After discussing the small explosion, at times square and uneccessary violence like
political terrorism
robyn: people don't know how to deal with ther emotions
11:40 AM
robyn: OO most importantly i saw williem defoe this morning his eyes are firce
11:45 AM
maria: holy shit
Showing posts with label room mate. Show all posts
Showing posts with label room mate. Show all posts
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Friday, July 13, 2007
I'm about to tell you how i won the war
i don't know where to start.
that is what took me so long to start doing this more than anything...the knowing where to start.
I am not going to introduce myself.
The is happening because I am reminded frequently by my roommate that I should start writing again. In some way. I do not think I am much good at it these days. I retired young because I suffered some sort of emotional burnout that I haven't found a replacement fuse for. I tell/told myself it's because I have been fairly happy...and that an artist needs pain to create anything worthy. I tell myself a lot of nonsense.
My father sometimes asks me "are you still writing?". "yep". I write a ton purchase orders and I was very controversial on Craig's List Rants & Raves in 2006.
Part of the problem is not having the time to write - the other part is not having the privacy to write. There are constant distractions and I am constantly explaining to someone what i am doing. Writing on the subway is impossible. I hardly score a seat and if I do I put on my ipod and read just to ignore everything around me. I even try to think about this type of stuff at the laundrymat and when i am just about onto something....someone asks me if I am using the dryer I am standing infront of dazing off into space.
And just like that. I lose it. I go back to counting quarters.
The last poem I write was titled "Really" and was published in 1999. I can no longer find it in my papers - online - etc. i am trying to locate it on 3 1/2 floppies and apparently floppy disks make your computer crash now. Well....it is 2007. I am trying to remember just one line and it escapes me. Completely. I wrote it under a pen name. A pseudonym. I do not remember that now either. But for some reason I think if i find it I can have a reference point....a place to pick up from. Or to see how good or how bad I really was.
Long ago, I (co) wrote a sonnet for each character of the movie "Children of the Corn". Ok, They were more like lymerics. Even the dog, Sarge. I can rememebr that. Amazing. I wrote a poem in high school during a writing festival. I had to pick a word out of a hat or a bag and I picked the word "Sock" and write a poem in 3 minutes. I won. (last 3 lines: curl me up inside a ball. i wont move. i need you). Hack. I won 75 dollars.I cashed my first check in a check cashing place that day. We all cut the rest of school and ate a really big breakfast. Really big day.
The most intense thing I have ever written has been lost to my lack of motivation and sentiment. Which is a little sad...but all the while there is some reason for it and I cannot pick up where I left off....which is why I never picked up.
distractions call.
but this is a step in some direction.
that is what took me so long to start doing this more than anything...the knowing where to start.
I am not going to introduce myself.
The is happening because I am reminded frequently by my roommate that I should start writing again. In some way. I do not think I am much good at it these days. I retired young because I suffered some sort of emotional burnout that I haven't found a replacement fuse for. I tell/told myself it's because I have been fairly happy...and that an artist needs pain to create anything worthy. I tell myself a lot of nonsense.
My father sometimes asks me "are you still writing?". "yep". I write a ton purchase orders and I was very controversial on Craig's List Rants & Raves in 2006.
Part of the problem is not having the time to write - the other part is not having the privacy to write. There are constant distractions and I am constantly explaining to someone what i am doing. Writing on the subway is impossible. I hardly score a seat and if I do I put on my ipod and read just to ignore everything around me. I even try to think about this type of stuff at the laundrymat and when i am just about onto something....someone asks me if I am using the dryer I am standing infront of dazing off into space.
And just like that. I lose it. I go back to counting quarters.
The last poem I write was titled "Really" and was published in 1999. I can no longer find it in my papers - online - etc. i am trying to locate it on 3 1/2 floppies and apparently floppy disks make your computer crash now. Well....it is 2007. I am trying to remember just one line and it escapes me. Completely. I wrote it under a pen name. A pseudonym. I do not remember that now either. But for some reason I think if i find it I can have a reference point....a place to pick up from. Or to see how good or how bad I really was.
Long ago, I (co) wrote a sonnet for each character of the movie "Children of the Corn". Ok, They were more like lymerics. Even the dog, Sarge. I can rememebr that. Amazing. I wrote a poem in high school during a writing festival. I had to pick a word out of a hat or a bag and I picked the word "Sock" and write a poem in 3 minutes. I won. (last 3 lines: curl me up inside a ball. i wont move. i need you). Hack. I won 75 dollars.I cashed my first check in a check cashing place that day. We all cut the rest of school and ate a really big breakfast. Really big day.
The most intense thing I have ever written has been lost to my lack of motivation and sentiment. Which is a little sad...but all the while there is some reason for it and I cannot pick up where I left off....which is why I never picked up.
distractions call.
but this is a step in some direction.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
thank you note
It's almost Thanksgiving day, and I have tons to be thankful for. Like that I totally kicked school's ass and got two A's. It's official. I have my 1st degree!
This is my Thanksgiving Thank You list:
I would like to thank my roommate. She just gave me some wine and asked me to test taste her creamed spinach. She is dressed like she just stepped out of an asylum(toe socks - you know the socks that look like gloves and a mets headscarf, I think.) I love coming home to her on days like this. We are both in good moods. And will be watching Dexter on bootleg in like 10 minutes.
See my roommate and I have much in common we came full circle. We've also lived together so long that our friendship has changed (but not in a bad way - just as in "I already know all your business, so what should we talk about" sorta way) Now we have Dexter. A new bond over serial killers, alcohol and food has unraveled before our very eyes. I owe her a ton for the past year and change. She really didn't have to put up with me and she did. I won't take back what I said about her choice of evening wear tonite, but I love her.
And lastly:
You didn't think I would forget this guy, did you? TMR41H!
This is my Thanksgiving Thank You list:
I would like to thank my roommate. She just gave me some wine and asked me to test taste her creamed spinach. She is dressed like she just stepped out of an asylum(toe socks - you know the socks that look like gloves and a mets headscarf, I think.) I love coming home to her on days like this. We are both in good moods. And will be watching Dexter on bootleg in like 10 minutes.
See my roommate and I have much in common we came full circle. We've also lived together so long that our friendship has changed (but not in a bad way - just as in "I already know all your business, so what should we talk about" sorta way) Now we have Dexter. A new bond over serial killers, alcohol and food has unraveled before our very eyes. I owe her a ton for the past year and change. She really didn't have to put up with me and she did. I won't take back what I said about her choice of evening wear tonite, but I love her.
And lastly:
You didn't think I would forget this guy, did you? TMR41H!
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