they took dre away in handcuffs. i have no idea why. i stopped by the red room earlier today, the ISS room, giving wilbert and cevin their work, all the boys were in little cubicle areas with desks and oh it was so pointless and they're hollering can i ride your bike ms lewis and cevin just had his head on the desk and would not lift it, and it made me depressed as hell.
yours, amanda L. at 12:55:00 PM [+]
na-na, shanel and shavonda and i discuss the songs we like and sing them. you used to be my best friend, we were close like cousins equann mosley sleeps with his head and arms buried into his blue R.A.P. shirt, i pick up the yellow lanyard laying next to him and hit his shoulder with it. thwack. equann. EQUANN. head up. you gotta read, baby. you're on yellow. you can't sleep. what's his part? the nurse. you're the nurse...its just one line, equann! and everyone starts laughing at that. its a good day because we're all sick of poetry and poetry is over with. do you remember reading plays in school? its excruciating. remember the kids that would use a strange "acting" voice, unlike their regular reading voices but nothing like actual people speak---i'm glad that my readers are so awful that they struggle just to not stop at the end of a line or pronounce every fourth word or even read all the words in the right order. because i'd rather listen to that than the weird play-reading tone.
sometimes when i sit here fourth block (um, planning) a random person will walk by, yellow hallpass in hand, and suddenly thrust the door open and let out a loud yell or indistinguishable sound. if i turn around and give them a stare they will say, oh sorry my bad ms. lewis and flee.
at lunch the teacher thats taken over mr white's class asks if its a full moon. ramon page's throaty nonstop babble can be heard above everyone else and i can hear sqeaky shreiking some out-of-tune song. mr white shattered both his kneecaps last week and i felt sorry because that particular morning it was raining hard and as his car splashed past me i glared at it and thought, i know he saw me soaking walking that jerk and wished for something to fall on his head; when i eventually got to school he was laying in the doorway and mr nettles was on the walkie-talkie. and now we have some other lady whose told me her name a thousand times but i can't understand her when she says it and i'm embarrassed to ask anymore. ms blur? mr hurl? ms whirl? ms burr?
yours, amanda L. at 12:13:00 PM [+]
a richmond specific story.
on how we embark on a just-friends project.
an improved model.
again, crazy dreams like no other, just like the night before. and they must have been unusually intense, because i was drunken and drunks don't dream, but i did, and they were cryptic and uncharacteristic and cast with surprises. the drinking was an on-purpose accident. me and the boy decided that it was in our own best interests to not make out anymore, at which point we immediately commenced drinking whisky and ginger beer and who knows what else, found ourselves once again traversing the city like goofy wind-up toys, sitting on the ground, how will we ever make it and where will we ever go, and then somehow finding a stackful of cheese pizzas (!!!) as well as successfully arriving to my house in one piece. and then of course we made out. but only a little. it was more a sort of listening-to-mirah-and-beat-happening party and then the conductivity of everything; the night itself. right?
just friends is my favorite.
dear the boy: i still fucking can't believe that you found this website before i told you about it. are you going through my stuff right now? i would if i were you. your very good friend, anda. p.s. this entire post is written in your direction. but you're such a smart cookie i don't have to say so do i?
yours, amanda L. at 12:08:00 PM [+]
had a dream with chance in it. we were at some circus? or outside of one? and talking about camping somewhere, he said he had a tent? it was in the desert, but sometimes it was outside my parents house in craigsville, and there were strange patterns spraypainted allover the dirt and dry ground. there was more but i can't remember.
its because i saw him at jessie's last night. i told him he looked like an easter egg. he said he hated easter. i said, i like headphones that cover up all your ears and he opened the cd case and showed the cd inside. and it was dntel life is full of possibilities, and i said, do you want to have a birthday party this year like last year and he said at the roller skate rink? he was wearing brown and light blue and white. what is nice about chance: he makes it easy to be quiet when quiet is so difficult for me sometimes.
we have similar birthdays.
