Grrrl Style

Happy Moroccan Wednesday

2010-01-06T13:59:00.000-08:00

It is Morrocan Wednesday. This means that within the next few hours, I will be chowing down to some yummy yummy food.

Until then: be still my beating heart.

These Tom Ford frames are balllllliiiinnn' .

You may be sold out here, but i shall find you. In the depths of the amazon, you will be mine.

Am I just a sucker for anything that is described as "Havana"? Yes. But that is beside the point.

waiting for the twitch to text

2010-01-05T16:01:00.000-08:00

It seems all i do these days is wait for people to call me. I know they're going to call me. I know what's going to happen as a result of the call, and yet i still must wait. sigh.

In the meantime, i'll just ogle this blackbird jacket and this armenian bride.

What are YOU doing with your tuesday night?

Waiting for Hasbrouck to call.

2010-01-02T12:03:00.001-08:00

Even if I had 900$ to spare, I probably wouldn't buy this bag.

Just because i'd probably save it toward a trip to Tahiti

But if this bag was like, 50 $,I totally would.

In other news, HASBROUCK THE THIRD CALL ME LET'S GO

Happy New Year.

2010-01-01T19:20:00.000-08:00

"You can't be this worldly! It's the 80's!!"

WHERES MY FIGGY PUDDING?

2009-12-24T20:35:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas ya'll. I dug this up for you. Yes, my hair was in pigtails.

wishing you warm flannel and at least one thing from your christmas list. like that red ryder BB gun.

Comfy, Chic, and Tamagotchi friendly.

2009-12-15T22:23:00.000-08:00

I'm really tired and should go to bed.

But I'm not! I'm here. For you. Now look at these sweet clothes.

Yummy knit hat ("slouchy beanie") from Urban Outfitters. So many different styles always so slouchy.

True, with the wrong hat, some angles will make you look like your head is misshapen. But i've seen these on enough girls to know that this doesn't have to be the case.

Just make sure you try it on in person; other than that it's just one of those pieces you have to wear with confidence, and you too can rock the over-sized knit hat of joy:

I have a shirt like this one from Blackbird except it's red and white striped and not nearly as cool. I wore it as my halloween costume being: "one of those characters in where's Waldo who you think is Waldo but isn't actually" not many people liked it but I think they were just sour because when they asked if i was Waldo I could say NOPE KEEP LOOKING.

This one's particularly nice because of the little pocket. Think of all the things you could store in it!

I love fuzzy bootie Ugg alternatives. Especially wooly ones with woody buttons from 80%20.

Coming Soon: Hot chocolate inspired clothes. Or something.

2009-12-15T15:46:00.000-08:00

Last night I made a tick on my arm every time I took a shot. You know, to keep track.

I woke up this afternoon on my floor using a cardigan for a blanket. My arm looked like this:

That's when I realized I wasn't hung-over, I was still drunk.

Now all I want to do is blog about fashion

but I have to write a silly ten page paper about my subjected Cuban people. What? yeah.

::Addendum::

Dear Marc Jacobs, I love you. Love, Perica

Variations on a theme

2009-12-13T15:50:00.001-08:00

This following post was brought to you by her

(but mostly me)

Soundtrack:

So I really want a bomber jacket because I'm more than a little obsessed with Amelia Earhart. And then I saw this pin-up bomber jacket. You know, for the sexy pilot in you.

Element flannel--because as long as this trend lasts, we're going to run with it. Screw stereotypes, we queers fuckin' invented flannel (not really, but like I said, let's run wit it).

Corduroy pants are wonderful. Ecspecially when they're from Land's End and come in abajillion oh-so-many wonderful colors.

Frye boots for Christmakwanzakah? Please?

Varsity Jackets. I saw a seriously cute girl riding her bike wearing a red varsity baseball jacket the other day. It was sick.

Picture sweater from Blackbird

Jcrew shoes that will never come in my size but maybe they'll come in yours. Either way, they're magnificent.

