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Thursday, January 8th, 2004
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9:33 pm
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gone as of night 2:
noise
attics
tumors
postcards
footstools
levers
doors
elastic
recepticles
swamps
and dahhhling, your list now is:
3. Infestation
4. Dishes
6. Cancer
7. Accorions
8. String
10. Television
11. Trees
12. Shrubs
15. Dolls
16. Wings
18. Pedals
19. Cement
20. Stairs
21. Blood
22. Whips
23. Bruises
24. Swamps
28. Sinks
30. String
33. Scissors
38. Castles
39. Lingerie
40. Gasmasks
41. Airplanes
44. Coffee
45. Cows
46. Crystals
47. Alcohol
49. Pedestals
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| Wednesday, January 7th, 2004
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9:43 pm
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heidi:!!!!!!!
i am tonight going to VETO the following nouns:
spoons. (too boring)
rats. (too close to ants)
guitars(too indie)
frogs (for some unknown reason)
cradles (no)
glass (i hated painting glass last year in tmp painting. goddamit.)
bread (atkins. nuff said. ha what)
locusts (good noun, yet i have no clue as to how they may look)
corridor (get the fuck outta here, malcom.)
pathways (see above)
now that i have like ripped your shit up.. haha. come on. cross out ten of mine.
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| Monday, January 5th, 2004
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5:38 pm - this one's for you
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ATTN HEIDI:
please exersize EXTREME CAUTION when viewing this off the hook list'o nouns. heres my nounage.:
1. slap stick
2. whey curd
3. lobster
4. iron supplement
5. cellar door
6. noble
7. alf
8. aunt (ant)
9. magic
10. serf
11. bowtie
12. illegitimacy
13. E!
14. cave dweller
15. plaza
16. mail box
17. hoodlum
18. feet
19. awkward situation
20. Quebec
21. Benjamin Franklin
22. corn on the cob
23. pliers
24. 409 detergent
25. cosnocton, OH
26. the metric system
27. debutant (sp?)
28. codfish
29. cubans
30. sausage
31. rubex cube
32. treasure
33. lima bean
34. mars
35. penny
36. firstman's puff
37. shimmy shack
38. tapered jeans
39. needle
40. waffle
41. ocelot
42. Clark Gable
43. breakfast
44. bald spot
45. Toto
46. the woods
47. chainmail
48. the cob (as in, corn on the cob. but in this case, just the cob.)
49. bath water
50. neurologist
LAY yours on me.
ps: nouns rock!!
current mood:  accomplished
current music: pj harveyyy
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| Wednesday, December 17th, 2003
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1:00 am
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tomorrow is tomorrow is tomorrow is shitty poetry. just leave me the fuck alone.
i am gone.
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| Tuesday, October 28th, 2003
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8:10 pm
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As the older of two girls in my family, I have experienced a personal travesty- an unfair, un-chosen family role has provided me with both of the following (in no particular order):
1. A borderline-obsessive drive for perfectionism, and hopelessly intertwined with it, an inhuman craving for achievement and recognition. Because of my father’s academically perfect youth in terms of grade record and personal achievement, it is almost as though my father expected at least ONE of his kids to match his own rigor; obviously, this burdensome apple was to fall the closest to the tree (me, the eldest) rather than further (i.e.: my younger sister). By the time my sister, Erin, reached middle and high school, I had already taken on the role of the highly-motivated, high-attaining, “perfect” daughter for her… she didn’t have to worry about it. This role has, however, caused within me a gravely intense fear of authority under whom I may not be viewed as “perfect” or as one who “highly excels,” resulting in extraordinary panic and sensitivity at authoritative criticisms, even those that others view as constructive or non-personal.
2. An admittedly heightened sense of world importance that approaches pure self-centeredness- rooted, I am convinced, in the fact that the first five years of my life (arguably the most formative in terms of the roles reward and punishment play in identity and personality) were as an only child. Apparently during the first few weeks my younger sister was home from the hospital, I became so distraught by having to share the limelight of the house that, attention-hungry, I would literally just take off at least once every few days, only to be found an hour later behind a tree or in the basement or down the block. This self-absorbed nature, however, has been reinforced over the past few years and grown to wicked proportions, ones that I nickname “finding who I am” and excuse as “focusing on me for a while”. Oh yeah.. and I don’t share well either. I mean.. I am still a good listener. I think…
At least I’ve got that going for me.