yours, amanda L. at 9:09:00 AM [+]
monday is good.
there is a grassy smell in the air.
last night i read the book until i thought i'd go crazy. and then i had someone else's dreams instead of my own.
at harrison street i saw all my favorites at once, a half-dozen of them in all, and thought i'd fly into pieces then and there, and suddenly by accident i had much too much information, a sort of finished-up rubix cube and then everything wavered like a paper airplane, and because i am delicate, i ran away ultra fast.
i gave out another haircut. i am not so good at haircuts, but i sure do like to cut hair to bits. my hands shook. i had drunk three cupfuls of orange juice for the sugars and was staggering against the dark mood creeping up, which did finally take me down around four oclock this afternoon.
andrew and i decided last night during our house meeting (where we laid side by side in his bed and had this conversation:
are you moving away?
to your dad's?
for how long?
then new york?
i'm running away.
june? but maybe i'll couch sleep around until july.
(reid walks in) what's with the bed meeting?
---to move away. or to stay until july, at which point i will get up off the beery floor and brush the seeds from my hair and smooth my skirts and very, very quickly run away from home. i am looking for far away and fast as possible, today. all the pretty kids hurt my head.
i'd like some serious-minded things to think about, those sorts of things that have nothing to do with the heart, maybe electronics and languages and the growing of plants. jim straub said i am behaving like a caricature of myself and he's so awfully right. but if i keep making that face it'll stick that way, you think? i'm going to buy a mail-order bride from russia. at which point she and i, and her name will be avitchnyka or something voluptuous like that, will eat cakes in bed all day and drink cold vodka and fall asleep with our hands in each others tangled hair, or maybe our foreheads pressed together. because that's my favorite, warm faces and messy heads, but if i have a domestic life and a little safety from harm well then i can stop fretting and hit the books----!
and i stood outside in the afterschool light on baker street and listened to mr wilkins tell about how ridiculous children---meaning young ladies like myself--- are. or so he says, and is the expert on a number of things. while he spoke i sang the song that goes i don't want to know if you're playing me keep it on the low cause my heart can't take it anymore at him. he interrupted himself to suddenly order me to get out of this weather immediately, and in fact the clouds had turned purple and everything was blowing around all at once. i was pretending to rock forwards and backwards on the bicycle but the bicycle is not that kind of bicycle so i actually wasn't. and when he told me to scoot i did.
at home the door had been busted open to bits along its edges where the bolt sort of was and reid and i could not figure out why. nothing was stolen and nothing else was opened up and busted like the door. but the door was sure busted. it doesn't matter, i decided. it surely doesn't.
oh, plus this:
1. that's scary.
what? running away?
running away isn't scary...its the antidote for what's scary. its scary when everyone knows you and knows what you're up to, and you know what everyone else is up to, all the time; its scary when you have no privacy.
yours, amanda L. at 6:16:00 PM [+]
keep it on the l---
dear richmond. please quit making the sluts so adorable. or just hide them away from me so i don't meet any more. because i already destroyed my brain enough last winter. your friend, anda.
yours, amanda L. at 12:59:00 PM [+]
SO IF YOU'RE CUTE AND FURRY,
OR EVEN IF YOU'RE NOT,
REMEMBER LEO THE LION HEARTED
AND THE LESSON THAT HE GOT.
1. the documentary devil's playground
2. i'm addicted to burn collector.
3. east of eden
4. my old boombox; new mix tapes
5. drawing. like a crazy drawing machine
fridays night is sometimes improved when you've got headphones that cover your ears. listening to that walkmen song (i used to go out and know everyone i saw/ now i go out alone if i go out at all), and jason really likes that song, on repeat while my friends attack each other at the boxing party. which made the violence into something surreal and weirdly pretty---erased all sounds of punching and skin and fights that are so near, and between friends---and kept everything still and measured out into verse chorus verse. everyone turning to monsters and angels all over the fucking place
last night didn't work. across down were old treasured friends, in a place it wasn't right for me to go, and i've got this huge separation chasm something feeling when i think of them, like we're lost to each other; and meanwhile i'm sort of swept up in the waters of everyone else, we're all racing through friday and its gifts, and there's barely anyone i know very well on this side, and at the end of the night when everyone disappears into assorted doorways---. i don't know where they go. but something is missing from the entire mess. something very big and important.