How to get laid: a 6 step style guide.

2009-12-12T14:46:00.001-08:00

Soundtrack:

Sidenote: Dear Carla Bruni, please break up with the president of France and love me instead. That is all.

Oh yeah, and then there's this:

Step 1. Buy a really hot gender bending vest.

Which can be found here.

Why should I click on this link, you ask?

THAT'S WHY.

Okay, Step 2. Get a loved one to buy you a pocket watch for bastille day or something.

Pocket watches are great because they are the equivalent of walking around with a shirt that says:

"Fuck me" only they're a lot more classy and effective.

Step 3. Find a rusty/old key in your local secret garden and put some string/chain on it. Then put it around your neck.

When someone asks you what it's a key to, please have something creative/snarky prepared to say.

Ex: "It's the key to __________ chastity belt." This is good one because it's so versatile. You can either

name someone hot, or if they're being a toolface, you can just say "your momma's".

Step 4. Do something horrible to a pair of jeans. See what happens when you role around on a tarp full of tea

while using them as an ashtray for your blunt and then use them as a rope to get over a barbed-wire fence.

Or, you know, buy them ripped.

Step 5. Buy some sweet tweed kicks.

Step 6. Thank me later

If you give a mouse a cookie, he'll get increasingly distracted by clothes. or something.

2009-12-10T07:50:00.000-08:00

Soundtrack to the following post:

So recently i've been thinking about last christmas and what I had asked for because I have no idea what I want THIS christmas. And then I remembered:

Man oh man did I want this Marc by Marc Jacobs t-shirt. It just combined so many things I loved. Mostly because it was electric-colored and because the money would've gone to a good cause and because, you know, the whole Helena-Christensen-in-nothing-but-a-sweet-hat, thing. But somehow it just didn't work out. Probably because it was real expensive on ebay and my sister was like: "wouldn't you want a shirt of a naked guy instead?" and I was like NO I WOULDN'T THANK YOU VERY MUCH. But yeah.

It reminded me of my other love that never came

to pass:

They just don't make shoes like these for chicas.

and I certainly can't fit into a men's size 10. You know, being the small little cuban cracker that I am and all.

Anyway, I was never TOO sour about not receiving

that sweet t-shirt in my stocking because recently I found

this:

Unfortunately my friend Ericka was too busy jerking in MY JEANS AND MY SHIRT, to properly turn toward the camera but I assume you get the picture (lolz?). It's a really sweet electric blue shirt with a scantily clad chica having herself a grand ol' time.

It occuredto me if some design company made this awesome shirt maybe there'd be more love to go around.

The only label I found on it, however, was "grn" and when you type this into google they're like: "oh you youngin's and your silly hipster slang, I know you meant GREEN" and it refused to believe me that i meant grn and not green even when I put it in " " which is supposed to mean it's sacred or something. Anyways, I finally got more creative in my search engine searchings and long story short:

Yeah I guess these are supposed to be for men, go figure, but hey all I see is some sweet original grrl power designs that, you know, make cute girls do a double take when I pass them soooo win win.

Especially when I wear this hat:

Which is this hat:

(GIRL Skateboards 59Fifty Flat Peak)

Except mine is two-toned and more electricfied and such. You should all get one. And yes. I am jerking in that photo too. It's really all we ever do in this apartment. Really.

Cherry cherry boom boom...

2009-11-25T20:42:00.001-08:00

I'm gaga over this dress.

Too bad it's been sold already! Anyway, if you like crazy custom stuff and people who are trying to start their own collections and brands, click here.

Other fun stuff: vintage turtle-neck knit sweater from Shopcuffs.

Please feel free to wear it with pants, though I am partial to the leggings and shorts for aesthetics, pants just seem to make more sense, uh, thermally.

Also, i've been thinking about my saddle shoe days. I'm hoping for a return of the saddle shoe, which I think will be a lot easier now that fresh saddle shoe inspired styles such as these from The-Glade are on the market.

