Have you ever read/seen/heard "Krapp's Last Tape" by Samuel Beckett? It's a wonderful one-act play about an old, sick man who listens to sorta-journal entries he recorded in his youth. I listened to it on vinyl with an ex-of mine when we were very much crazy about each other. It's a beautiful piece.

So anyways, this is my favorite part:




Krapp curses, switches off, winds tape foreward, switches on again)--unshatterable association until my dissolution of storm and night with the light of the understanding and the fire--(Krapp curses loader, switches off, winds tape foreward, switches on again)--my face in her breasts and my hand on her. We lay there without moving. But under us all moved, and moved us, gently, up and down, and from side to side.
Pause.
Past midnight. Never knew such silence. The earth might be uninhabited.
Pause.
Here I end--
Krapp switches off, winds tabe back, switches on again.

.....

I said again I thought it was hopeless and no good going on, and she agreed, without opening her eyes. (Pause.) I asked her to look at me and after a few moments--(pause)--after a few moments she did, but the eyes just slits, because of the glare. I bent over her to get them in the shadow and they opened. (Pause. Low.) Let me in. (Pause.) We drifted in among the flags and stuck. The way they went down, sighing, before the stem! (Pause.) I lay down across her with my face in her breasts and my hand on her. We lay there without moving. But under us all moved, and moved us, gently, up and down, and from side to side.





I hope you're all safe and happy.
xo and whatnot,
Alison.

Am in another fantastic moon, which is funny considering my face is a battlefield, have a lsight stomach ache, and had a tiring weekend. Still, I feel so bouncy -- they should put me in a Neutrogena commercial!

I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I've been listening to "Cinnamon" by Long Winters on repeat -- it's a sincere favorite of mine. I suggest it to all. All their songs are so crazygood because his voice is so dead-on. In "It'll Be A Breeze", he says, "your voice appeals to me, it's exactly how I feel.", and I feel that way about him. Fantastic.

I want to go on a trip. A long drive, road trip, spend a night at a Super 8 -- anything to get the hell away for a couple.

ha, it's a good thing i'm not an indie-nerd or anything... cause, y'know, that'd really SUCK.





Sun through the curtains,
I gave you a sign,
The birds were all quiet,
You were so quiet,
Some hear a call,
Some are the messengers,
I thumb through the pictures,
and know them all.

They said, "Do you remember when you saw her last"
I said, "Her skin is cinnamon, her skin is cinnamon."

I have too many stories, keeping it serious,
Some are collectores, some keep it straight,
It was a hospital,
I was delirious,
I clung to the stretcher
and drew them a heart.

Two gondolas to carry us,
Grand Via was hillarious,
St. Paul was there to marry us,
We lied, "We're already married!"

'Cuz here's proof: we have suntans,
And I spoke up with my new hands,
Listen to my car,
What is it telling us?
Start...please start..please start.

Is it spring where you are?
I waited all winter
chasing the lamp cords back to the wall,
It's a plausable scenario:
I clung the the stretcher,
I drew them a heart.

Saw many (e:peeps) at Hardware for (e:rachel)'s early birthday party, and just wanted to say that it was very, very nice to talk and get hugs from you guys, including (e:flacidness), (e:paul), (e:terry), (e:tina), (e:drchlorine), and (e:lilho). a thousand apologies if i've forgotten anyone, it was lovely to see you too, i'm sure.

now, back to my regularly-scheduled sunday headache.

I feel like I could do some serious damage right now, if I'm not careful. I'm in another superb mood, having read another piece that was well-received in one of my english classes ('Finding Your Writer's Voice', what a crock.), about how I can't wait to be a mother. I also went to Pano's with a teacher and am feeling wonderfully stuffed. My hair has been chopped to a new level of shortness and I look like a cross between Carrie the babysitter from that old Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen TV show, 'Two of A Kind' and Mandy Moore in 'How to Deal'... cause I'm just sweet like that.





