Thursday, January 29, 2009

Tuesday, January 27, 2009


It's incredibly interesting. I started out the book with complete sympathy for the narrator. He speaks of his first love, who, before they were able to fully quench their thirst for each other, died four months after the summer they spent together. Because of this he has never gotten over her and as he grows he is still attracted to girls of the same age group as his first love.
As he grows older, he falls in love with a girl of about 12 years. I became so attached to the narrator that along the way I was rooting for him, so to speak, to get with the girl already. the suspense was built up so much, I just wanted it to happen, and then I had to remind myself that this girl is 12 and he is a man somewhere around 30, i'm guessing. It's a very very strange feeling, but I could not put the book down.
The narrator is in such an unusual place. He knows he should not love this girl. He knows it's disgusting for a man of his age, yet he's absolutely in love.
It's actually very sad.
I almost want to hate myself for loving him.
I'm about half way through.

Monday, January 26, 2009

Ink (A favorite Medium)

Waltzing With the Open Sea
22" x 26"

What was Golden Was Grey
36" x 48"

Your Skin is Something That I Stir Into My Tea
36"x 48"


Critical Inquiry - Friday (9am-11:45am)
Teacher - Tracy Wallace
Required Reading - The Best American Non-Required Reading, Critical Theory Today

...intentional? ironic?

currently reading:

Next in my pile:
Candide - Voltaire
Beyond Good and Evil - Nietzche

Any other suggestions?

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Once Upon A Winter

I don't want to sleep alone tonight. I can't seem to sleep the whole night through. Walls keep moving left to right, up and down, forward and backward in beautiful dark reds that turn into violets and I feel as if it's me, my mind, moving them. Everything is one and nothing is separate. One thing moves because of everything else and it's just so warm. Then I wake up and the wall is solid, white, cold, and static, completely separate from me. There is no one in my bed but myself and nothing in this world is a part of me in the middle of the night except for myself. It is the loneliest feeling I have ever experienced.
My emotions are so so malleable - so malleable. So are they ever even real? Did my feelings for any of these males ever truly exist as me feeling that for that person or were they just me using them for an emotional fix? Are the people only arbitrary then? It's all science and chemistry, I am not even involved.
Live your life and I'll live mine.
Your fate will never involve me.
A garden of misery lives beneath my bones
...and they ache, and they ache.
Our bodies turn into skeletons and collide to become one.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

A Letter to a Dear Friend

I'm glad I'm an atheist otherwise this past week would have stolen my religion.

Friday, January 9, 2009

Long Term Plans

I'm thinking of dropping out of college to start an internet porn site. Hello, money.

Steel City, PA

His soul stretched tight across the skies
That fade behind a city block,
Or trampled by insistent feet
At four and five and six o'clock;
And short square fingers stuffing pipes,
And evening newspapers, and eyes
Assured of certain certainties,
The conscience of a blackened street
Impatient to assume the world.

Oranges, Lemons, Grapefruit.

Life itself is meaningless. No matter who your friends are, how intellectual or educated you are, no matter how much or little fun you have you will sill live and die just the same. No one is spared and no one is punished. We all reach the same fate.
We spend our lives working towards things for improving others' lives, but they will all come to an end and what then of your accomplishments? What will they mean after you and all that knew you are gone?
I never asked to be born and now the only truth there really is in my life is that it will come to an end eventually. I don't want to die, i'm afraid to die. I don't want to grow old to see all of those around me die and to know that my time is coming soon. But I have been born against my will and now what is life? Waiting? Waiting to die? Does it really actually mean anything?