last night we stayed awake. everyone medicated with anti-scabies creme and i had stacks of books because in the late afternoon when i was profoundly sad and gored with exhausting Work, matt-my-friend came through for me, and suggested the library. and i breathed a sigh of relief because that made him a for real friend and i was almost not sure. so i took him to the thai restraunt because i needed hot food and coconut milk to smooth me out to normal.
we read books out loud and THAT'S MY NEW FAVORITE THING TO DO and all of us at gabe's house washing clothes and blankets and loud music etc i didn't sleep; sleep is the new awake etc. bed-friends and the four a.m. phone call to the computer to tell it i would not be attending work the following morning.
and so being lazy is infectious. wanting to work all day on the cutthroats php bb but after securing a shower at jessie k's (hot water heater is broken curiously and per usual andrew and i are ignoring the problem completely) i find i can't do anything but telephone luke stevens and convince him to waste his time as well. i do this without realizing it. the first part was just wanting coffee and maybe more talk about telepathy or something cool like that, but somehow it spirals into lets bake the rest of this cookie dough! and then you surely don't have to go to that class. lets do this this this and that that that wasting time is better with a pal. and we commence completing important tasks like buying batteries from the dollar general for bicycle boomboxes. and the bookstore, and chinese food, and on and on. i get to ride a proper bicycle around the suntrust bank in figure eights until i'm convinced that today is just perfectly formed. its grey outside and i have no attachments. that is, no one wants a single thing from me almost
a user's guide to the brain john j. ratey, md
junie b. jones loves handsome warren + junie b. jones is a beauty shop guy barbara park
the contortionist's handbook ???
something new about temple grandin: she had such anxiety about approaching people that she would run right into them, she couldn't control her muscles, or else she'd manage to stop but only about three inches from their faces. then it occured to her that approaching people was sort of like approaching the sliding automatic doors at a grocery store and so she started practicing at a local safeway, walking into the doors over and over. sometimes she'd run into them before they opened, sometimes not. and she would think about automatic doors whenever she walked up to someone, trying to control her movements
yours, amanda L. at 9:46:00 PM [+]
my search strings this month fucking rule me
7 12.07% richmond teacups bc
2 3.45% casiotone livejournal
2 3.45% joey rositano
2 3.45% melissa akdogan
2 3.45% muna hijazi
2 3.45% unpopping ears
1 1.72% aglaya ivanovna
1 1.72% amanda sculpture vcu
1 1.72% animated chocolates drawings
1 1.72% argentina and traditionals clothes
1 1.72% belle de jour fake
1 1.72% cafe panis
1 1.72% calendula pink eye
1 1.72% chad taco
1 1.72% charlotte gabel
1 1.72% childrens shakespere
1 1.72% chris donaghue
1 1.72% emo g a m e mirror
1 1.72% good moring budapest
1 1.72% hamburg cooperative backpacker free
whoa. chris donaghue, where are you now? he was an expert on the northern lights. when he showed up at the bookstore i immediate set about scamming a shower at his hotel room, because by then we were really, really all about showers. i fell alseep there and worried that i would be looked upon in an unfriendly way if i did not make out with him, but i didn't. the bookstore made us all tired and only concerned with food and showers only. and lots of these are paris stuff like that. cafe panis, joey rositano et al.
yours, amanda L. at 11:27:00 PM [+]
oh yeah, also this person. thats so exciting! and i mean it! now: going outside to scream and yell, and go buy a bottle, and draw a drawing of a little boy jumping off a bridge for gabe to tattoo himself with.
yours, amanda L. at 11:24:00 PM [+]
awake and out of the bed like a rocket. hand held to forehead. where-am-i-core. gulping vitamins with water and running fast down the stairs, i love running down stairs, makes me feel little and destructive and unbreakable, like the pink bike and its heavy swerves and screeching stops and rattley curb jumps; its good to get outside and pedalling fast before you get you start remembering what yesterday was all about. dear richmond, yesterday is always about where we were and who was with who, and its so plain sometimes, and i want to write letters to you, and i want to really tear the world apart, your friend, anda lets start it, please. lets stop circling ourselves into tinier circles. and today i went to the same old place and i bought tapes for a quarter, vaguely thinking that i'd remind myself to make a mix tape for My Worst Decision Lately, who incidentally will not like the tape and probably tell me so right off. but i was feeling good and humming happily on how it was sunday and i was by myself and no one knew where i was at that moment and that is a good way to be. i thought, i will make some more tapes for people who aren't expecting them, and then i tripped over dave kardos who said excuse me and smelled like a brewery. we drove to ben t.'s work and ate vegan cakes.
