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[Oct. 29th, 2010|05:57 pm] |
This journal is mostly Friends Only
I probably wont add you if I don't know you in real life. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 16th, 2005|12:51 am] |
plot summery: a short 16 mm film about a boy name billy burshiq. he is a 16 year old teenager who listens to only death metal and plays drums, he has so far gone through all of high school with out being able to read and write, he does stechy little squiggles for lines and guesses on all scan trons. the only words he can write is 'my name is billy burshiq' he graduates and tells someone to write a book for him and becomes one of the best sellers ever made.
running lenth: 15 minutes. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 6th, 2005|02:46 pm] |
I feel very much what I did about 13 years ago. When my whole world turned upside down and inside out. It was the beginning of autumn 1991 and it was the best thing that ever happened to me.
thanks Dad for helping me when I needed it most. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 4th, 2005|12:11 am] |
I’m casting around for spare parts…
picking away the corrosion that settles after too long of an abstinence from emotion…
and I’m bored.
Bored. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 24th, 2005|03:40 am] |
Job search update:
I applied for a job this week, and received an email today telling me that I hadn't been shortlisted. Part of me was quite pleased, because at least I know. Most companies won't even bother going to the effort of sending a simple email to let you know, never mind offering feedback. There's nothing more irritating than not hearing ANYTHING. Believe me, I know. It's happened plenty. But part of the email kind of annoyed me. I'm not sure what it was about it, but see what you think:
"I have now drawn up a shortlist of candidates for the position. I regret
to say that your name is not amongst them at the present time. This,
however, should not be interpreted as a judgement on your achievements or
capabilities. "
Excuse me?!
First of all, correct me if I'm wrong, but when applying for a job, I thought the whole POINT was that they judge your achievements and capabilities to assess whether you're what they're looking for. How else are they going to decide whether you're a suitable candidate?
Secondly, I kind of feel like I'm being patronised. As though I might go out and top myself at the very idea that someone might have looked at my application and judged me not to be a suitable candidate. As though the idea that I was rejected might lead me to fall to pieces. I admit, its irritating, but I'll cope. It isn't the first time, and I'm fairly certain it won't be the last. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 14th, 2005|12:34 pm] |
Ten out of ten college students agree: it was one hell of a first week.
My classes are so wretchedly boring it's painful to even write about them. In my Computer Graphic Design class, for instance, I have endured two lectures this week on "what's the difference between a tower and a monitor?" and "how many bytes are in a kilobyte?" and "what is the function of the paintbrush tool in Photoshop?"
I tell ya, I was banging my head against the back wall and making detailed schedules and to-do lists all through class. I am dropping this horrible class and going back to the film department.
I have all psychology, English literature, and criminal justice majors in my Shakespeare class, and believe me when I say there is no surer way to kill the magic of Shakespeare's As You Like It than to analyze it until the cows come home. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 9th, 2005|01:21 pm] |
Black my eyes.
Because you kill me. You know you do.
The air is cursed and contaminated with a black smoke.
I can't see between these lines.
And you kill me. You know you do.
Somebody out there is caring.
This is what we call push away time, because sometimes, thats all we can do, and sometimes thats all that seems right, and sometimes, it isnt right, but you are just that kind of person. Of fear of caring too much, of fear of that step, that fear of seeing something. Or the fact that you just don't want it at all.
My thoughts are constantly moving. With nothing to put my feet on. My motivation changes, when things turn out this way. so sick of recycled ideas and events, so sick of regurgitating the same routine and the same feelings. Those times you felt alive...Those times you felt animated...
This is what we call push away time... |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 19th, 2004|07:06 pm] |
I'm also really scared. I'm scared of her the way she used to be of me. I'm scared she can't have fun with me anymore. I'm scared she'll be scrutinising me for how I've changed or for the non-profound-and-awe-inspiring things I say. I'm scared that she'll want to be somewhere else. I'm scared that she'll think that I'll want to be somewhere else.
But I am still excited. And I intend to have fun. I intend to talk to her like we've never been apart. I intend to laugh and tell her stories and listen to her stories. And I intend to share my secrets with her. No matter what she thinks of them.
In hope that one day, she may be ready to share hers with me for the first time. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 2nd, 2004|11:13 pm] |
Nearly ten months of not talking to my closest friends makes me a monster--standing very much alone, grotesque against my conscience.
I imagine myself in snowy greys, sharpened on the edges with the razor sharp point of a paintbrush's egg-gloss blackness.
Just as I have not been able to write here, I have been equally as paralyzed in uttering my existence beyond this apartment. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 1st, 2004|08:02 pm] |
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A squirral eating a nut. A bumble bee. They changed the quote on the placard in front of the Unitarian Universalist church. And a short, single, but wonderous dandelion. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 29th, 2004|05:28 pm] |
It's quiet now.
I move through quiet spaces as a prowler moves through shadows--zigzagging, squinting my eyes to concentrate, to listen.
It's so rare these days that I find myself alone in our apartment. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 26th, 2004|02:45 pm] |
I arrived in Portland by train last night, alone.
I sat facing backwards to the forward motion of the train, and attempted to lose myself in the scenery.
Instead, I found myself in broken stanzas of poetry--
...mile after mile
little towns she might have stopped
and lived and died in, lonely...~Adrienne Rich
A reminder that New England is not where I began. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 18th, 2004|03:11 pm] |
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I crave the familiarness of writing--of words dancing, colliding, meandering across the screen with the determination of erosion over the great monuments of Egypt. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 14th, 2004|07:10 am] |
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We are paralleled only by years--a quarter of a century--and my story weighs so tragically on my ink-stained fingers that washing out the blackness is as insignificant as the wringing of Macbeth's anti-heroine's hands. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 4th, 2004|03:23 pm] |
I've come here often over the past few months to find burnt-orange pears glaring at me, and a blackness so deep that to steal my voice it had only to swallow.
Spring was beginning the last time I broke through myself, and now November sits plumb with stillness and the silence of the subtle memories of previous falls.
When I try to write now, I am overwhelmed with the possible direction my words could take. There is no longer an audience, but an auditor, and I am that auditor. Words have precise places, and the pauses must be measured, measured, weighed.
Time has ceased to be indefinite. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 28th, 2004|08:28 pm] |
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Bush is really starting to annoy me. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 20th, 2004|12:25 pm] |
I really fucked up on the new flyer, I wish Krista was over here right now.
today pagoda/kumar gave up his seat on the bus for me. well, he was the spitting image of pagoda. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 17th, 2004|10:27 pm] |
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I am getting ready to throw myself headlong into this endeavor. I will need help, support, encouragement, and lots and lots of coffee. But I think I can make it happen. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 15th, 2004|06:12 pm] |
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The weather is gorgeous today. As soon as my dialated pupils get back to normal, I'll get back out in it. The trees are spectacular, with fiery red streaking up through the greens and yellows. I love it. All of this. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 14th, 2004|11:18 pm] |
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Today I got my first pipe. I got it along with a handcrafted wooden box. I'm going to smoke out of it and name it. |
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