(no subject)

I still hurt. I have a fever. The veins in my foot are more prominent than usual, or the skin is more translucent, or something or other is swollen. I might not go in tomorrow. The usual painkillers haven't helped a bit. I watched Sleepy Hollow (again) earlier and talked to my aunt on the phone.

T. started a ThemeStream page and wanted me to tell everyone to go to it, but I haven't the link at the moment, so. I browsed around some of the poetry sections there and found most of it cringe-inducing, but there were some amazing drawings in the art section... maybe I'm more in awe of things done well that I would like to do well. Not things I do better than some people but not as well as anyone famous. Hm.

I spent a lot of the time I've been online tonight looking at The Empire S.N.A.F.U. Restoration Project, which looks bizarre, to say the least. I'm not even partly through the site. But I read this, which seems particularly couched in the kind of artistic mysterifesto-speak that intrigues me:

EMPIRE S.N.A.F.U. is a place, and a phenomenon.
S.N.A.F.U was a human.
S.N.A.F.U. -the human- named ITself after the phenomenon IT
devoted IT's life to destroying.
EMPIRE S.N.A.F.U. is false transmission on all bandwidths.
EMPIRE S.N.A.F.U. is an ever-propagating lethal banality.
EMPIRE S.N.A.F.U. is CONTROL.
EMPIRE S.N.A.F.U. is a single phenomenon with dual aspects.

I have my theories.

fall

in love with Li-Young Lee, along with me. a slim copy of the city in which i love you hides in the poetry section of a bookstore i am known to haunt. i don't even read poetry anymore, not much in the past few years until a week or so ago. then an attractive title, misshelved, sparked on my peepers and here we are.

This Room and Everything In It

I am letting this room
and everything in it
stand for my ideas about love
and its difficulties.

the city in which i love you

And when, in the city in which I love you,
even my most excellent song goes unanswered,
and I mount the scabbed streets,
the long shouts of avenues,
and tunnel sunken night in search of you...

i think i need to start writing again.

(no subject)

I've been up for a while. Missing class today (though I still might go to the museum later). Woke up later than usual, feeling about as bad as I did yesterday, and actually having to tell my mom, "I am not staying home to do housework; I am not staying home to do anything but get better." bleh. Truthfully I might do some things, but they'll be the things I need to do rather than piddly things she wants me to do. (OK, so I'll do a few "appeasement" things.)

I really want to see those Rauschenberg prints, though...

Talking to a few people on one of my AIM screen names, but I don't think this will last long, since I don't really feel like sitting here. Drinking (decaf) Constant Comment tea. Ho hum.

(no subject)

Hmmm...

I have the house to myself for the day, and no car. I fell asleep around 1130 or so and slept til about 330, no dreams that I can remember, feeling like I only slept ten minutes. It feels so strange to lose hours like that.

I just watched the movie Laura, which is good but predictable, not to mention that you don't have to actually watch the middle half-hour. Vincent Price is in it, 1944... that's before he became the horror daddy. He's a suave loser engaged to the title character, played by Gene Tierney. "I write with a goosequill dipped in venom," says Waldo Lydecker, as played by Clifton Webb. Did they even mention the war? if they did, it was in the parts I missed. Like an alternate universe of the late 1930s and early 1940s. Good stuff.

The other night I picked up Heidegger's Sein und Zeit and couldn't even concentrate on the intro. Dry, dry, dry. Heidegger's fault, or the translator's? It was a trade paperback edition, probably a little of both. I guess I'm sitting out this "reading room" session. I feel like such a failed intellectual manqué.

I'm going to go draw stick figures in endless permutation, and read a fun book on feng shui called Move Your Stuff, Change Your Life. I might also allow myself some green tea, for the purpose of pretending to be awake.

i don't need to sell my soul... i wanna be a-dork ;)

I do not understand why my mother has been home for 90 minutes and spent the majority of that time just standing around in the kitchen. Weird.

I watched the movie Anywhere But Here a little earlier because a long time ago Ragdoll said it reminded her of me and my mother, but the truth is that my mother is not so much of a free spirit as Susan Sarandon's character; tinge that "I wanna be my daughter's buddy" bit with "but she still has to worship the ground I walk on." It did capture, very well, some of the irritation that every little movement of someone you don't live with by choice can cause. Earlier I got frustrated with my mother (as often happens around snacks) because we were eating out of the same bag of Doritos and she would stick her whole hand in, pull out a fist full of chips, and cram a stack in her mouth; I'd take two chips and slowly eat them bite by bite. She does the same with popcorn, M&Ms, whatever. It makes me crazy... it's so greedy and uncouth and unladylike. I thought the movie portrayed that well... the mortification you can go through when your parent misbehaves... isn't dignified, or isn't mature in some respects... misbehaves according to your perspective, anyway.

I'm grasping for words that aren't in my head right now.
I tried to watch The Red Violin but I don't have the concentration... the same with Beau Travail earlier. (Why watch that when I've studied "Billy Budd" half-a-dozen times, sat through the film with Terence Stamp, and don't have any desire to see the same drama reenacted en francais with a shaky-cam? Because it's supposed to be good, and because both were on cable today... today was really a bumper-crop day for good movies on the trusty DirectTV minidish.) I watched a few minutes and turned. Trying to keep up with subtitles wracks my nerves. I can barely handle watching something in my own language lately... foreign films are too exhausting. This puts me in a melancholy mood, makes me feel like slightly less than I am. Hopefully when I feel better my concentration will come back and a foreign film won't feel so overwhelming.

I'm so hot. My temp is a little above 100 deg F. My limbs ache. I think it's almost time to sleep again.