doing everything outside because the weather is warm. back and forth across the city. i make poor choices sometimes.
but FNB! and kids that are weary from heavy living and saturdailiness, and how we as a group codify our afternoon, and get to the store, make each other laugh, watch a movie, bake the cookies, get along in a simplified way. i have a cat on my lap, i have a mechanism in my hand, i have a word on the tip of my tongue, etc. i am very tired. it is not that late.
here is the second person in the whole world to link to me without knowing me at all. that makes me feel, also, sorta good. strangers out there. the internet works, and random people see. i exist. exist, exist, exist.
yours, amanda L. at 10:43:00 PM [+]
i heart springtime even though it is not. and i heart the following things also: jessie kelley and chance in lafff's car with me listening to the 12 oclock throwback and hollering best day ever over and over again, my bicycle, orange paper fliers, boomboxes from good samaritan, sunshiney springtime, kissing noelle on the bangs, trying to remember to use soymilk, THE CUTTHROATS, having clothes that are clean and not infested with vermin as some people have that we will not mention do, and jessie kelley. the end.
yours, amanda L. at 5:07:00 PM [+]
philadelphia is it/philadelphia it is
some of us after talking extensively about how frightened we were of current make out culture in rva decided that it was best to flee the city of hearts the morning of february 14th, avoiding the bowling alley show and its traps; and by god we did an excellent job of it, with perfection and no bickering as travellers sometimes do, getting everything for free at wholefoods in baltimore, parties where we sat and talked about richmond to anyone who would listen, drinking the alcohol that has caffiene in it and kept me up all night with a trembling head, karen and her lover that is fancier than her and i and had us drinking white wine with our brunch, where earlier i was trying to consider thinking about attempting to be vegan, and maybe i will, but i had a tiny taste of bacon at brunch ("see, i'm being vegan when i am around him, so if i try this bacon it balances it out, and i'll still be vegetarian right???") and new people and old clayton and karen looking prettier than ever; listening to the radio, not noticing the hours of highway, becoming terribly filthy and oily and talk of identity theft and death-faking.
everyone in richmond is making mix tapes. when i heard muna's from ben t.(een) i almost wanted to stay here and not move away to spain again like i decided i am. but we're listening to it now and it makes me sad for summertimes here that haven't happened
but first i want to hear about the show. did you go? all of you did. will you tell me about it?
and attention: all you creeping livejournalers. i know you not your name but your game. no, i mean, comment or something, please.
kindergarden all week core
who wants to cook dinner with me tomorrow. and cake. but vegan, if i still feel serious. hello?
yours, amanda L. at 11:04:00 PM [+]
on how when people tell you that they are crazy, it is at first difficult to tell if they are just being melodramatic or actually are for real
yesterday i got home to a paycheck and a box of fucking godiva chocolates and i ran up the stairs yelling, yaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy all the way into the house and then i opened the box, which came from the internet, from jdl, and then i said, yaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy with even more joyous glee. later, a few of us ate the chocolates washed down with improvised white russians made from cocoa and coffee and cream and stoli, and i talked fast with wide gestures, i am afraid of new people.
when people are in your house, so you hand them your favorites of andrew's books and feel urgently like you ought to cook them something delicious to eat? and do you pull out games and amusements and hope no one is missing televisions shows?
valentines day. i got alot of red construction paper constructions. today PDD three year olds they just ran around and mrs. king correctly guessed my zodiac sign and one little kid kept losing control and i would say, c'mere baby boy. hold my hand. hold my hand? and then i'd sing that beyonce song to him awhile.
what everyone likes:
1. being sung songs to
2. holding hands
vitamin D and its works
ideas for travel
what has happened to all the kids that were just plain black-hearted depressed and wrote sad songs about it every day? i need somebody crying on the telephone to remind me that feelings exist in richmond. criers, give a ring. we'll go on the best walk ever, maybe down clay street from new kroger through jackson ward.