So anyways, why I think I'm in a mood to do serious damage:
Because I'm in such a grand mood, and am feeling exceedingly confident in my high heels and gloves with the fingers cut off, I think the smallest thing going wrong could really set me off. For instance, because I, yet again, had detention this week, I was denied my Senior Sign-out privilege (Where, during their free periods, seniors can do whatever they want on Fridays (aka leave school).) by Mrs. Young, this absolutely horrid woman who works in the front office and doesn't like me, not even a smidge. Anyways, this is irrelevant. Mrs. Grace took me to lunch today, as she always does, which does not fall under the category of senior sign-out as it was an advisor-student meeting. So we came back after a perfectly enjoyable meal (She and I are kindred spirits of sorts, sharing Christmas Day as our birthday, though she was born in 1950 and I in 1987.), when Mrs. Young pulled her aside and started talking in a hushed tone like I'm four or something, and giving me accustory looks. I know she was telling Mrs. Grace that it wasn't cool for us to go to lunch when I don't have sign-out, but we've been doing it every other week since September, before sign-out was even instated. Nobody has a problem with it but her, and it's like she thinks it's her place to make Mrs. Grace, who is new to Sem, feel bad about it. Ugh, that just makes me mad.

I think I've convinced my mother that we should find an apartment on/around Elmwood. She initially wanted to move out to Millersport Highway, because that's where UB is and where Dandelions is, where she might get a job. But I can't not live in the city, I'd perish.

In other news, I am listening to my iPod, and this makes me happy. Here's what I've got going (some re guilty pleasues, beware!):

Showtime -- Jon Brion.
Rapture -- Pedro the Lion.
Mix Tape -- Brand New.
Be The Girl -- Aslyn.
Before You Cry -- Camera Obscura.
Glendora -- Rilo Kiley.
These Days -- Chantal Kreviazuk.
Blue Eyes -- Cary Brothers.
The Glory The Glory -- Legendary Pink Dots.
Today Was Okay -- Emiliana Torrini.
Who Am I -- Lily Frost.
Apple Bed -- Sparklehorse. (I'm doing my absolute best to not break out singing this right now, in the middle of class.)
Underwater -- Tegan & Sara.
I'll Have to Say I Love You In A Song -- Jim Croce.
Losing A Whole Year -- Third Eye Blind. (highly underrated band, in my humble opinions.)
Mysteries of Love -- Julee Cruise.
What's In It For Me -- The Walkmen.
Edith Piaf Medley (Live) -- Jeff Buckley.
Sweet Avenue -- Jets to Brazil.
Smackwater Jack -- Carole King.
Forever -- Karl Hohn. (Only song I've ever had written about me... well, the lyrics anyway.)
Your Song -- Elton John.
Love Letters -- Ketty Lester. (I just adore this song.)
Jake -- Lisa Loeb.

I think I could really fall for a boy named Jake. One who wore a lot of plain white tee shirts and ate at Brodo on Sunday afternoons in the sunshine, and wouldn't mind going to family Easter brunches.

Tomorrow night is going to be positively smashing. (Happy early birthday to (e:Rachel), by the way! ... even though I know you don't really come here much, anymore, heh.) I received in the mail 'Pride and Prejudice', the BBC version with Colin Firth (le sigh). It's five hours long. I absolutely cannot wait to watch it, study AP Art History, smok a bowl, and eat.

I would loveloveLOVE to have a period-themed dance party, with slow songs and heels the girls can take off and spiked punch.

Soft Cell ("Tainted Love") does the most amazing cover of "Where Did Our Love Go?" by the Supremes. Absolutely entertaining combination.

Alltogether, am in a strange mood. I'd love to watch "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" tonight, but I think it'd make me too depressed. My mindset is just way too malleable for decent movies.

I feel like doing something physical.
"Let's get physical, physical..."
Oh, Olivia...

    I'm in one fanfuckingtastic mood. AP Art History was cancelled today, which is fabulous because I was in no mood for doing my work last night. A piece I wrote for my friend Carlee was received extremely well today. This is especially important to me, because I wrote it in an environment I'd like to write in more often. So far, the two completed pieces I've worked on in this environment have been my absolute best yet, no discussion. I am thrilled, no other way to say it.

