hanging in the corner with my five best friends...

I'm sorry. I just had to.

NYC tomorrow!! Hold onto your livers!!

In honor of Megan:

I think of her whenever I see them... you know them. The people who think that leggings/tights are equivalent to pants. The whole "no flip flops with pants" rule, I still break. However, I stand strongly by "Tights are not pants."

So does this website. So, for you Megan: www.tightsarenotpants.com

Next date with the Boyfriends?

Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah!

Roma-roma-ma!
Ga-ga-ooh-la-la!

So. Confession. I love the Gaga. My sister burned me the album about two weeks ago and it's all I've been listening to. I try to listen to other things. Really I do. On the T, I put my Ipod on shuffle. But I'm constantly searching for one thing.
And there is only one thing that satiates.
The Gaga.

So here's why. Ridiculous.
And the lyrics.

"I want your leather-studded kiss in the sand." - Bad Romance (it's a new one, folks)

"Our hair is perfect
While were all getting shit wrecked" - Beautiful Dirty Rich

"Don't think to much just bust that stick/I want to take a ride on that disco stick" - Love Games (because she rhymes stick with stick... did you get that?)

On a certain level, I guess I can relate. I don't want no Paper Gangsta either. I too wonder how my shirt got turned inside out. However, PANTS MY FRIEND. Pants. I like them too much to be a true Gaga follower. Gots to wear my pants. And my hair not in a hair bow (a bow made out of hair, be it mine or someone elses).

But inside, Gaga, inside, I get it.

Voltaire it.

"...they, who assert that everything is right, do not express themselves correctly; they should say that everything is best." - Candide


hmm now.

oh lately it's so quiet

I don't have many full complete thoughts of my own to share lately. But here's a couple of things floating around in up there...

appreciation of subtle flattery. Like: when the cashier at Trader Joe's flirts with you. He's obviously younger but is in his element. He flirts even though your hair is kind of greasy, you have ominous bags beneath your eyes, are wearing an oversized sweatshirt and barn clogs.

autumn. Lately, I've been wishing I could find a place that was fall year-round. Analyzing this thought, it may be slightly depressing to inhabit a place eternally on the cusp of death however it might also be invigorating - a beautiful slow progression towards an infinitely impending end. Interpret as you will.

the maintenance of a considerably inappropriate crush. It's playful and will go away in no time.

the pleasure of lazily unloading groceries, opening and sampling items as you go.

running into my Poetry I graduate student professor from my junior year. She is finishing up 30 days of poetry - producing something new every day. It makes me want to give it a go in the sweet month of November. Sweet because I sense good things there.

Victor. Victor. Victor. Back again.

ohmygod.ohmygod.ohmygod.

SO EXCITED!

7:42 (in the spare room)

Light on square and hushing tea kettle wraps
crushing pressing grounds. We
half stitch and seize while
thinking two time zones ahead anticipating your night behind mine
or gaining that time back with you
Is it coffee wine or whiskey.
Is it wish or regret.
You'll know when you see it.
The forgiveness rash
and future crooked in his arm.
Casually browse the jaw
when it snaps upon misguided looks.
I'm tired.

New (Sid the) Kid?

I already posted this on my wall but seriously look at this. Even if you don't like hockey you will like this. This kid is 9! 9!!! When I was 9, I was running up and down a soccer field tripping on my own legs (yes, I've come a long way).