yours, amanda L. at 2:40:00 PM [+]
pulled off the bandages. warming the house with heat fans. eating oranges. that milkshake song, that real life song send me an angel which i listen to over and over and stop listening to when people come over because i am embarrassed of being so addicted to it.
readings grimms fairy tales, splintering urbanism and self and others. and popping pills. and taking walks. cut and paste at the studio, i love my studio, you ought to visit me there, we will make things with the iron and the sewing. red lipstick. drawings and stickers. levels of fantasy.
andrew comes home from having drinks and says, play the music as loud as you want, talk as much as you want but i am going to sleep. he does. we listen to a number of cds and talk sitting on the floor and drinking boxed wine and smoking cigarettes and tracing lines through the air with stories and connections.
i met this kid recently and i think that he might be a liar. i mean storyteller.
yours, amanda L. at 12:43:00 PM [+]
1. muna hijazi's mom gave her twenty five dollars to spend on taking care of me. because muna's mom loves me. we bought wine and pizza with the money and ate it sitting on my red floor while andrew said the music casey made for reid's movie was destroying him. the book audio vision (michel chion), and how music/soundtrack changes a film so completely. value-added meaning. and its like the night before christmas except christmas was the hospital, with traditions involving not eating or drinking after midnight and taking out all my earrings, and i needed some new thing to do to take my mind off the waiting, and matt-with-the-hair called at that moment with something new to do and it was called hanging out with him and watching television. which sounded like a fine idea to me so we drove the borrowed car across town with the wine in tow. i wrote a will and talked feverishly about death and books i liked. on the way home i tried to explain certain things involving my senses and chemistry and muna issued a general blanket approval of everything and then we fell asleep together in my bed with the alarm set for 7am. i dreamt about being awake.
2. they put assorted needles into me. i am wearing layers of linen hospital gowns and socks with plastic feet to keep me from sliding around when i walk. the nurse held my back, pushing, when i got another mammogram because it is hard for me to clutch onto the machine myself without getting scared and passing out. they add an IV and leave me in a number of different chairs. i am introduced to a wide variety of nurses, interns, anesthesiologists and students who all say they will be in the room with me as they shake my hand. i look at the IV in my elbow crook as we shake hands, everyone asks me if i came with someone today and what am allergic to. penicillins, cephlasporins, clindomyacin. i listen to conversations that the other surgery people are having with their nurses and interns and doctors on the other side of walls and eventually i wander away from my place and try to peer into their places. i get put into a little room with a television that plays soap operas and i make telephone calls to pass the time ITS SO BORING. when the surgery comes it is so fast i want to say wait, slower. but in one minute i am helped onto the table and they change the IV bag to something sweet and place gentle tubes into my nostrils its just oxygen, she says. uh-huh, i say. and with no time passing i am being helped off the table and down the hall to have a sit. i ask them if they played music the whole time, my only memory is of clinking sounds, whooshing sounds, and powerful music. but no time has passed. i demand that they bring over one of the fourteen people so they can describe to me in detail what exactly just occurred.
3. robby from lebanon says, they made an incision around the nipple and used a ________ to ________ the skin. then they used a tool called a _________ to...to...seal the area, cauterize it. the wire was there to tell them what it was, where the area was that they had to remove. they cut this area, all the fatty tissue around it, took that out and sent it to the lab to analysis. then they closed everything back up. i am sad that i was too groggy to really remember this conversation with exactitude. he drew a nipple on a piece of paper then drew a semicircle around it symbolizing the cut.
4. it is friday. i have medicines inside me. muna carries me home, floats me like a balloon to my soft soft house and takes photographs of my bandage, i have little stickers all over me that say OPITAC and look like snaps. we warm up glass bottles of mushroom goulash, it is raining, i want books and company, the company of readers. matt arrives and the three of us lounge around talking about all the things there are to talk about ever, and i eat painkillers with relish, and i feel delightful all over, and some friends show up with beers and burnt cookies and that are delicious, they're drunk and stand in the middle of the room, swaying and waving arms, spontaneously beginning a highly animated conversation about making out that is all bravado and number-ascribing, which is both mysterious and boring. the archetype of people that talk about making out as a scorecard and those of us that find that sort of thing keenly disappointing. reader, i need chemistry and physics to keep me going, i think. and its friday, its raining, time passes, whole cds go by, and it seems like no time at all. it is friday and all i want to do is convalesce. weave a new universe, the sort you make by talking, etc etc.