    It's snowing, and I love snow. Everyone should go outside right this minute and look at the snow. If I weren't stuck in this stupid, cramped, radiator-infested schoolhouse, I'd be out there walking in it and wearing it in my hair. I love black coats and sparkly mittens and scarves, they make me feel small. I love winter streets -- every stroll is a walk of independence. I love the cars with their big red brake lights gleaming in the grey of the afternoon, like the christmas tree lights that aren't in living rooms quite yet. I love turning corners in winter, and being able to wear another person for awhile.

    I love crappy music that feels good and seems to play in accordance with my own inner monologue. I'm an idiot, but I'm content and I feel the need to express it and how lovely the light was last night at sundown, and how completely different it is now, but how it's lovely just the same.

I apologise, I'm being incoherent and it's embarrassing. Right now, I feel like there's four roads to anywhere -- four ways to everything.

I love slow dancing and neck-smelling. I'm excited for New Years Eve and champagne and fizziness in my stomach and my head for kissing at midnight. I'm happy, and I really need to stop because this is humiliating, but so be it. I feel like I shouldn't be missing chances, shouldn't let the fact my parents are in court right now get to me. I want so much better than this.

    So here it is, let's do it: let's celebrate our Christmas. I'm ready and willing to be a happy, good woman. I'm going to do my best to try and balance the two.

    God, I need to kill myself.

moral of the story: champagne gets you slobbery-ass crunk... which means it's time to go see harry potter!

Well, it's a good thing I'm not stressed out or anything... cause, y'know, that'd really suck.

I can't deal with this college thang, I can't do it. I don't know how any of it works or how the money works or where it comes from, or who I send things to or when I need to send them in by, I am just completely clueless. Nobody in my family has ever gone to college before, except for my sister who went to a community college for about 2 weeks and majored in dance.

I cannot do this. I want to take a year off, but that seems counter-productive because isn't that just putting off getting a decent job and being financially self-sufficient for another year? I can't do that. I mean, I'm just trying to claw my way out of this stupid divorce thing, and I don't want to depend on my father's child support, or my mother (who cannot seem to keep a job). And then, how am I supposed to move out without money? I can't do that. What if I meet someone, and want to shack up or something? I won't be able to do it without money to hold up my half of things.

This is so fucking frustrating. Let's go to bed and never come out.

Fuck college, mang. Can't I just utilize my feminine wiles and marry rich?

I am way too stressed out, as my acne will attest to. My face is a battlefield (forgive the Pat reference) -- nobody wants to poke this.

And, to make things worse, Thursday is Thanksgiving, the Day of Family. Or wait, is that Christmas? 33 days until that/my eighteenth birthday. Have I mentioned that I'm skipping Christmas this year?

Anyone who really knows me knows that I love Christmas. Ohmygosh I LOVE SNOW. It's so pretty and magical and makes my gut do little girl flip-flops. It's romantic and perfect and I love it. As much as sharing my birthday with that of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ sucks balls, I've always felt this really intimate connection with the holiday spirit, and it's been a lifelong dream of mine, recently magnified, to have a lovely family to share it with. This just seems to be getting further and further away. I'm obviously not going to get it as a child, so I've turned my thoughts to having it as a wife, or mother, but that's so far into the future that it's got me awfully anxious. And then, will it even happen at all? I have this sinking feeling that if I ever actually trick a decent guy into marrying me, that it won't last long, or that we won't be happy. I'm so amazingly high maintenance, and at times I can be downright bi-polar to be around. I'll need some serious Love Potion No. 9 to pull that one off.

But I digress. I want to write. I want to have money enough to be comfortable and have a huge-ass family, at least five kids. I want a little recognition for my writing. This all seems so unattainable. Maybe I'm just kidding myself. Maybe I should just give it up and major in Art History or Women's Studies and leave writing as a little girls affectation. This decision is coming up, as is Christmas.

I'm skipping Christmas, this year. My 18th birthday shall remain intact, for obvious reasons, but Christmas the Holiday shall not exist as 95 Middlesex Road. (Read this as me smoking myself to sleep and just not being awake the entire day.) No presents, no family, no tree, no Vince Guaraldi, no Harry Connick Jr., no special breakfast with fried potatoes, nothing.

