February 2012
22 posts
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why i though watching 30 Rock in public was a good...
everyone in the library thinks i’m a lunatic probably.
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three sleeps 'til NYC
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than sinning
a generation dosed in hand sanitizer.
drugs to take for every tick we make. and we label, label, we label.
my friends throw out their jackets when the lining rips. the man at Upside Dive sold me my purple peacoat half off, we made the torn lining the silver, not the cloud. what can i do but glamorize my poverty? what can i do but glare quietly
rolling my eyes at the privileged. counting my...
i’m in the kind of mood where i could bite someone’s head off for trying to cheer me up.
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“I am what I feel and think and do. I want to express my being as fully as I can...”
– The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
“How can hip hop be dead if Wu-Tang is forever?”
– Sylvia Plath (via incorrectsylviaplathquotes)
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1,250 words is not enough words to discuss...
I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY
January 2012
45 posts
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epicure
in red lipstick i make note of the flowers in meek girls’ hair,
when the un-stylish give it a try.
i am horrified behind my wine glass,
i am towering over party guests, i don’t need high heels to be cruel.
we’ve trekked down bathurst and climbed up a flight of stairs,
a sense of time travel wafts through the speakers,
1920’s jazz, toulouse paintings,
brass decor, brass in my blood.
the...
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this week:
passport application 12 hour work day at tarragon (annual fundraiser) take advantage of free hot yoga classes at the yoga lounge.
read 12 books of the Iliad by Thursday essay outline for Mythology by Thursday
Read 75 pages of “Lullabies for Little Criminals” by Friday Finish Sylvia Plath essay by Friday
…sleep?
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lynn crosbie snuck into our literature lecture...
the lecture was on her book of poetry “missing children.”
i spent half the lecture nervously fiddling with my faux-fur hat and finding reasons to turn around and stare at her to see if this woman with the deep laugh of a writer hearing her words outloud was truly mizz crosbie.
she so was.
AND SHE SIGNED MY COPY OF THE POEMS AND SPELLED MY NAME CORRECTLY
AAAAAAAAAND she asked me to...
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if i didn't have room-mates...
who would tell me “that’s enough fiona apple for the day!” ?
who would remind me that just because salsa has a lot of ingredients doesn’t make it a meal!?
who would lend me their keys until i have enough money to get mine copied (for the third time since september…) ?
NO ONE I WOULD BE SAD AND MY INSIDES WOULD BE TOO SPICY AND I’D BE FROZEN TO DEATH...
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P90X Kenpo X
why…why god…why….
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so i went to the Grace Kelly exhibit last night...
and I audibly gasped when I saw a small collection of her hats…IN PARTICULAR…that red pleated Balenciaga turban!
A group of ladies turned around to ask me if I was ok. I had stopped dead in my tracks, jaw dropped, hand to my heart.
As I wrote in the journal I toted around and wrote notes in throughout the exhibit;
“UM RED TURBAN HEY THERE!”
Okay so mine was...
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if i am getting insanely emotional over old...
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“The next real literary “rebels” in this country might well emerge as some weird...”
– David Foster Wallace
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dear literature class,
you are perfect.
even when i have my hand raised forEVER but chicken out and stay quiet.
i have a feeling every english class Post-Mount will be lacking.
love,
meghan
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that horribly anxious feeling when you send...
and you want them to maybe be in it…
but what if it’s a terrible play?
I CAN’T TELL ANYMORE!
all girl DJs play loud rap music
heading to parkdale, please.
leopard print, lightning ring, baseball socks, brown lace up boots, Buffy nails, faux-fur hat.
(can’t leave rap alone, the game needs me)
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Purdah | Sylvia Plath
Jade — Stone of the side, The antagonized Side of green Adam, I Smile, cross-legged, Enigmatical, Shifting my clarities. So valuable! How the sun polishes this shoulder! And should The moon, my Indefatigable cousin Rise, with her cancerous pallors, Dragging trees — Little bushy polyps, Little nets, My visibilities hide. I gleam like a mirror. At this facet the bridegroom arrives...
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the bends
dictionaryofobscuresorrows:
n. frustration that you’re not enjoying an experience as much as you should, even something you’ve worked for years to attain, which prompts you to plug in various thought combinations to try for anything more than static emotional blankness, as if your heart had been accidentally demagnetized by a surge of expectations.
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if philosophy class was a person, i’d give it a...
Ever Considered moving to Sackville? →
blacksheephair:
This is the shit!
Click the title!
i know the guy that made this! it’s pretty hilarious.
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