Wooooot. There's nothing else I can say. Ehhh Ehhhh.

my feet are freezing.

2009-11-23T09:24:00.000-08:00

Hey. I know you've always wanted to rock a classic blue blazer. Don't even pretend you haven't. Fine, pretend, but being bitter about it isn't going to help. Yeah, I know that "lady" blazers can be really weird and men's blazers are wayyy to big and you can't think of even going vintage because they'll probably be weird AND have ridiculous shoulder pads. Unless you're into that). But there's hope. I assure you. If you're like me, you want a school boy blazer. Except you probably don't know any school boys you can beat up /haggle for theirs. SO. I present to you the secret of getting the most perfect classic blazer ever.

First, go into Brooks Brothers and ignore all the sideways glances you'll receive from the customers /lady who will ask if she can help you because OBVIOUSLY you meant to walk into the toy store across the way and she's going to take it upon herself to be the one to break it to you that there are, in fact, no bubbles and hoola hoops here. Damn. Well, there's no turning back, so you might as well look around, right? Go over to the little boy section and find the "Hefty XL" size or whatever in whichever style you like.

Put it on and hear the angels rejoice. Then sell your arm and maybe your leg to buy it.

Or, you know, buy this slightly cheaper one from J. Crew and embrace the manufactured feminine shape. Yes, you should probably roll up your sleeves to.

Then outfit it.

Probably with your favorite scarf, possibly from A Peace Treaty, because, you know, who doesn't love those?

I also suggest cray cray (cray cray= crazy) jeans from Cheap Monday that I probably can't fit into but, hey, maybe you can!

and then, you know, party like a rockstar per usu.or whatever it is you do.

the pagemaster.

2009-11-21T15:57:00.000-08:00

the decent into madness is not a decent. it's a zig-zagged wommple fromp that looks straight in dimension 4, perpendicular to destiny in dimension 7 or 12, and that moves to the sound of a wrinkle on your grandma's forehead when she smiles always. So, to re-cap.

You ---(zigzagwommplefrompD4straightD7/12destiny+perpendicular*motion*wrinklegrandmaforehead)

---Madness

I am going to write a book entitled: "Insanity". It will chronicle some things. It will make lots of sense and little sense. Maybe it will be funny. In the foreword, amongst other things, "things", it will say: "...part of the reason i wrote this book was so that i could say: 'i wrote the book on insanity' and not be a liar. Which i feel would be a nice change." Yes, i'm not planning on capitalizing my "i's"... at least some of them. Probably yes. Also, I may or may not have a chapter dedicated to pesto. It will definitely include a recipe. Once I learn how to cook. Or do anything. Is the glass half full? Is the glass half empty? What glass? I only see a cup. There will be no black beans and rice for thanksgiving. le sigh.

----------------------

Today, the prisoner began his emotional breakdown for real. His silence was the loudest thing in the room, at least to the ego-muse. And so when he left she followed. She found him de-robing on the balcony, his bare-feet dangling from the side; he wanted nothing more than to embrace every gust of december air so he stretched his naked limbs to the sky and suppressed every shiver. or maybe he really couldn't feel the biting cold. He was being burnt alive inside. The he asked the ego-muse for something prescriptive. Anything she had. "Only if you come inside". He felt that was a fair trade...assuming he could feel anything at this point. So back inside they went and as he rustled through the bag of medicine in search of something hard to swallow the synthesizer added her words of wisdom: "it won't help".

And then he swallowed. The twitch sat concernedly, the first time in a long time he wasn't thinking of himself. "Would you rather feel a lot of pain or nothing at all?" he asked the twitch. The twitch didn't know what to say. "This is the most beautiful breakdown i've ever seen" Thought the ego-muse.

Last night I couldn't sleep because I was too fascinated with the idea of life as a hierarchy of mazes.