5. awake at noon. three people in the bed. breakfast universe. springtime and gingerly moving about, stick-up hair and unwashed skin and bright bright future. jessie k and muna and chance at harrison street. and its all about sleep and read and sleep and read and say hellos and have coffees and commit a small faux-pas (talking about how utterly excellent someone was with their very good friend sitting nearby and knowing exactly who it is you are talking about and then absolutely calling you out on it, ooo) sleep read sleep read opiates water burnt cookie dinner sleep sleep sleep
mcv for more drogas. more nap. healing and shitty magazines and heat gun. listening to saturday night unfold outside.
yours, amanda L. at 6:48:00 PM [+]
alright, alright, i didn't mean it.
hiding the website is not want i really meant to do. i want to hide something, but i don't think its my pub-pub-public diary. i want to hide my fucking face, thats for sure. and i want a friend that likes to go on walks, at night.
AND TOMORROW IS SURGERY DAY!!!
if you are my freind, or friend rather, you WILL call or fucking visit 200 east main street tomorrow sometime after three pm, bringing hot chocolate and vodka and absolutely no flowers because if you are my friend then you know i am afraid of many plants and most of the creepy ones are flowers. and you must be prepared to examine my very gross cut-open and re-sewn body and hear my drugged rendition of the harrowing pre-op. where i hear they are going to stick a wire in the part of me that needs to be cut open. that part is right over my heart, next to the nipple. ohhhh its going to be cool! and scary as shit! i am scared to death! its all i can think about!
if you can't handle the post op then stop by tonight, muna and i are going to order a pizza and drink wine and bake a chocolate cake and get my house all cozy so its inviting to be in tomorrow. okay okay okay okay?
yours, amanda L. at 6:09:00 PM [+]
on the way home from reid elementary i saw a horrible thing. and i do not like cars. when i got home from work, all my mail was checks and the house still smelled like toast, which made me feel a little better. then i drank beers at 821 and called the bike hospital where my bike was resting at and the bike hospital attendant said i was telepathic, which is right, and my bike was fixed just then, which was the best thing; and i rode around a little, trying to break it, but it seems soundly together again, so that's that.
behind me a guy is speaking into his cell phone in some slavic language that i can't tell precisely.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
the note i was handed by a tattletale today:
a a a main think
sweit stop now look
pick bich picking
dam rihgt it betr then
I hate you
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
i'm going to hide on the fourth floor and look at picture books.
yours, amanda L. at 6:36:00 PM [+]
the mystery of swallowed love
words written on the back of my left hand:
1. james river
2. talking about milk
3. hanging onto arms
4. fat people in cars
5. giving presents
6. that guy on the bike
7. birds flying in a swarm
words written on the back of my right hand
1. idea club
and my hands, oh they are a mess
i wish i had my pink bike today. and i wish for 65 degree nights, and mapping the edges of the city. my limbs are ultra shivery, like when they want to run and climb and push pedals hard. when you lay in bed and kick around and cannot be still. when people tell you to quit it and go to sleep. that sort of thing.
tuesday wish list
1. a crappy, sturdy, fucked up bike that is milkshake pink and rattles like it will fall into its separate parts as i ride it, so that i am always remembering to be scared and think about death.
2. a solidity of purpose
3. i keep erasing this line but it has something to do with tongues
so on the way home i was staring at the birds flying around above the river and listening to fischerspooner and thinking about how last night i passed by these students that were talking but all i heard of their conversation was so now drinking, like, 2% milk is like, drinking heavy cream or something and i felt wide eyed and giggly for a second to think about this surreal archetype called Talking About Milk Preferences. that everyone has been, sometime. and then this man rides by on his bike and turns his head around and looks me over with the most unabashed appraising stare i've ever seen, as if he were frowning at a ham in kroger or something, and it was so awkward and fast and naked that i started laughing at him but he was already gone and i thought about yelling hey can i get a ride since people are always yelling that at me and my legs were tired from walking. but i knwo that wouldn't have worked so well.
yours, amanda L. at 5:52:00 PM [+]
i lost my disk with my nyc teaching fellows application and then i found it again in the vcu library but it had lost its ID-something-or-other and could not be read. erasibility. it was due today and i was going to apply online, right around now.
