than the legal one. But if they ever dare to tell me to follow my heart...

I am an idiot though, and I see it when times like these roll around, Halloween and all, and Thanksgiving approaches, and all I have are these memories to be thankful for. But I'm not giving up. I don't give up. Yeah, I will grow up from this. I will get stronger. Watch me.

Things Fall Apart

2007-10-28T21:43:59Z

Mother Mary come to me. I've got to do everything within my power to turn my life around and salvage the one that I love.

I might change the tempo a 'lil bit

2007-10-19T02:11:27Z

Curse the sadness that so afflicts this earth.
Without the hurt, the heart grows hollow
Or breaks. You know. Whichever gets to it first I guess.

"Take me in your lifeboat; it will stand the raging storm, it will bear my spirit home"

Yeah, everything is best expressed in Nitty Gritty D

Neque me ipsum iudico, and I'm sorry.

2007-10-18T22:42:15Z

In all this I've forgotten to educate myself before all else. Must get around to it then, eh? Now that I've got something to think about 24/7, I find that I spend all my time doing so, and in the act, discover and categorize the aspects of the intangible that are now close. Of course, it is all so terribly presumptuous to do so. Who am I to know what is, even in my own self? This train of thought is endlessly insightful, though severely limited by the scanty sixteen years of life experience that I have had. I have come to the point that I loathe in others--probably out of jealousy: where the interconnectivity of all things becomes paradoxically apparent and nonexistent. Oh, the fickleness of the uninformed mind!

In all of this, I realize that I must have an anchor. I don't know why I realize this; normally I shoot reason in the face. But I need an anchor, and fast, because I'm about to drift into those unchartered oceans of teenage years that inspire parents to tear their hair out and really bad poetry all around.

Do you have eyes?

2007-10-16T22:29:18Z

My hair is getting sooo long. I need to figure out what I'm going to do for Tonks. I'm really excited, not only to dress up, but to see everyone else in costume. If only school was like that EVERY day. Life is great right now. I can't stop being happy. Gotta wonder if I'm overdoing it? We'll see, we shall.