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what a miserable morning.
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i watched waking life last night with fi and danny mr. big san francisco pants. i was delighted at the scene with ethan hawke and julie delpy that was like an extension of before sunrise, and also the night scene where there's a "hotel kirsten" sign in the distance. i tried to find it, but the only answer i came up with is that it may be in germany somewhere, due to the number of german pages came up on the search. i was less than delighted with the idea of reading any philip k. dick after hearing about him from the movie.
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Saturday, April 23rd, 2005
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geneva's party was quiet until about 12:30. russell, julie, geneva, sherman, fi and i played a card game called idiot that i lost both times - thus, i was the idiot. more people started showing up later, and i fell asleep on and off on their couch. we decided to leave, since linda needed the car for work in the morning. once we got home, tom started watching family business (a show about some family that makes porn i'm guessing) i left the living room and curled up on casi's bed talking to rick like i did a lot last summer. i was really sleepy and took my shoes off in middle of the hall and left them there, which i thought was perfectly justifiable then.
woke up to fi holding up plates of breakfast. i got up and ate with her. the windows are open, the house is airing out and sparklehorse is playing. i just put a chocolate cake in the oven for geneva's birthday. someone showed up at the door wanting to see hope, but fi sent them off since they're not here. tom walked through the door and said "i missed norma!" and it clicked. my mom's friend norma works at the casino, she's tom's friend from work, who is always talking to tom about her bipolar friend. she's the same woman who called me and lectured on how i ought to be a better daughter. another one of the numerous people who have tried to get involved in our lives and play doctor, another who simply doesn't understand how our relationship or our lives work.
but now i'm going to get back to mendocino and other short stories.
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Thursday, April 21st, 2005
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the usefulness of an empty darkroom at my disposal for an extra three hours tomorrow morning, versus the possibility of sleeping in a couple extra hours probably = hello, relaxation.
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i have that, how do you solve a problem like maria, song from the sound of music stuck in my head. how do you catch a cloud and pin it down?
if i had a book on electricity, tonight i would sit down and read it. is that strange? i want to write about electricity, and i would like to know everything there is about an electrical current. it would be a powerful/humbling feeling to be a technician, working on wires. i get really bored forcing a preoccupation with reading, and words and on taking pictures for this project i want to do, because i'm thinking on it too hard. i had a discussion on what is the purest artistic medium, and it wasn't really concluded. but i say since everything's a variable when you're taking a picture, it seems more viable that photography is a medium that is intended to say something, and has a voice of its own, rather than existing for the purpose of presenting a truth. and that brought me to the question of anything i've done, and how i don't know why i'm not doing something that means something more to me, so i can present what is my truth (what is a voice to others).
it's not a question of whether i have anything worthwhile to tell, though the opposite answer of that always gets in the way of taking another step. i feel like i'm learning how to walk, and i've only just figured out how to shuffle and i'm kicking up sand as i try and lift up my feet. i want to go swimming! it's the usefulness of urgency, of channelling it.
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morning has to be the slowest time of day. when it was gray and muddy like this on friday, hannah and i drank champag-na at six dollars a bottle and she upset dylan, and tried to get me to fall asleep with her on kyle's couch. while she was drunk, when dylan didn't follow us back and kyle walked so far ahead of us, it was obviously a ploy to get us to go home. besides that i'm generally uncomfortable sleeping at the house of someone i don't know well, my clothes were soaked and i can be hypersensitive to discomfort when i'm drunk. i also dislike being criticized for what my body does when i have been drinking, such as being uncomfortable.
it took too much doing to convince her to go home with me. when i woke up in the morning in her bed, i was at a peace of mind that's remarkable when it comes to me sleeping in this state, and by state i mean washington. i would have liked to repeat it at geneva and sherman's place saturday night, but i had to go home.
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Tuesday, April 12th, 2005
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| Time: | 10:47 pm. |
| Mood: | missing. |
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i remembered the camera finally one night while rick was at work and i stayed up all night, and sat out on the patio and watched the sun come up for the first time in a long time.
( & )
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| Time: | 12:32 pm. |
| Mood: | warm. |
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so i knew that a snowstorm was supposed to be coming in, but i've never had much heart for snow predictions (since in washington weathermen predict them all the time, and we haven't gotten more than an inch or two that melts very shortly thereafter for a long time). i woke up ready to pack my things and head up to denver, but looked out the window first. i couldn't see anything but white past the balcony railing directly outside. i knew it was supposed to be severe, but i really didn't expect a blizzard.
not only is the airport closed, the highway to denver is closed. rick called and tried to book a new flight home over the phone, and we were thinking tomorrow. but no, the first available flight is on wednesday. not only that, but we can't book the flight over the phone, rick is supposed to be present at the ticket counter at the airport. obstacle 1 - roads closed. obstacle 2 - he works the next two nights in a row, leaving very little time to go to denver and re-book my flight. obstacle 3 - there are loads of people trapped at the airport right now, and once it's open again they'll be the first in line to book flights, so i may not even be out of here on wednesday.
the problem this presents is that this is my finals week in creative writing class, and i'm guaranteed to at least be missing over half of it. i was maxed on absences in that class, too.
but there's absolutely nothing i can do about it, so i'm going to enjoy my extra time. :)
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Thursday, April 7th, 2005
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food seems ridiculous. sometimes i just want to live on coffee and books, like sartre but without the cigarettes. if there's any time i hate my body, it's on a full stomach.