yours, amanda L. at 5:17:00 PM [+]
enamorada we listened to this stupid story, narrated by a woman with a whiny anglo voice that made me cringe and want sorely to put my hands over my ears and my head on the table. i shared tylenol with jackie, even though it is not allowed for us to do this. its the nurse's domain and not mine. most of all i wanted to sit at the kitchen table with eugene like two adults, like the old man and his wife had done, maybe drink some coffee and talk about books yeah, me too.
yours, amanda L. at 11:49:00 AM [+]
at harrison street stevie gave me the parts that fell off the pumpkin bread and they were still warm. i walked along the street eating it from a little bag, and there was construction work sounds all around me, and modest mouse coming out from someone's car, and my arms are warm, and i want someone to take me swimming in the dark
yours, amanda L. at 12:38:00 PM [+]
if thats the way to spelt it
we are doing an idiom worksheet.
look before you leap
it never rains it pours
the apple doesn't fall far from the tree
it is friday
ms lewis can't we just chill today?
my eyes are sore from staying up last night("you are a sight for sore eyes" is an idiom---)
but i did fall asleep, at one point, and woke up to explosions and loud music. my head was on the boy's thigh and my arms had pins and needles;
last night we the city of richmond rollerskated and it is all i want, to be rollerskating all the time, and i pine for it when i'm not, just like being ten years old, and i remembered how to do it almost, and there is nothing that relaxes me so thoroughly than being in motion and on wheels; and how back then we would get so feverish in our preparations to go to skate night in manassass, because it was another town and we would be able to ask the strange boys to couple skate without fear of rejection or having to see them in school in the daylight the next day
the fear of having to see someone in the morning, when the light is harsh and you are shy and horrified all at once. it is an enduring problem
yesterday walking around northside. the concrete house shaped like a thirtysided polygon, and the parts of the city that seem unmapped and uncharted; the inbetween spaces
it had a mailbox and everything
who wants to go out, and play in the hidden spaces
the only way to cure it is to stay awake all night. the best is when you look up from intense conversation only to discover that it is daytime around you, somehow
yours, amanda L. at 10:46:00 AM [+]
we drove back from craigsville in the dark, with my sister running the transmitter from the backseat, listening to depeche mode, deciding to be goths and throw moveable roller-dance nights in parking lots you must be sad and you must be on wheels and i pointed out all the blank highway signs that i like so much; at my house we lined each others' eyes with eyeliner, went to the birthday party, drank colored alcohol, grew tired and slept on the floor so lolee would be comfortable in my bed by herself. because she is delicate and anxious like our mommy
in the daytime she was ill from being here and threw up in the toilet and i was scared and left work but when i got there they had both vanished, and i took the new and ominous blue bike around campus calling her name like a kitten, feeling bright inside like i had some sort of light shining straight out of my skin, and falling over because i don't know how to make the head part of the bike stay together and it twists slowly in circles and i adjust it fast by bracing one leg against the frame and kind of lifting the handlebars up and giving it a quick turn which sometimes works and sometimes does the opposite and spins the wrong way and i fall over; i assumed with a trusting heart that i'd run into somebody with tools but the world was empty and quiet
we walked all over the countryside, which was green, and told six thousand million stories, like people that have stories and need to catch the other up, and i buy lottery tickets;
yours, amanda L. at 9:33:00 AM [+]
the bicycle was laying in a field. its bright blue like the letter T. i looked at for a long time. its not that i wanted to steal it, its that i wanted to ride it. and then everything changed---do you ever have the feeling that nothing is connected to you, or that everything suddenly is real and it makes the last few months of time seem like a storybook, and you imagine different things that have happened and it just seems like a big game of pretend, and you are scared, like when you fall asleep for a split second at the wheel of a car and once you jerk your head up your heart pounds because you know you were asleep
it is monday and matt telephones because we had decided to add an extra day where we see one another, one that falls between book days, and that is logically the alternate mondays of the mondays that are not book days. he says he wants to read various books about science that i have already read, like hyperspace, and chaos, and then talks about the concept of jamais vu which is the opposite of deja vu, and is the feeling of suddenly things being totally unfamiliar and nothing having any connection to previous experience or memory. this is interesting because it is the precise feeling i had today in the field after i laid my hands on the bicycle
i am wandering through the fan in search of the car. yesterday i left a lot of bread inside it, when i was drunk and stopping off to find a sweater. the car is on meadow street. i feel like i am getting a flu that starts in my brain; i am dizzy and strange inside. make me soup, reader, and then telephone, okay?