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| Monday, October 27th, 2003
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1:04 am
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blue wig.
boy scouts.
short skirt.
oh halloween come and get here now. now now now.
candy corn.
preston. i want you back. you havent left. but i want you back now.
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| Monday, October 20th, 2003
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1:01 am
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but overall, i mean..
yes. im happy.
WHAT.
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1:00 am
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i wonder how i am still alive.
what if my heart gives out. what if i get such a huge caffeine/stress/anxiety induced ulcer that it takes me over completely. i dont sleep. i dont even feel.
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| Wednesday, October 15th, 2003
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10:40 am
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oh yeah.. the DAY its on may be of help.
Friday 17 October
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10:22 am
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6:00-9:00
Exhibition Opening: Imagine That
Work
306 S. State
ps: look for the baked goods and lingerie on the mattress.
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| Tuesday, October 7th, 2003
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12:18 am
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installation for next week's "jurying" at WORK more or less figured out.
checks deposited, fibers final well underway.
new concepts project.. well, ... er.. conceptualized and in the midst of being researched.
bags for nyc in t minus 7 hours. PACKED.
three days of freedom. on the road and in the city. mmmmmm. (sheena take-a sheena take-a-bow) bye ann arbor.
moreover, no class from this evening to next wednesday!!!! good god i love this.
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| Monday, October 6th, 2003
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1:12 am - food is cardboard.
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dear royal highness.
you lead me, (ambilical)
i look at faces in the street
for
you
...
knowing full well and spitefully
that you do not exist
(not in this town) no! not really.
my mind impulsive,
clarity leaves so that i may
fool my numerous selves
into thinking you are
around the bashful bend
until i am over.
wrought iron and some stooge
of sad ironic plagerist,
a faker of love.
this threat;
this distance.
we either pull too-so (not nearly enough)
close
or we run too-so (not nearly enough)
far.
sometimes we do both.
(the stretch marks you leave me with are deep and long.)
but our future furniture will be red, like us,
with such markings of distance and screaming,
we are well past midnight.
we are well past midnight.
we are well
past
midnight.
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| Sunday, October 5th, 2003
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5:26 pm
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Swampy Times and The Media Monster
The media is like a cesspool. While it may be an inherently complex sludge of news coverage, magazine covers, film premieres, and newly-famed cultural “heroes”, the cesspool is also knowing; selective, even. These pop-cultural icons we are bombarded with from birth to death, morning to night, can exist purely because of the fact that they have been a constant background for our collective unconscious and thus, cognitive development, since we were children. Cultural icons, as fed to the youth of America through the ever- incessant, ever-expanding umbilical cord that is today’s media, have the potential for drastic affects on young children’s attitudes towards sex, race, and class.
Think of the tremendous cultural effects that Brittany Spears or the Spice Girls have had on girls in America for the past several years. Hiding behind a facade of some sort of warped, sexually-charged modern-day female empowerment, the late nineties obsession with “girl power”, while it may have put some cutely eye shadowed, lip-sticked icons on the table for young girls to “connect” with and emulate, is for those same reasons re-instilling the notion that grown women, unlike their male counterparts in society, must reveal more than intellect and character to attain any level of respect. How ironic it is that “girl power” is truly anything but.
Even more aimed at children are the cultural icons that are not even human- coming in the forms of animation in children’s films and video games. Resulting in continually reiterated images of physical perfection for young girls along with super-heroically hardened bodies for young boys, the ideals of the body are enunciated clearly from an increasingly early age, in ways that we as adults may not even catch. This emphasis on physical “correctness” in terms of body shape, and how much body is revealed, seems to not only forget but, perhaps also erase any notion of sexual responsibility in pop culture.