Mùm - If I Were A Fish / A Take Away Show from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

a meditation on beautiful

2009-11-16T20:36:00.001-08:00

The prisoner crushed up the remainder of his percocet and, listening to a gritty calypso that encapsulated the gritty white mess in front of him, cut and snorted five neat lines of his medicine. He grabbed a paint marker and wrote "expectation = history" on the kitchen table and spent much of the night trying to figure out what that meant, pretending not to notice as the ego-muse stole the homeless key that had been nailed above the sink. What she was to do with it, he did not know. What the ego-muse was going to do with it was wear it. So that the rust could brush up against her skin and in so doing remind her what a life-altering disappointment reality continued to be. This key used to have a purpose, she thought, now it was covered in crust, it's solidarity and uselessness displayed above the dishes drowning in their own sink-water.

Little sister, twin sister

2009-11-14T21:03:00.000-08:00

Today the prisoner juggled, or at least tried. He wanted to learn; he was looking for greener pastures. He ran barefoot in the rain and skipped from the room, but he always came back. The ego-muse was glad for this. Any company, really. His Leslie was on the phone, communicating. The ego-muse was listening to an Indian sing a powerful chant--if not powerful, than fitting. She was not sure what to do with this new possible love interest, outside of compiling for her these chants. This new possible everything. Leslie came in and grabbed the prisoner's face: "I need to pluck you" she said; they wandered out, following the promise of coffee and cigarettes,

the prisoner probably still looking for greener pastures. Greener anything. Probably yes.

Fidelity will always be the jam to end all jams.

As comforting as Usdan eggs or a childhood friend's fridge filled with high-c.

8th day of the week

2009-11-13T21:37:00.000-08:00

The prisoner placed three carrots in his shirt pocket. Orange plaid on a strawberry blonde. He snacked contentedly. The ego-muse watched. Watched the twitch caress his volley's leg. The ego-muse turned back to the stale story, not minding, she was lost in a daydream. Or what she had discovered to be a different dimension. Daydreaming, she concluded, is actually dimension jumping. If you give yourself fully to your delusions, thought the ego-muse, it means you are truly living them. That is your life as much as this is your life; just in another dimension. Though the ego-muse herself found this theory a bit unstable, there was no one who could prove to her otherwise, and thus it might as well be a fact. Twitch twitched, he watched the prisoner collapse his head into his lap, all carrots having been consumed. Worried, the twitch reached a finger across the ego-muse to the synthesizer. He motioned his concern. The synthesizer, per usual, shrugged. This was all the reassurance twitch needed, and he turned back to his volley.

-------------

The stale story has been played. Now the group of odd couple-esque inventors are left to their own devices. Their dharma and their auras all fitting and rolling together like waves filling a fish tank or like any Howard Hawks feature. The twitch begins to toss raisins, aiming at his volley's open mouth. Soon they're all trying to do it. Leslie asks if the prisoner has put raisins in her hair. A raisin fight ensues. The prisoner takes aim at all, he feels no mercy. In the kitchen, goofy tries to get a piece of toast out of the toaster with a knife. The housewife, finding goofy has left the door ajar, escapes from his room; bouncing in her cha-cha dress, she hides behind a wall hanging of Ganesh. "Wowie wowie" says the prisoner in response to this. He has been slapping his knee silly tonight. The housewife has had far too many cosmos. She giggles behind the curtain, giving away her position. Goofy comes to sweep her off her feet and carry her back to bed. The ego-muse lies on the floor, tracing her henna. Nobody in the room including the ego-muse can figure out where her mind is.

The Scene Changes, Screamin' Jay Hawkins Remains

2009-11-12T21:06:00.000-08:00

"Remember this picture of me:"

Fohawk hair, patterns on my hands--a reaction from the henna--compulsion.

We will risk our health to be this way; yes, it's true. The proof is in your lying smile, and the one person in the room who will cover your back. Who knows your difficult situation but tries just as hard as you do to hide it from the others, for your sake. I assist in the damage of yourself, but aid in the projection.