yours, amanda L. at 5:59:00 PM [+]
those of us that gathered at the edge of the easter parade, bright faces in the grey sky with pinks and kelly greens and costumed heads, and drank until our hair was wet and fingers a cold red, tumbling over one another, bicycling past the guards waving their arms and lurching grabbing handbars, and those of us that surged around them like water, i mean like an 80's movie where the kids always win and the fussy adults are left open-mouthed; posing for joey's picture after the kick-out: you'll never have this much fun!
i spent my spring break cheating death and making calls, and i told two lies yesterday using advanced technology
i'm right now at work, sad because i like it that way, taking the richmond public schools english grade 10 reading 3rd nine weeks test out of boredom. 13. the poet's style gives this poem a tone of---
and i could spend every sunday in this way: hiding pastel-spraypainted alcohol for my friends amid backyard gardens and behind discarded cushions, riding around dizzily in circles, holding hands with various sorts, wide-eyed at kroger trying to make sense of the bread section, bread and butter, shotgunning beers without a care and toppling over one another helltrack with my jessie drunk and vibrant and singing this is how we do and the mud and the cold and the wet and everyone's hair curling from it, and we can see our breath when we breathe, our voices harsh and hoarse and when we laugh uncontrollably throwing food at each other at food not bombs and the freezing rains; on how i grow exhausted and narcoleptic from the excitement and fall into a deep sleep in a strange bed, the archetype of Falls Asleep at Parties, waking up to the rest of easter day and kids charging through the street with plastic mallets and crashes, when it gets dark and i am quiet and i sat on the porch with a cat in my lap and liza's guitar faintly seeping out from the windows and everything is perfect and o i am so tired.
the apartment is strange and inhospitable and i know that it is my own fault. put my bed back together so it would make sense when we fell asleep into it. its all stirred up and flung to one side, like a puzzle box fallen over
i almost went to jess's last night but oh god i could not sustain anymore anybody. and once i turned and attempted to pilot the bike home, the back wheel immediately let out all of its contents in solidarity with the end of spring break and its methods and so me and the bike held hands and carried each other down cary street and i hummed disjointedly and oh i did not care i did not care, about any single thing.
yours, amanda L. at 11:27:00 AM [+]
you wake up to the phone ringing. its your phone and its maybe somewhere in your bag and you are in jessie kelley's house with a friend who has also fallen asleep there, and it feels like too early. if you lurch out from the covers and search for the ringing, turn to page 31. if you are covered from head to toe in pale dust from climbing around inside the art gallery mansion last night, turn to page 18.
its noelle on the phone and she says we need to come up with a plan for today and you say you know what, will you please just tell me the plan and i will go along with it because i'm a little too confused for formulating and she says here is the plan, i have coffee, eggs, bagels, orange juice and a shower at my house. if you say oh my fucking god. all i need to do is get to my car and then drive over and she says yes then turn to page 25. if you wander outside of the room with a quilt and run straightaway into garren---whose room you were crashing in while he stays with megan at her house---and feel a little embarrassed to be sleeping in his bed without asking and not entirely by yourself and even if the whole scene was as innocent as kittens and kindergarden seriousness! friendship!! you still hasten to explain yourself, turn to page 9.