One may also think of the collective “media” as one monstrous cultural icon in itself- an American monster, hiding under the beds of an impressionable youth culture ready to swallow anything it feeds them. In terms of the media’s influence on racial attitudes of children, one cannot ignore the current war-driven political throes in which the United States lies. News coverage of Afghanistan and Iraq have left an impressionable mark on our racially-concious adult foreheads- but what about the children who watch or hear or read the news with us? One truly wonders whether the excess of finger-pointing at potential “terrorists” by the adults on television (or even their own parents... or their President!) is to have any lasting affect on children growing up now. Will they be even more likely than their parents to think twice about the presence of a middle eastern man on an airplane?
On television, in the music world, and always in hollywood, the intensity with which praises of wealth and bountiful things are sung seems at an all-time high. Right when a child is searching out and establishing their own interests and individual personalities, are they not also becoming more aware of, and being increasingly more immersed into, the cultural environment that surrounds them? It seems to me a dangerous characteristic of being a child in America today that two such intense realizations collide. How could the combined effect of a cultural fixation on wealth and fame coupled with growing up not produce some sort of skewed vision of “values”? Thanks to these icons, will children soon want to become doctors not for the gratification of saving a life, but for the gratification of a big wallet?
What we are swimming in as an ever-progressing technological society seems wrought with ill potential for our future generations. The rate at which our icons are spinning, one wonders whether attitudes toward sex, race, or social class soon be completely shaped by the media monster by the time our children are adults.
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| Saturday, October 4th, 2003
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3:22 am
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sincerity:
\Sin*cer"i*ty\, n. [L. sinceritas: cf. F. sinc['e]rit['e].] The quality or state of being sincere; honesty of mind or intention; freedom from simulation, hypocrisy, disguise, or false pretense; sincereness.
I protest, in the sincerity of love. --Shak.
Sincerity is a duty no less plain than important. --Knox.
but how do you know you are sincere in the long term. how do you know its not just in the moment? how do you know what you really mean and want if its so rapidly and sometimes vapdily changing? whims fancy dresses and wants instead of needs plea so strong so strong so strong dear that before tomorrow dear i am gone from my formal former pedestal.
i do not mean what i say except when i say it.
sincerity
n 1: an earnest and sincere feeling [syn: earnestness, seriousness] 2: the quality of being open and truthful; not deceitful or hypocritical; "his sincerity inspired belief"; "they demanded some proof of my sincerity" [ant: insincerity] 3: a quality of naturalness and simplicity; "the simple sincerity of folk songs" [syn: unassumingness] 4: the trait of being serious; "a lack of solemnity is not necessarily a lack of seriousness"- Robert Rice [syn: seriousness, earnestness, serious-mindedness] [ant: frivolity]
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| Wednesday, October 1st, 2003
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12:12 am
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i am traveling to new york city in one week.
i need it, the change.
because i want to not just plug along like i have been. where is my love?
i am lone wolf like and thoughtless
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| Tuesday, September 23rd, 2003
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10:25 pm - down the hatch
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first gratifying artwork of the school year complete.
three in a row late nights at the art school and its only week two??
but i felt good afterwards. thats for sure.
i am but i only do and dont just be. so then.. am i?
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| Sunday, September 21st, 2003
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12:59 am
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You are not beautiful, exactly.
You are beautiful, inexactly.
istrain.
i strain.
eyes and straining
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| Wednesday, September 17th, 2003
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12:51 am
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routine is the comfort of small children and many adults.
i hate walking the same steps so many times.
i truly loathe the box of rituals i have constructed.
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| Monday, September 15th, 2003
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11:45 pm - as you dream
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i find myself constantly searching the end. i want to like this ride. i want to like this dance.
i want to stop looking for the fucking emerald city
current mood:  awake
current music: that nin song by the man who died
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11:39 pm
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its been me, scumming my trash bags
its been me, fat with just bones
its been me, i have not the time for you
until i die i am just this tar and sticky tacky ludicrous structure
black coffee for one
i would like to feel whole.
you dont fill me. my tank has this leak or something.
walking, walking walking walking.
at least i have alchohol and fire balls to keep me going- amazing, you are.
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