whip in my valise
its grey and cool outside, which is my favorite. i am filing files and lila and i are listening to adam ant. my last day at work has been determined but it is not until october 4.
the mood at work is jovial. it is payday. they are laughing about finding drunk men passed out in the farmers' market bathroom and the idea of addressing all the rich area developers as "dude."
my house has no electricity. i love it. everything is packed and simple, and the fans are finally quiet, and i have a big flashlight and nothing else but outside noises. the only thing in the world that i want is to look at the sky and hear stories about space and feel happy.
yours, amanda L. at 10:27:00 AM [+]
why isn't anything reaching me like it should.
sort of caught on some funny snag, stuck in the top layer except the top layer is the water's surface and i'm not quite out and breathing.
everything becoming medium and lukewarm
yours, amanda L. at 11:34:00 PM [+]
on how my room is systematically unravelled, and how i woke up at eleven and it was not miserably hot
there are a million tiny bits of saved trinkets spread out into compliacted patterns all over the room. there is no place to put your feet. small piles of photographs and pictures cut from books, a stack of old library and ID cards, plastic indians, scarves from thirft stores printed with little yellow west virginias or gaudy orange flowers; french books and computer books and pop physics books and peter hoeg books; two cats alseep and its sad that i will only have them one more week and its sad when i look at them and oh i remember every second of their kittenhood; five pairs of scissors, at least twelve or twenty bags of a variety of shapes and colors, half-embroidered pieces and unfinished works of sewing, bottles of rubber cement and modpodge, unsent postcards; and its impossible to get anything done because every time i open something to look inside there are another million things to go over and process, smaller and smaller parts, i am finding the smallest particle of my bedroom, and i chopped all my hair off today listening to that dntel song on repeat, like in a trance, it had grown very long and i already miss it, i pointed the video camera at myself and in the middle of the process i wanted to sit on the floor and cry for some reason; muna visits eventually because i implore her to: i can't pack a thing. all i can do is listen to music and pace around, rearranging my piles. i'm cutting all my hair off and i can't stop. i need witnessess to all this hiding and putting away of myself. be the person that comes over to my house and sits with me like a friend ought to.
yours, amanda L. at 6:02:00 PM [+]
my house, with even more empty boxes. for packing, for leaving, and i sleep next to them, pushing them out of the way with my knees
i want to live out of a suitcase. running all over the world. climbing into abandoned buildings.
elizabeth cooke and i drove a big white car to charlottesville to sit in brent cody's green living room and hear a little music that they made with computers and their own voices. and to drink red wine and watch the movie labyrinth and sit in the apartment of a girl i can't remember ever meeting; later with cooled-down air, cigarettes and curling up asleep on the floor a bit drunk.
muna hijazi calls from herndon virginia and i tell her only a small part of everything; and she and i we yell together
yours, amanda L. at 9:27:00 PM [+]
1. biking all over the place. northside. places i haven't seen before. north avenue to chamberlayne to leigh street to hermitage road to the factories over there. i stopped outside of some obscure part of the cocacola building where music was coming out of the windows.
now, if there is one thing i love it is biking around all night but if there is a second thing i love it is the sound of some terrible indie emo rock band practicing and the music bouncing around across the street into the sky and i am not kidding. it is the happiest noise ever, some band practicing with the windows open and me alone in the street looking up and not able to tell if the sound is coming from one side of the street or the other.
i just rode around in the middle of their songs
the best is when someone is singing
2. nation of ulysses plays pretty for baby
3. i can't find my book
yours, amanda L. at 12:38:00 AM [+]
on how i suddenly seem to have a crush on math
i am reading this old (um, 1989) book by roger penrose called the emperor's new mind. it is about AI and physics and interesting stuff like that. on page 17 he starts talking about algorithms and at the first mention of the word "algorithm", my heart misses a beat and i have to stare off into space for a second. catching my breath. this happens again on page 18 at the words "Turing machine". i can't concentrate and am overcome with a sort of longing.
after a moment, i just start laughing like a lunatic.