if you and noelle give up on selling clothes on the street and just dump everything off at U.A. for consignment, give away the cupcakes to strangers and then look at skateboards for awhile, turn to page 40. if you return to her house together only to discover that the boy has taken off to nap somewhere and you still don't know how to find him other than random encounters at parties, and this realization makes you stamp your foot and make a little noise of frustration, turn to page 78. if you then have a delicious brunch, breakfast-2 you might call it, with lil dave and the others, and screw up the lie that zach's your little brother among those that believe it, turn to page 16. if you walk on an adventure to remember where your bicycle is, and put the headphones over zach's ears so he can listen to the song by the kids that died in the van accident and think that it would have been cool to have a little brother for real and its your for-real sister's birthday on tuesday while everyone in richmond is having birthday parties all at once and your thoughts are so scattered in a saturdayesque style, turn to page 56.
more things. hours go by and you are out in the world, in a perfect grey england day, on a saturday easter bike hunt.
if you look at 1028 franklin turn to page 88.
if you look at 1015 park turn to page 49.
if you look in front of alladin's turn to page 20.
if you stop and get a little nervous, and frown and struggle to piece together the evening prior and then in searching your mind for where else the bicycle could have possibly ended up suddenly remember the moment at one of the parties where luke horribles comes up and says his bike is locked to yours and you insist that thats impossible because your bike is somewhere else and he counter-insists that no, no, it is outside, and both of you are convinced that they are right and the other is drunk, because the two of you are crazy drunks, and eventually you both go outside to prove it to one another and you are vindicated because his bike is not locked to your bike, his bike is locked to some unfamiliar bike that is not yours whatsoever, and remembering the entire scene now, saturday afternoon, on the street in front of aladins is making you start to giggle, and if not here then where in heavens is the bike? then turn to page 45.
in front of the art gallery mansion, thats where. i'm off to spraypaint cans for the easter beer hunt tomorrow. meet at the stump, the parking lot next to 1107 grace at 12 noon.
o.k. ya jackals, i'll see you sooner
yours, amanda L. at 4:00:00 PM [+]
the yard sale society of neighbors (the YS, SON!)
noelle and eliza and i combined forces to become a sewing powerhouse, cry-cry-cry (we are three. in poly dresses, blond red and brunette, a goddamn crew, uniting west and east coast zoobomb/cutthroats style, and the team awesome kids with guitars sitting in the sunshine near us well they never be us but i like how from across the yard they yell CUTTHROATS and we yell LEAVE THE BODY ON THE FLOOR without a hitch), and we set up shop on vcu campus, and i sugar-talked the bike cop into letting us stay there,
are you selling stuff?
no. we are accepting donations.
because i don't think you can sell anything on state property.
i don't think so either. that's why we're accepting donations.
and i smiled a junie b smile.
and you ought to stop by if you wake up in time on this friday of fridays. because we have homemade cupcakes with sprinkles and sweet tea. and we are lots of fun. and so are you, reader.
o, where is karen when i need her.
boiler room blow up universe
are we going to fall and crash and fall apart into wreckage this evening? you want to? no, no, no, are we going to run around in the night and avoid the crowds? and make a mess? and scream and yell? you want to? cause i want to.
can you please be someone that wants to hide away? believe me. i want to hide. do you want to hide check yes or no??
yours, amanda L. at 1:21:00 PM [+]
seven minutes until laundry is dry; have i ever written anything in only seven minutes, ever? the written word, you trip me up, and into knots, and everything! everything!
winter arrives forever---no, wait!
