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two_grey_roomssomeday in the not-too-distant future i will make some sort of substantive contribution to this hurr livejournal. today is not that day. in the meantime, you can:
Comment on this entry, and:
❶ I'll respond by asking you five questions to satisfy my curiosity.
❷ Update your journal with the answers to your questions.
❸ Include this explanation and offer to ask other people questions.
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cascades, who is an utter nutball, gave me these questions:
1. REMEMBER BLUE-SKIDOO FROM BLUE'S CLUES? when blue could transport into pictures and books? well, if you could blue-skidoo into any book, which would you choose?
NO, ACTUALLY, I DON'T, BUT I'LL FORGIVE YOU YOUR TRESPASSES AND ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION. and it's a very good question at that, i have to say. lovely variation on the usual "with which character would you most like to chill?" deal. aaaand my aaaanswer iiis...tales from outer suburbia, by shaun tan. yes, it is a picture book; it's essentially magical realism for kids. and shit-wow, i wish that description could do it justice. magical realism restores a sense of wonder, so i feel odd applying it to a children's book, because when you're a kid, magic is commonplace anyway.archy_the_roach introduced me to this book a couple of months ago, well past my childhood, and still it moved me on a very visceral level; it curled its way deep underneath my skin, successfully hijacking the place i reserve for favorite songs and uncomfortably revealing dreams.
the following tangent doesn't answer this question, but as this is my livejournal, i shall abuse my memes however i see fit. the book that most successfully translated the world i inhabit into a tangible place is palimpsest, by catherynne m. valente. it feels like my own headspace reflected back to me, in all its ugliness and desperation and incandescence. palimpsest is a part of me, located somewhere just beyond tales from outer suburbia, somewhere within my ribcage, possibly.
i also really pathetically wish i could beam myself into![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
shoebox_project, although that's not a book at all. it feels like home to me, in only the way your very favorite stories do. yes, i know it is a fucking fan fiction, and i lose all lit cred for admitting this. i am okay with that!
2. if you could choose to live in a different century, would you? or would you rather stay in the 21st?
fuck, no. i'm not big on romanticizing the past. humans do a pretty good job of fucking up the planet, but i remain (perhaps stupidly) a firm believer in progress. i want to continue to live just where i am and do whatever i can to bring the world a little closer to the place i believe it can be. we owe the past a lot: everything we have now, in fact. it'd be an insult to want to shave off a few decades. reminds me of holden caulfield on his merry-go-round, caught in a loop and still looking perpetually backwards. to that image, i say: no, thank you. i want to go forward. because do you know what we have now? MOTHERFUCKING JETPACKS. suck on that.
3. have you ever wanted to have any kind of exotic pet? (i always wanted a wolf when i was little.)
i want a tarantula! no, seriously. i do believe that counts as exotic. and i'll be boring and confess that when i was little, i totally wanted a dragon. still do, because i am the muggle incarnation of hagrid. although the former desire is a bit likelier to be fulfilled than the latter.
4. when you retire as an old wrinkly lady, what do you want to do with your free time?
accumulate wrinkles. play bingo; use the panoply of medications i'll undoubtedly be on as markers. laugh at my hideously disfigured tattoos. have many spiders as pets. run amok. naked, preferably. be the nut in the neighborhood all the little kids are terrified of.
5. do you have any sort of ~security blanket~ that you keep around from when you were little? mine is a stuffed animal, a goat named djali. FROM THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME, REMEMBER? esmeralda's pet goat. he has an earring! he's pretty bamf.
ONCE AGAIN, NO I DO NOT REMEMBER, BUT THANKS FOR TRYING. security blanket? you mean like a straitjacket? some of my friends would argue that i need one of those these days. i, um. don't have an actual remnant from childhood on hand? because i have no soul. well, okay, i did have this purple stuffed dog (creatively named "peace") that i used as a sort of talisman. i've yet tohand her over to the EVILS OF SUNNYSIDE throw or give her away, so that may say something about the state of my immortal soul (mostly that it's comprised of 100% pure unadulterated LAZINESS).
speaking of the sorry state of my soul, the latest regina spektor song manages to make me weep every. damn. time. and i've listened to it like twenty times at this point. it's slowly becoming tiresome. you should download it and join me in my blubbering! (and i do recognize the irony in my inadvertently prefacing this paean to childhood with an anti-holden caulfield rant. do i have my holden moments? yup. do i want to be holden caulfield? hell, no, bitches.)
the piano is not firewood yet
they try to remember, but still
they forget that the heart
beats in threes, just like a waltz
and nothing can stop you from dancing
rise from your cold hospital bed
you're not dying
everyone knows that you're going to live
so you might as well start trying
the piano is not firewood yet
but the cold does get cold
so it soon might be that
i'll take it apart, call up
my friends, and we'll warm up
our hands by the fire
don't look so shocked
don't judge so harsh
you don't know you are
only spying
everyone knows
it's going to hurt, but at least
you'll get hurt trying
the piano is not firewood yet
but a heart can't be helped
and it gathers regret
someday you'll wake up and feel
a great pain, and you'll miss
every toy you ever owned
you'll want to go back
you'll wish you were small
nothing could solve the crying
you'll take the clock off
of your wall, and you'll wish
that it was lying
love what you have
and you'll have more love
you're not dying
everyone knows
you're going to love
but there's still no cure
for crying
Comment on this entry, and:
❶ I'll respond by asking you five questions to satisfy my curiosity.