"Her proudest moment:"

When she learned the spelling of 'anonymous' by closing her eyes and visualizing it.

"She hid her thoughts in quotes, so that if anything seemed too foreign, anything seemed too real, it would only be the thoughts of some anonymous writer. Not of the girl they thought they knew."

Why did I stop posting after Tuesday, April 14, 2009 ?

I wonder what started going right. Or wrong.

Do it.

"Dogs -->Humans-->Angels"

2009-11-11T20:27:00.000-08:00

He pushes back his chair to the middle of the kitchen floor and stares at the table once surrounded by his friends. Now sat a panel of judges. He feels trapped, he orders: "Stop peering into my soul! All of you!" They held positions of power. "Which one will send me to eternal damnation?" he thinks. Then he re-thinks. "This is like that painting of the dogs playing cards around a poker table!" yells the now-bound prisoner. He puts his wrists together behind his chair. Tilts back his head in despair--his lanky body a stem in the spotlight. He envisions basement interrogation. For they were, interrogating him. They laugh, he is obviously out of his mind. They think: "We just went from being fates to dogs around a poker table...maybe he's had too much". He knew better. The prisoner continues to yell: "And the dogs in that painting,they're sitting up. So the first thing you think when you see that picture is: 'That's an impossibility! Dogs can't do that'. And you observe them in this habitat, with these cards. It's just like with humans." They watch the prisoner struggle before them--in his words, in his actions. "All of this because we told him maybe his severe cramps was from his alcohol consumption and not a lactose sensitivity" they think. Let's remember, after all, that hangover that lasted for two weeks. They think: "He should be worrying about his liver; not of our soul searching abilities, not of our impossibilities". But they are curious. They can recall the painting of the dogs. They interrogate: "What about humans?" He answers: "Dogs to humans. Humans..to..angels." He suddenly can't remember how he got to this conclusion in the first place. His phone starts to ring. He unbinds his hands to reach for it. It's Leslie. He looks at his friends for help. For now they are his friends again. "What do I do?" he says. They look at him sympathetically, trying to provide moral support. "Pick it up!" they say. "What should he do?", they think. One turns to the others: "He should tell the truth". Another nods. He overhears, he looks up. Is that what he should do? The one turns to the other and says: "We are like the conscious in his soul, aren't we?" Another laughs. They leave the room. He bows his head. He is left alone with the voice on the other end, far away from angels.

All my movie titles will be analogical of the plot. "Dogs to Humans, Humans to Angels" "Apples and Wildebeests; Apples and France"

Also,

and

relatively.

"So i'm not going to tell you the story because you know the story. I'm just going to tell you the moral". A moment of silence. "Well see it was two weeks ago..." he stops and apologizes, "it seems the moral is the story".

Hygemony, Cartoons, Exploration

2009-11-10T09:52:00.000-08:00

Welcome Home.

Imagine you had the song "Exploration" in your head constantly on repeat as played by the Hungarian Symphony Orchestra,

and although you don't know French you sing it aloud as if you did, attracting "sideways" glances from the leaf blowers in your yard because really your headphones are around your neck and you're muttering gibberish; then imagine waking up everyday and discovering a new definition of "going crazy", such that when you tell people "I'm going crazy" you mean: last week I was convinced the shadows in my room were playing the 3rd movement of Mozart's 4th Horn Concerto. This weekend I played a game of chess against myself and lost. Yesterday I decided to write a ethnography, or a novel, or both, about my life in this niche of queer hipsters--because if I don't, no one else will. Last night, I didn't go to class, but instead stood between a graveyard and a collapsing barn and dared myself to go further. I didn't. And today I can't stay awake because I just don't care enough; nothing out there (motions around frantically to the world) is interesting enough. Now imagine no one cares. Welcome to my November.