i am doin the laundry. i drive it there in the illegal car. pull over to the side of the road when i see polices. slept at the studio after reading a bicycle book for hours and frowning at my pink bike, muttering i will learn how this thing works because if i can't then what good am i thats what i'd like to know i am weary of searching for assistance like a girl in a tower everytime a single thing happens. and that bike, i break the shit out it constantly. and last night at the meeting dennis was so exciting with a list of things like Trexlertown and Riding To Goochland and then jessie with Black Label/New York Trip and i am so so so so like okay, okay, its severely necessary to be severely self-sufficent immediately
i heart my autonomy
new modest mouse album
its passed seven mintues
woke up and made a dress fit and mildly cleaned-up and oh i need a shower and for breakfast was craving a peanut butter and fake bacon bits sandwich like nothing else and all my dirty clothes in a pile and headphones and balancing coffee cup and mistaked up universe and oh i feel like such a mess. but good. hearty and strong-boned. it would be nice to run away on horses this week, you know. and gasoline horses will take us---
yesterday we learned together that pepsi and whiskey will attract our friends like a honey pot. but location is key.
i'm not painting my house. i am hiding from my house.
let me sleep over at your house.
yours, amanda L. at 11:55:00 AM [+]
campfire skin and the eumenides
and round him, all asleep with weariness, lie the furies, not now invisible, but a sight to horrify piety and melt courage. everyone wakes up from what ever corner they had found at the house and i am smart and lucky to have stumbled throughout the house to find garren's always empty bed as well as the extra quilt in it's place and so was blessed with complicated and soothing dreams, the memory-erasing lotus eater kind was it yesterday i was miserable because somebody or other was not in love with me, who was it again? i can't remember the feeling anymore, i feel so rested, i feel so stiched-up and bandaged---- and i don't think you're supposed to wear contact lenses for so many days, and the book thats wound up under my shoulder is bent up at a page that says How else could you speed down a highway without paying close atention to the road and still cheat death? and remember that living things need water!! and these same clothes that smell like fires and i started painting my house but i loathe painting and you know this.
why don't you
1. give me a call
2. come over and visit with me while i paint
3. so i don't hate it as badly
4. you could ever bring over a project to work on
5. or read a book aloud to us
jim straub and i had a long breakfast yesterday morning where we talked about the following things: friendship, seriousness, muna hijazi, real emotion, activism and issues that are close to one's heart, fucked-up relationships, the fact that i'm veronica sawyer suddenly and how did that happen and where more importantly is my JT, hiding away in diners, learning to drive, and people that erase you from their memories.
ohhh. this library. i just looked up and around. i haveto flee and fast. come find me, friends, or at least find the mesages i'm leaving for you around the city---
yours, amanda L. at 12:16:00 PM [+]
so exhausted and giddy and happy in a confused way and sad in a weary way.
we threw two parties in a row at my house.
the second one was where a person almost fell out of the house but instead only broke a window and i have never been so perfectly relaxed at a party in my entire life and did not fret when all was destroyed and kicked them out at 5:30am and ate at fourth street with always-birthday-nathan when it suddenly became morning, and daylight, and the sun came out and it was saturday for real and the slaughterama. and i said, lets go find places to sleep at jessie's so when we wake up at twelve we will already be in the belly of the beast, and not have to walk anywhere and i did sleep, a little, and then everyone filtered in with red smudges on their shoes and we are brave, brave kids who do crazy, crazy things and we do it all day. oh richmond. my favorite part was where we raced frogger and it was so fun we just did it again while all the people were picking up the wreckage and they had to get out of the way and pandora hit me in the back of the head with like a piece of wood i think. pandora! my favorite thing pandora did was holler EVAN! SHE LIKES YOU! at the top of her lungs, at the entire cul-de-sac as we talked about who the hot boys were among the crowd. we were having a mini rivalry after i stole the horribles watergun which led to david stealing it back and then dennis counterstealing it and then the three of us breaking into to pieces, together. accidentally. as we wrestled and attacked one another. no my favorite part was when i won my race and everyone was shocked especially me and my least favorite was when i lost my race and oh god i do not want to become one of the kids that gets upset over races---! ever!