then the notion that there is something about computers that i just don't get hits me and i feel sad. and girly.
jonathan arp fixed my bike so it does not rattle in the front. but i dropped my bike, and now it rattles in the back. i sort of broke it a little to make it quit rattling. then i spray-painted it pale pink and afixed rectangular reflective stickers on the front wheel guard. they spell B-I-K-E in a nice vertical column. my room is full of boxes. the electricity keeps going on and off, and when this happens the stoplight outiside also goes off and the cars drive really fast through the intersection to avoid getting caught not stopping.
when i typed "bikes are rad" into google, i found this page. it is only really good if you listen to the commentary. but even then, it is pretty dumb.
yours, amanda L. at 8:34:00 PM [+]
archival graph paper for artists and scientists
when i saw these i thought of nicholas. nicholas, those lines on the first poster you will notice right away depict napoleon's march but look how the lines grow thinner as the men are killed. the black line is the march back. look, look.
yours, amanda L. at 3:30:00 PM [+]
if you, reader, wanted to soothe my brokenheartedness, you would buy me one of edward tufte's books. or send me to one of his workshops. or have him call me on the telephone to discuss diagrams.
oliver sacks has a website as well.
where is muna? muna: lets draw graphs that explain the world. and then, lets make a house from them. lets draw a diagram and live inside of it, and always know the right directions and times to move about! and lets have only instruction manuals on the bookshelves, and only cookbooks in the kitchen. i memorized this number today: 141592653589793238462643383279502884197169399375105. its true. i think that is 51 numbers, in a row. i stared at my ceiling and allowed them to scroll by. when i get to a hundred i am going to learn them backwards. and then remember them whenever i need to clear my head. dear muna you are my moral compass and i am adrift without you!
yours, amanda L. at 2:55:00 PM [+]
how are you?
i'm learning stuff
that is always good
fixing muna's website
i'll look at it again
you know i look at your stuff often
what would be less than medium?
"door closed; loud music"
that is less
well i'm "door closed; loud music" today
just a passing mood
i'm listening to built to spill
hormones or something
when i am about to get my period i can't deal with space/time/motion
you ought to make me a mix tape, when ever you have spare time and send it to me
i can't think about physics or i get ill
and i can't eat cause i'm nauseaous, thinking about gravity and rotation
i just want to lay on the floor with my eyes closed. its like my internal balance is fucked, and my brain thinks i'm on a boat
i really like thinking about physics, though
yours, amanda L. at 12:17:00 PM [+]
1. kousmichoff tea.
2. i feel strange all over.
when i think of the world rotating, it makes me seasick. i want to tape things to it, the rotating world. glue pictures against buildings. i become a little afraid to sleep; i imagine my bed sliding across the floor, waking up to this, always nighttime and always autumn with trees hissing, and the cars outside rolling away. this is how my stomach feels today. an egg-shaped track that loops irregularly, like the pull-toys that wobble up and down.
the best thing is a record player with a long cord so that you can sit outside or on the roof
the best thing is walking all over the city all night with a big flashlight
the best thing is falling asleep when the weather is changing
the best thing is wandering around a big park with a bottle of wine
the best thing is waking up at three am alone and getting on your bicycle and riding around while the whole world is turned off and still.
the best thing is looking at the sky
we are attatched to the world. we are made of cells that do not fly apart and know to stick together in a person shape. our feet touch the ground when we run. we talk by making sounds. we understand what the sounds designate.
we agree on things and that is what the world is made of
yours, amanda L. at 11:05:00 PM [+]
find x if
i drank some coffee even though i said i wouldn't anymore. it was espresso, with ice and milk mixed into it.
now i am shaky handed. or not, i mean, my hands are okay, but my heart is shaky.
last night i woke up and a cat was asleep on my chest.
tomorrow i will attend the wedding of my cousin jennifer. i know very little about her life or the boy she is marrying.
craigsville virginia is in the mountains. it is small.
yours, amanda L. at 12:38:00 PM [+]
anda gail lewis 2005. stop crying every day.