Last night, after turning from the graveyard, Rory and I started to watch "The Great Mouse Detective". I started to explain to him how remarkable it is we take for granted these cartoons. Because, yes, they're just silly cartoons, and we all hear about the sexual things slipped in that we never actually notice and blah blah blah it's racist sexist prejudiced really just wrong in every way. However, I feel like we get side tracked in what's really important here. How this generation (motions around to me, to Jared in the kitchen, to Rory in his room) first learned about ANYTHING was through these colorful lines running around on our VHSes even all that bad stuff. For instance, the first time I heard about this thing called World War I was not in some history class, it was here:

So, okay, there's this war thing and some how the French were involved. Or something.

Later in life, though still younger than I should have been (my parents were crazy, yes)

I saw the South Park movie in theaters and again, before I knew anything about the World Wars

I see this French character all disheveled helping this American kid and sneaking their way across a

war-zone...something something viva le resistance...when I finally do learn that there was such a thing as

World War I academically I already had some kind of notion that the French would be involved, that their country

was a mess, that there was resistance and confusion and...man, I could write a whole dissertation on

childhood cartoons and the foundations they laid for us. We understand the world today through a lot of different

means yes, but they were the first. No matter if they were this that or the other thing, in our cannon

of knowledge, these moving lines were our first exposure to what life (is? was? could be?) like.

Because sometimes it needs to be reaffirmed.

2009-06-12T10:44:00.000-07:00

What It's Like to be a Cuban Girl

It's like being born with spices in your blood
And being named after your papi's favorite cigars
It's getting diamonds pierced in your ears at five days
Wearing Royal Violets perfume every day until age 15,
And throwing a fifteenth birthday party
That costs your parents more than your first car

It's loving Martí and hating Castro
Lighting candles at Mass for La Caridad and Celia Cruz
It's having to kiss every Cuban cheek like you're related
It's looking European, but feeling Caribbean
And seething inside while smiling politely
When someone asks if you're Puerto Rican

It's having black beans and plantains with every meal
Meals at every party, parties for any occasion
It's serving your skinny uncle piles of lechón on Nochebuena
While your three hundred pound aunt sips at a mojito
It's learning to dance merengue from your papi or your abuelito
And knowing the difference between a guajira and a guaracha

It's loving the hot, humid air of Miami and hating hurricanes
Drinking cortaditos and dealing with chaperona
It's talking too fast in English and running your words together
in Spanish It's being born and raised in a free country

And being madly in love
With a restless island you've never even seen......

drunk on a glass of buttermilk

2009-04-14T18:40:00.000-07:00

What an absolutely ridiculous couple of weeks. I knew there was a reason I quit theatre; and yet it seems drama can never be truly circumvented. Ah well, no use worrying about it then.

I'm trying to think of what note worthy films I've watched of late.

Of course the first thing that comes to mind is Ball of Fire

And while we're on the subject of of Barbara Stanwyck:

In fact it was this movie that inspired me to beat it home for Easter and surprise MoMa with unconditional love and an Easter egg hunt. Maybe it was just the weariness of the week or the gradual weakening of my over-critical senses to melodrama but Stella Dallas in all its corny glory had me, i'll admit, teary-eyed. Either way it was a lovely weekend with the Pepps and the Buffs and the MoMa. Not much else to say, I guess. Pre-registration, GRS, and Wesfest this weekend should keep me busy. . .

Oh, and swimming? It pwns. Sure all the negative attributes of the activity are still there, (with the exception of the swim-cap. They're not required, hallelujah) but the feel-good after effects are so worth it. (I guess that's why people do sports?) Anyway it's my new personal spliff.

Adult Swim

2009-03-22T19:32:00.000-07:00

There are few things I'm dreading more than starting swimming tomorrow. My final film exam, the next time I get stung by a bee, the next time in my life I get the stomach flu, the day i'll meet my inevitable end...