we had bikes that were made of two bikes making them ultra tall like stiltwalking giants and jousting lances tempered with stuffed animals at their ends and how everyone was just together and drinking and saturday and bicylces and we had fireworks at the end and i can't stop from staring at fireworks even though i was desperate to get away and sit and watch and interstate bymyself for awhile. instead i run into lil dave who lets me sleep at his house when mine is still a scrambled pile.
i have mysterious wounds
it keeps going doesn't it
yours, amanda L. at 1:34:00 AM [+]
and by the way, my spring break starts today at 2:30. and you better call me to waste time and goof off, richmond. i don't care if the lot of you are in school. fuck that. call me and lets get things done. for real. productivity that looks like fun. fun that looks like work. work that looks like wasting time. nice circles and patterns that the pattern-driven people can't follow. okay?
yours, amanda L. at 12:56:00 PM [+]
and by the way, last night i was pacing around my swept clean house and thinking in french to avoid thinking about a certain distraction. and at that precise moment i opened up a bazooka joe gum and the comic was in french. and that is an omen that means you're on the right track
yours, amanda L. at 12:49:00 PM [+]
flights to london right now for $205. on iceland air. iceland is where we can swim in the pools heated by the fact that iceland is a volcano.
its raining. lets pretend its england. a particular neighborhood at the edge of the city of cardiff, called tremorfa, and the f is pronounced with a v sound, and its grey and emptied landscape with bright trash, i mean, bright objects scattered allover the field.
there's a picture somewhere, ruth with her camera and grey coat and secret face, and me with a torn-up wedding dress we found in the grass and took turns pulling on over our clothes. my hair is cut the same way it is now.
one time. i was walking to that school, the elementary school in tremorfa where i would sit and listen to kids with thick welsh accents read from shitty young adult novels and pronounce "heart" as "haaaaaaaahrt" and it was early, the early time where i'm awake but never any of my nighttime friends are. and suddenly i run into ninja. and ninja was this guy who i would sometimes run into, sometimes carrying a boombox through the night, sharing chocolate bars in front of the indian grocer across from my house, high on meth or coke at club ivor bach and screaming at a drag queen and getting kicked out choking and scratching, playing chess and talking about politics with the old man that had that junk store in the north part of town----and it was eight am, and ninja is getting of the opposite bus, in the middle of nowhere, same as me.
oh. hey lady! alright?
alright. what are you doing?
i just won a kickboxing championship.
wow. um. congratulations!
ya i fucking ruled it ya.
and i thought it was so surreal, because tremorfa was a secret world. a depressing place, for walking and feeling sad and looking at interesting rubble and trash.
we're watching a movie outside tonight, but maybe inside my house if its rainy. and you're going to be there, because the movie is RAD, and i know you love that movie, every last one of you.
last night i pushed the furniture around the room. andrew and i have practically no stuff at all and we are so pleased by this. listening to the subsonixs and peaches and ESG. when the apartment is just a big open red room and the very first thing anyone thinks to do is grab a bike and ride in circles. or sit in that spinning chair and roll around at which point i say hey, i learned a trick. okay. hold your legs out. once i spin you, pull them close. the cutthroats all filter in with pizzas and beers and teeshirts for screenprinting and the bikes make a barrier to reid's apartment, piled in the outside hallway. and my house is a playground. and that's my favorite way, and i love visitors, and zach brings over eliza who is small and dances around when she is not talking; later she'll do cartwheels across the room until me and noelle and sage are also cartwheeling for the camera too
my bed, alone in the empty room save for andrews bed, has the following things left behind on it: three books---the users guide to the brain, bike cult and aeschylus's orestian trilogy, a copy of tape-op, our two months late electric bill, and a pair of headphones that completely cover one's ears. for some reason when i look at these objects i feel safe inside. they're an assortment of this months Themes.
4. learning new things / sound recording
5. paying bills late
6. retreating from the world
march comes in like a lion and out like an otter
yours, amanda L. at 9:12:00 AM [+]
anda gail lewis 2005. stop crying every day.