❷ Update your journal with the answers to your questions.
❸ Include this explanation and offer to ask other people questions.
cascades, who is an utter nutball, gave me these questions:1. REMEMBER BLUE-SKIDOO FROM BLUE'S CLUES? when blue could transport into pictures and books? well, if you could blue-skidoo into any book, which would you choose?
NO, ACTUALLY, I DON'T, BUT I'LL FORGIVE YOU YOUR TRESPASSES AND ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION. and it's a very good question at that, i have to say. lovely variation on the usual "with which character would you most like to chill?" deal. aaaand my aaaanswer iiis...tales from outer suburbia, by shaun tan. yes, it is a picture book; it's essentially magical realism for kids. and shit-wow, i wish that description could do it justice. magical realism restores a sense of wonder, so i feel odd applying it to a children's book, because when you're a kid, magic is commonplace anyway.
archy_the_roach introduced me to this book a couple of months ago, well past my childhood, and still it moved me on a very visceral level; it curled its way deep underneath my skin, successfully hijacking the place i reserve for favorite songs and uncomfortably revealing dreams.the following tangent doesn't answer this question, but as this is my livejournal, i shall abuse my memes however i see fit. the book that most successfully translated the world i inhabit into a tangible place is palimpsest, by catherynne m. valente. it feels like my own headspace reflected back to me, in all its ugliness and desperation and incandescence. palimpsest is a part of me, located somewhere just beyond tales from outer suburbia, somewhere within my ribcage, possibly.
i also really pathetically wish i could beam myself into
shoebox_project, although that's not a book at all. it feels like home to me, in only the way your very favorite stories do. yes, i know it is a fucking fan fiction, and i lose all lit cred for admitting this. i am okay with that!2. if you could choose to live in a different century, would you? or would you rather stay in the 21st?
fuck, no. i'm not big on romanticizing the past. humans do a pretty good job of fucking up the planet, but i remain (perhaps stupidly) a firm believer in progress. i want to continue to live just where i am and do whatever i can to bring the world a little closer to the place i believe it can be. we owe the past a lot: everything we have now, in fact. it'd be an insult to want to shave off a few decades. reminds me of holden caulfield on his merry-go-round, caught in a loop and still looking perpetually backwards. to that image, i say: no, thank you. i want to go forward. because do you know what we have now? MOTHERFUCKING JETPACKS. suck on that.
3. have you ever wanted to have any kind of exotic pet? (i always wanted a wolf when i was little.)
i want a tarantula! no, seriously. i do believe that counts as exotic. and i'll be boring and confess that when i was little, i totally wanted a dragon. still do, because i am the muggle incarnation of hagrid. although the former desire is a bit likelier to be fulfilled than the latter.
4. when you retire as an old wrinkly lady, what do you want to do with your free time?
accumulate wrinkles. play bingo; use the panoply of medications i'll undoubtedly be on as markers. laugh at my hideously disfigured tattoos. have many spiders as pets. run amok. naked, preferably. be the nut in the neighborhood all the little kids are terrified of.
5. do you have any sort of ~security blanket~ that you keep around from when you were little? mine is a stuffed animal, a goat named djali. FROM THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME, REMEMBER? esmeralda's pet goat. he has an earring! he's pretty bamf.
ONCE AGAIN, NO I DO NOT REMEMBER, BUT THANKS FOR TRYING. security blanket? you mean like a straitjacket? some of my friends would argue that i need one of those these days. i, um. don't have an actual remnant from childhood on hand? because i have no soul. well, okay, i did have this purple stuffed dog (creatively named "peace") that i used as a sort of talisman. i've yet to
speaking of the sorry state of my soul, the latest regina spektor song manages to make me weep every. damn. time. and i've listened to it like twenty times at this point. it's slowly becoming tiresome. you should download it and join me in my blubbering! (and i do recognize the irony in my inadvertently prefacing this paean to childhood with an anti-holden caulfield rant. do i have my holden moments? yup. do i want to be holden caulfield? hell, no, bitches.)