Seriously though, what the hell was I thinking? Those beyond unflattering one piece bathing suits, those absurd googles that make your head and eyes hurt, those swim caps that pull at your hair and make you look like an extraterrestrial, the water that gets stuck in your ears on kick turns only to be logged there until extracted by way of some ridiculous hopping-on-one-foot-hitting-the-side-of-your-head-dance, and oh yeah, the physical exertion far beyond that which my body is capable of. ugh ugh ugh

I really hope I'll come back from it saying "that wasn't so bad!" but i seriously doubt it. I swim in the ocean. Not in chlorine pools i am always sure a slew of kids have peed in.

"Don't worry"

2009-03-20T11:41:00.000-07:00

I'm back in the United States. Of America. Not of Arabia. I'm pretty sure i still have both my kidneys. Romania was...desoloute.

Juan and i expressed our amazement that such a happy song as Numa Numa (Nu ma: "no more") came from such a depressing land as we watched big brown bears formerly owned by gypsies beg in their cages for stale popcorn, cheetohs, or anything that wasn't the heap of tomatoes they were being fed. Juan was restless in this "land of demantors" and was excited when it was time for us to move on to Italy.

On the train to Rome, we had chocolate and the harry potter parallels continued as we were feeling much better in the warmth of a European spring. We did a lot of religious things with his family and their friends who we met up with. I heard the pope talk about going to Africa. and then he did, as we saw in the newspapers a few days later. it was exciting. The days were packed and more than once i was sure my feet wouldn't make it up the steps of the hostel to our bedroom they were so sore from tracing history.

Now i'm home but my bag, i think, is still in London. It was supposed to come today but something tells me it won't. Apparently it didn't make it onto the Air India flight I had connected on to. Figures. Luggage and anything even remotely related to India just don't mix. At all. I hope I get my laptop back soon, though. I have more work than I can even possibly imagine completeing on time had I started 4 days ago, nevermind now without the proper means to do so.

Save the Daylight !

2009-03-07T21:03:00.000-08:00

Spring forward!

I hate springing forward.

Today I got my haircut.

Then Hasbrouck came over. We wandered around the arboretum, finally coming to rest on a log halfway up the hillside. We said some ridiculous things. We took turns playing my banjo. Hasbrouck was amazed by a tree with many "eyes". He said he was reminded of the god Apollo. It was picturesque and unusually warm.

"today this dark ice will melt
as orange brightens to yellow
& tonight it will freeze again"

-Denis Dunn, '@6 13 march morning'

We fell asleep in his car listening to PLJ. We were happy to be nappy and did so for about half an hour. When I got home MoMa and I watched an Audrey Tautou movie.

It's pretty great to be home; I need to pack for Romania.

Someone put Great Lake Swimmers on the hub, please.

2009-03-04T07:28:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a great day. Inspite the freakin' cold, that is. In anthropology we watched:

Great way to spend the morning. Pondering purchasing.

After lunch in Roth's class we watched:

The Green Room, a late Truffaut. Reverent, gothic; reminded me of The Loved One sans the comedy.

That night:

35 mm print you ask? Why, yes it was. Pwns my criterion version, for sure.

And yet at the end of this day of just eating and watching, i was debiliattingly tired. Unfortunately,due to an impromptu rendezvous with a milkway bar and an equally impromptu yet surprisingly serious attempt to hang my hammock somewhere in the building, I did not get to bed until far past "then" .

Being a child

2009-02-12T10:50:00.000-08:00

Today Jared and I got into a fight. Hopefully meditation later will calm me. Yesterday was a much better day. One of my favorites.