And to you who was planning on presents -- nuh-uh. I'm putting my combat boot down on this one. Usually I'm such a push-over, but I am determined to be adamant about no Christmas this year. Let's just let it pass and work on having a great one next year, huh?

This has been such a fucktard of a post, I apologize. Maybe I should throw in some form of humor SOMEWHERE, huh?

Break for Musical Montage!!

Last dance, last chance for love. Yes it's my last chance for romance tonight. WHOA-HO I need you by me, beside me, to guide me, to hold me, to scold me 'cause when I'm bad, I'm so, so bad. Let's dance the last dance tonight...

</Musical Montage>

Yeah, that wasn't very humorous, but that song has been stuck in my head likeCRAZY. Time to finish up my last three hours of school before my 5-day break. For once, I am not at all excited for break. No one will be around, and I have mad shit to do, which will leave me stranded in my attic-room with nothing to distract me from college-thoughts.

Okay, I promise never to make a whiny post like this ever again.
No, really, I promise.
Honest.
Let's shake hands, or play Sexual Checkers on it or something.

This post is going to be so fucking disjointed. I apologise.

So. I have to say that this was one of the best weekends of my life. I had a genuinely pleasant time, until Saturday night, of course, when I went to (e:ThePink) and got more drunk than I've ever been... like ever. It was the first time I've ever puked from drinking. I've been welcomed to the club.

Men are disgusting. Yes, I was trashed, but I wasn't so stupid enough as to not notice guys trying to take advantage of my friends and me after a few drinks. Maybe we were asking for it, but I'm still repulsed. I always see things that people do and think, "What the FUCK? Where in hell did they get the idea that it's their place to do THAT? I would NEVER do something like that." People are gross, myself included.

I detest the acrobatics of dating. I vote we all knock on the object of our affections door and tell them what's what and see what happens. Of course, I'll never have the cajones to do this, but anyone who does has serious respect with me. (Or, as Ali G would say, Respeckt.) If I ever work up the nerve and manage to hold onto it, someone's getting good and given a confession, Alison-style. No wussing out involved. I've got htings to say, hot and cold, but I'm scared shitless that I'll never have the balls to lay out the cold, even though that's incredibly unfair. I think I'm even more scared that one day I will spill it, and then there'll be nothing left for the hot stuff. I'm just going to try and ignore it, now. Maybe, by the time we're good and older, I'll have forgotten and will be able to have a nice life... or something. For now, I kind of feel sick with guilt.

(Sorry if this post is getting lame.)

I dyed my hair earlier today. The blonde was making me dumber. This is the closest I've been to my natural hair color in years. (see stupid pictures below.)

I really like the song 'Co-Pilot', by Letters to Cleo.

I got a call a little bit ago from an ex, telling me that he's leaving for Iraq in 13 days and that he needs some of his shit back.
We barely dated, but for some reason, this call really upset me. It gave me that pain in the bottom of your gut you got when you were naughty and your parents made you sit in the corner. And I haven't even done anything wrong! He was an immature jackass, and I patted myself on the back repeatedly for ditching him.
I guess it's just because I'm stressed out. School, divorce, male-related issues... kill myself. So anyways, I did a gloriously recockulous Myspace photo shoot to make myself feel better. Here is a brief sample -- to see the rest, you'll just have to friend me, damnit.
(There's pretty much nothing else, actually, so don't sweat it.)

Holy ex-boyfriend, Batman! The KARL has just commented on one of my new Myspace pictures! Is this the night of boyfriends or WHAT?





... because I always do pictures with a hand or two in the foreground.



... because I'm just sweet like this.



... because I basically crack myself up.


oh, (e:lilho)! Here is that picture...
And, for everyone elses clarification, this is a picture of Karl, my one and only uber serious boyfriend, mostly because he's the only guy I've ever met who's been hopped up on enough drugs to take me on full-time. This is the single best picture I've ever seen of him... no joke.





Let's just end this week now... I kind of make myself sick, sometimes... let's just crawl into bed and never come out again, 'kay?

i joined myspace yesterday.

... i'm already addicted. anyone else on there? wanna be my friend?

i know you do.