the piano is not firewood yet
they try to remember, but still
they forget that the heart
beats in threes, just like a waltz
and nothing can stop you from dancing
rise from your cold hospital bed
you're not dying
everyone knows that you're going to live
so you might as well start trying
the piano is not firewood yet
but the cold does get cold
so it soon might be that
i'll take it apart, call up
my friends, and we'll warm up
our hands by the fire
don't look so shocked
don't judge so harsh
you don't know you are
only spying
everyone knows
it's going to hurt, but at least
you'll get hurt trying
the piano is not firewood yet
but a heart can't be helped
and it gathers regret
someday you'll wake up and feel
a great pain, and you'll miss
every toy you ever owned
you'll want to go back
you'll wish you were small
nothing could solve the crying
you'll take the clock off
of your wall, and you'll wish
that it was lying
love what you have
and you'll have more love
you're not dying
everyone knows
you're going to love
but there's still no cure
for crying
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no subject
Date: 2010-07-12 09:30 pm (UTC)2. ... that's a loaded question. D: I don't know. D: Hmm. State Beta convention of '06, National Beta convention of '07, that time me and Marchetta hung out until 3:00 in the AM, that time this one very short New Yorker came to visit me, that time that Artichokie came to visit me, when Raina lived with me after Hurricane Katrina, the actual performance night when I performed in Grease, reading a poem at graduation (but not graduation as a whole itself blegh), that one really awesome makeout session with John even though he's kind of a douche, the day Laurel, one of my tutees, got a B for the first time on a math test, the day I discovered Fat Acceptance / Body Positivity / Haes / WHATEVER, the overall awesome parts of my MCR concert, that moment when my grandma gave me that bear to sew up and dress up a week before she died, all the garden planting / tractor driving / building shit times with my dad, me and Mama laying in bed singing You Are My Sunshine, AND UM. THAT IS POSSIBLY IT. MAYBE. I THINK. Wait! The first time I mastered Heavenly Sunlight on piano. And my Lion Eyes thread on the boards in whole.
3. I AM NOT, SO SHUT UP, DAWG. But srsly. I feel like I don't deserve "awesome" since everything I've learned/done/accepted/realized to make me more awesome, the kind of stuff you like to list when you're feeling expositiony, is just stuff that makes me a decent human being now, and I don't think that deserves awesomeness since it should be the norm. I'M NOT SAYING IT IS, but it should be.
4. Purple, sassy fat people, hand-holding, rain on window screens, you, happiness, anyone who is confident and happy and naked. <- Photographs in general that encompass any of these things, but I'll also take stories and poems and real life experiences and anything else.
5. GOD I CAN'T NARROW IT DOWN AND THEY ARE ALL SPITEFUL. To Ethan, I would ask why he lied to me and dropped me like a hot potato. I would ask Annie why she is so shallow and internally misogynistic. I would less ask Jacob why he ruined my life for a long time and more so tell him and then kick him in the nads. I would ask my dad why he thinks he's superior to black people and women, especially fat women. I would ask my mother why she refuses to listen to me ever.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-13 12:39 am (UTC)how is that a loaded question? OMG I'M YOUR SHORT NEW YORKER <3. i'm like jon stewart, only not quite as asthmatic nor as funny. awesome make-out sessions are awesome, regardless of whom it is you're snogging. that being said, hate sex is awesome. d'awwww you and your adorably earnest love for teaching <3. LION EYES. AUGH. THE HP BOARDS! MY CHILDHOOD!
YES YOU ARE, JACKASS. it makes you awesome because it isn't the norm; it's incredibly far from it, and you are one determined motherfucker re: making the world a kinder, better place. seriously, you're like my favorite ever, okay, GO LOVE YOURSELF.
d'awww she called me beautiful! :') ALSO I AM OFTEN CONFIDENT AND MOMENTARILY HAPPY AND NAKED, SO IT'S LIKE I'M LISTED TWICE. fuck yeah.
your questions make me want to hug you forever. i kind of want to kick ethan in the nuts now (jacob goes without saying). they are all horridly painful questions, and i really kind of desperately wish there were ever an appropriate forum for them. or at least some way of making it all better. augh. *hugs you forever*
no subject
Date: 2010-07-13 12:53 am (UTC)YOU MIGHT BE MY SHORT NEW YORKER. PERHAPS I KNOW A LOT OF SHORT NEW YORKERS WHAT NOW. Hate sex *_____* TEACHING IS GRATE OH MY GOD I'M THAT PERSON. /o\ AND INORITE? Sometimes I really do miss the boards, even though I was a perman00b and so very embarrassing in hindsight. OH SELF :'''D
OH I LOVED MYSELF ALRIGHT >:D
And this is why you are amazing forever and ever the end.