It was ridiculously warm and sunny. I talked to Prof. Basinger who is actually the nicest woman in the world and who genuinely wants to help kids with their film aspirations. I called my mother's cousin (my cousin?) about a job at her summer camp teaching the boys (girls only do theatre?) filmmaking. I went to the farmer's market with Shane and ate delicious roast beef sandwiches with 60% of our posse who all seemingly had the same idea. I went dumpster diving with Ericka in a bin that only contained books and found a 1945 guide to South America complete with complementary map. We found the boat(s) by the science library that sit on campus for no apparent reason as well as a tennis ball. We talked to a smattering of friends and acquaintances and stood outside soaking in the warm weather. I sat outside on my balcony and played my banjo. I danced around in my room. There was vegan coconut ice cream at dinner. I Went to Toy Story 2 with Shane and we explored the art tunnels after. Talked to my mom about my spring break plans to go to Romania and Rome with Juan. Then me and Shane and Sam watched A Goofy Movie with popcorn and blueberry banana bread.

Some of these events are out of order; none of them were under-appreciated.

November 19th and all is well

2008-11-19T08:00:00.000-08:00

So I completely forgot I had a blog. I'm going to try to update it more. Why? No reason. A semi-literary mode of procrastination I guess. Might as well jump right in.

I found a bracelet in the grass yesterday that reads: ' Just say "Merry Christmas" ' I think it's one of the better things i've encountered on the ground in a long time. It prompted a conversation over dinner about ones favorite childhood christmas movies. I was the only one keen on The Year Without a Santa Claus. And who had an acute memory of Burgermeister Meisterburger.

Pre-registration ended and, alas, yet again I find myself on the short end of the stick. I'm currently only signed up for two classes when I signed up to take five. Hmph. Hopefully I'll be able to work that out soon. I have to admit, the prospect of learning to play the banjo kinda makes everything better.

Giorgos came over for my Archaeology notes on the lectures he had missed. Though I expressly warned him to stay away from the copious amount of non-note material thrown in on said pages, he still proceeded to read the list I had compiled one particularly stomach-grumbling class when I wrote down everything I wanted to pack in a picnic basket.

After that I started filling out an application to become a CE Ambassador. If I can swing it, I may be able to earn some money and discounts on travel--both which I desperately need. We'll see.

Shane came over after he finished rock climbing and read to me the rest of the article on John Ford's legacy in westerners I was struggling with. We made hot chocolate in borrowed mugs hoping the chocolate chip cookies we dropped in them would dissolve into a hot cup of deliciousness. Which it more or less did. We decided to watch Forrest Gump which I've never seen before. Shane began to fall asleep though so we had to stop it with the promise to finish it another day.

I awoke early this morning and instead of rolling over to catch another 2-3 hours of sleep I actually got up. No clue as to why. That's all for now. I need to go to film class and then pick up the c.d. my mythology professor made for me...what? Tonight I plan to skip KINO and go see Annie Hall which is playing on the film series. After that, Melanie invited me to Orquestra Fiebre, a salsa dance party. Should be a fun night, to say the least.

2008-03-11T16:27:00.000-07:00

I have found my issue! Or rather, a large amount of nature footage that I can exploit in a film about global warming and the environment. Also to be used to my advantage--bilingual friends. We shall see how this goes.

Spring break is here and on the itinerary are such events as: Stephie's birthday in NYC, Jose's birthday in Atlantic City, and Easter in Pittsburgh. Haven't done much since the onset of freedom; SSB midnight launch party, fruitful trip to the bookstore, running with stephie, and sending in my application to go to India :-)

Its wonderful to think I will be spending my senior project here:

...OM Shanti shanti shanti

2008-02-26T19:31:00.000-08:00

Why WAS that entire passage written in French? A collective sigh but mine was just for show; I was actually feeling rather analytical (I was actually more interested in the character BOY, but I couldn't say anything insightful about him, so I let him be). Anyway I got the right answer. All 3 of them. That, I guess, was the highlight of my day.

Oh, also, I mistook a Quaker Oatmeal commercial for an eHarmony advertisement. It's the couple gag. The "togetherness". Apparently it can be applied to more than just match-making technology. Apparently it can be applied to oats. I've learned something, I'm sure.

As a side note, if anyone sees these babies, size 5-ish, let me know.