its obvious that i telekinesis-ed it away. because today i walked home slowly today from woodville elementary and that is 28th street to fairmont ave to mosby to king bridge to mcv to 2nd street/home, its forty-six minutes and i was looking everyone in the eye which is always the hardest thing ever and outside with kids screaming and throwing snow at everything and everyone sliding around with coats half off, hollering Goodbye Ms Lewis!!! and constant collapsing on the ice, giggling messily and this guy was getting into his truck and looked hard at me and then said, how was school today? and i said, it was great. and then i turned back and said, thanks for asking.
and thought very carefully about how much i did not want to be a teacher and, in fact, about how much i hated the system in general. i was having a pretend conversation with a friend where i tried to explain what i enjoyed about substitute teaching, and i was getting into all these issues of reality/unreality and levels of role-playing within the tangible world, issues of what is true and what is fraud
today the classroom was in two halves. one half of the desks were facing one way and the rest facing me. two ED/LD classes, mine was a little older than the other one. both teachers out, and it was completely strange, because i had my class utterly in line all day and the other sub was screaming get out from under that desk and shit the entire time while her kids threw spacemen-shaped manipulatives around. occasionally i would leave my kids and walk across the room, get her class quiet and still, and then go back to whatever it was i was doing. she was losing it hard, and i just felt so relaxed and normal and...that feeling where its entirely chaos and you are a heavy boat floating around in the middle.
how if you do a good job at pretending to be a teacher, the kids believe you, and immediately commence playing the role of students. and if you are obviously a fake teacher, they don't believe you and just let loose---being i guess whatever it is that they would be if they were not expected to be role-playing students. and i realized that i really sort of liked the idea of the whole construct just sort of crumbled away, what would happen then, etc etc. and that while i like playing the game of being a teacher, because playing games is fun, because people and their behavior is interesting, because because because...i have little interest in actually becoming part of the construct itself. being part of the long term damage that school does to alot of us.
now my teaching fellows application is gone.
okay okay okay
lets start a youth hostel.
yours, amanda L. at 6:12:00 PM [+]
rabbits, rabbits, rabbits
the weekend is still five stars. the b-boy battle at the polkadot gallery really put saturday over the top; also getting to actually entertain in my re-claimed apartment last night, cooking eggs and pancakes and coffee like a for real house with for real food and a for real kitchen; except by then i was getting so exhausted from all the new conversations i'd been having---i think i've met 100 new people in the last 48 hours and they are all talkers, or maybe i've just met one or two people that can talk with the strength of 100, i'm not sure---and i wished i could go backwards and decide to just walk home from that party instead of saying yes to everything like i do.
friends, you exhaust me. you are confusing, as a whole.
it seems like alot of things are happening and they are happening very fast. everything upside down and sideways and in circles. i've got precise words in my mouth and am holding onto them in a phantom tollbooth way and its so important to be very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very careful.
there is this problem richmond has where it dissolves before your eyes every single time, sort of like finishing a movie, and then you have to start over. again. my worst part of seeing movies in dark theaters is: first, that the movies eventually end, but second, that you are then thrust back into the world and it is made of neon and people and video game sounds. that is the worst part of movies. it is the worst part of everything. on how there is a story and you climb inside of it and then it is over and the house is freezing cold and its morning again and again struggling to go out and start over
the first ten pages of the book Hopscotch.
nicholas just called as i was thinking about 1997 and so i asked him if he was a telepath. i said, do you feel this sense of starting-over lately, a starting-over feeling? i've been feeling like when we first met each other, the way things felt then. and the enduring image is when i ran into him underneath the pollack building, he was on a bike and i was carrying a stick i had found that was shaped like a Y, and i had been thinking about running into him and almost immediately he was there on the bike, because now that i am writing this i've just realized the theme threading through this feeling and it has something to do with all the coincidences that are always happening, but i said, this looks like one of those sticks you use to find water, whats the word for that? and he says, a divining rod and i said, yes! i couldn't remember.
but just now on the phone he says in response, i feel like i'm just looking through everything, like my focal point is like 60 miles away. i'm looking through mountains.
yours, amanda L. at 2:40:00 PM [+]
anda gail lewis 2005. stop crying every day.