COME BACK DOWN HERE SO I CAN HUG YOU AND THEN HOLD YOU TO MY BOSOMS AND SWING YOU IN THE AIR AGAINST YOUR WILL AGAIN. ;______;
♥
no subject
Date: 2010-07-13 08:59 pm (UTC)THAT IS SUCH A MOTHERFUCKING LIE, YOU FOUL THING. DO YOU KISS YOUR MOMMA WITH THAT MOUTH? hate sex is amazing. i almost wanna piss off more people so i can have more of it! d'awww, the boards. i always wrote in green! as if i were a sewer rat caked in slime. remember? <3
I AM AMAZING. IF BY CONFIDENT, YOU MEAN DRUNK. AND IF BY HAPPY, YOU MEAN DRUNK. AND IF BY NAKED, YOU MEAN...NAKED. AND IF BY AMAZING, YOU MEAN DRUNK! and i was all of those things last night! DOES THAT MAKE YOU LOVE ME? fyi, going to the dentist while hungover is a vastly unpleasant experience D:
YESSSS I LONG FOR YOU TO RAVISH ME WITH NOT ENTIRELY CONSENSUAL HUGS AGAIN!
no subject
Date: 2010-07-13 09:35 pm (UTC)I DON'T KISS MY MOMMA. THAT WOULD MAKE ME A LESLIEBEAN. GOD, ELLIE, GET REAL. I am jealous of your underage frivolities! I do! BECAUSE YOU WERE WEIRD AND KINDA SMELLY. SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE <3333
... WHY WOULD YOU GO TO THE DENTIST HUNGOVER WHY. TIMES YOU SHOULD NOT GET DRUNK: BEFORE YOU GO TO THE DENTIST. ELLIE OH ELLIE
OM NOM NOM RAVISHING >:9
no subject
Date: 2010-07-13 09:48 pm (UTC)RIGHT, I'VE NEVER SEEN THE ANDY GRIFFITH SHOW, CLEARLY I AM A CULTURELESS TWATBUCKET.
AND LESLIEBEANS GET LYNCHED IN POPLARVILLE! as you should be. my underage frivolities are kind of A+, for the most part, and none of them have killed me yet! LOLZ SMELLY ELLIE 4 LIFE <33333
LIES! LIES AND FALSEHOODS! ALL THE TIME IS A GOOD TIME TO GET DRUNK. ANYWAY I DIDN'T KNOW I HAD A MOTHERFUCKING APPOINTMENT, BECAUSE MY MOTHER WAS CONVINCED I'D REMEMBERED HER TELLING ME ABOUT IT THREE FUCKIN' WEEKS AGO. so today my brother woke me up at like 12:30 by putting his iguana on my head (no, that is not a euphemism, you vile thing), and the iguana smelled like poop, and i wanted to punt the fucking thing across the room, but i didn't, because i love that iguana, but i wanted to punt my brother across the room, but i didn't, even though he's made of poop, halfway because he's too heavy and halfway because i had to race to the bathroom to throw up at that precise moment. MY LIFE IS SO HARD.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-14 02:59 am (UTC)UH, CLEARLY. THAT SHOW WAS MY CHILDHOOD WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU.
Lesliebeans do not get lynched here! No one gets lynched here! Anymore. NONE OF THEM WILL EVER KILL YOU BECAUSE IF THEY START TO, I WILL BURST THROUGH THE WALL AND GO "OH YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAH" I'm not sure how that will save your life, really, but I have faith.
Awwww, your mom is so cute. Remember when we played cards? OH MEMORIES :'''''D Also, you're a failboat, also that story is hilarious. I BET HIS IGUANA IS A RARE WARM-BLOODED IGUANA. A BIG WARM-BLOODED IGUANA IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.
And this is why you don't get hungover before going to the dentist!!!!!!
no subject
Date: 2010-07-14 05:16 pm (UTC)i'm sorry i was too busy watching pokemon and reading a series of unfortunate events to visit mayberry. YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND, KITTY. I WANNA BE THE VERY BEST, LIKE NO ONE EVER WAS.
if you did that, they would be momentarily distracted, but then they'd return to slaughtering me, and you too, probably. nonetheless, i heartily appreciate the gesture.
YES, AH DO, BIGGER SISTER <3. oh my god shut up that story is the opposite of hilarious ;____;
AND I TOLD YOU I DIDN'T KNOW I WAS GOING TO THE BLEEDING DENTIST. NOW YOU ARE MAKING ME REPEAT MYSELF. AND THAT'S NOT GROOVY. >:(
no subject
Date: 2010-07-14 07:29 pm (UTC)Not an excuse!
AT LEAST WE WOULD DIE TOGETHER. *CLIIIIINGS*
Pete and Repeat were sailing on a boat! Pete fell off! Who was left on the boat? :D? Also, get a day planner.