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| Time: | 11:24 pm. |
| Mood: | copying poems is soothing. |
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Is/Not
i.
Love is not a profession
genteel or otherwise
sex is not dentistry
the slick filling of aches and cavities
you are not my doctor
you are not my cure,
nobody has that
power, you are are merely a fellow/traveller.
Give up this medical concern,
buttoned, attentive,
permit yourself anger
and permit me mine
which needs neither
your approval nor your surprise
which does not need to be made legal
which is not against a disease
but against you,
which does not need to be understood
or washed or cauterized,
which needs instead
to be said and said.
Permit me the present tense.
ii.
I am not a saint or a cripple,
I am not a wound; now I will see
whether I am a coward.
I dispose of my good manners,
you don't have to kiss my wrists.
This is a journey, not a war,
there is not outcome,
I renounce predictions
and aspirins, I resign the future
as I would resign an expired passport:
picture and signature are gone
along with holidays and safe returns.
We're stuck here
on this side of the border
in this country of thumbed streets and stale buildings
where there is nothing spectacular
to see and the weather is ordinary
where love occurs in its pure form only
on the cheaper of souvenirs
where we must walk slowly,
where we may not get anywhere
or anything, where we keep going,
fighting our ways, our way
not out but through.
Margaret Atwood
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Wednesday, April 6th, 2005
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i got drunker than i should ever get last night. i think i have the potentiality of being a very mean drunk. i guess i yelled at rick after he got up and got me water, that i threw up all the water he gave me. i remember doing that, but not yelling. i remember i felt apologetic that i threw up that water, like it was symbolic for rejecting his help. i was really grateful that he got up and did that for me, and that though he was mad, he wasn't mean about it. he had every right to be. i should never get drunk alone again. i don't even remember being as angry as i must have been. i'm not such a good person. i'm a wallower. but really, the affection of the past couple of days has been the best thing i could have imagined. things are good, i'm just not very good at appreciating them.
ima_zombie: Megan's been spelling her name wrong her entire life and didn't know it.
kirsten : oh my god.
ima_zombie: her mom told her her name was spelled "Megan", but they got a copy of her birth certificate and not only is it spelled "Meagan" (Michelle was on pain killers when she filled it out), her last name isn't Wells, it's Velarde-Wells. her parents weren't married yet and they decided to give her a hyphenated name.
ima_zombie: all her life she's thought her name was Megan Wells, but really it's Meagan Velarde-Wells.
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i like
talking walks
the first few minutes/hours with a person you've missed
not sleeping
not believing in the subconscious
intimate quiet
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Saturday, April 2nd, 2005
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it was a trial of patience getting here yesterday. i wore a skirt and some flats since it was such a nice day, but only when i got there did seattle decide to start acting like itself. it was a battle against friction getting up to second avenue with flat shoes, at such a steep angle and the bricks running and slippery with water. i was soaked and frazzled by the time i got on the bus, and more wary of the other riders than usual. a guy on the bus back in poulsbo didn't know the meaning of personal space, asked too many questions, smelled like garbage and insisted on singing "see you when i get there" when he saw my suitcase. but the guy on the seattle bus didn't say anything at all, just listened to rider on the storm loudly on his headphones and i listened next to him as we pulled out from beneath the storm clouds.
after a delay, a malfunctional flap on the plane's wing and having to change planes at sea-tac, finally got here at about one. it took two hours to drive to the springs. i only drove half of it, but i was so fuzzy and afraid we were going to crash, going at 80 like that. i'm still so sleepy. and too full, after having gotten a little overzealous with a subway sandwich since i hadn't eaten anything since about 5 yesterday.
right now i'm reading a good book, i'm listening to good music, there's a comfy bed to sleep in, and a rick who'll be home in the morning.
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Thursday, March 31st, 2005
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Wednesday, March 30th, 2005
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it was a good day.
and tomorrow i pack and get ready to go back to colorado after school on friday for my entire spring break.
first off - a student appreciation breakfast. in light of all the recent deaths and accidents in our school, among both students and staff, it was a nice thing. then, i made a print that aubbie actually liked. it was a print of my cat, sebastian, which is okay - but i'm still a bit miffed that it's that one she prefers. also taught french at the elementary school again and the kids were so smart.
hung out at the store with hannah before catching the bus to the ferry, walked all over trying to find seattle u's dorms, then finally! walking around campus made me really want to go to university next year, ha, specifically seattle u. but i think i'm anxious to get to college, period.
dear ana,
you are lovely, and after having spent time with you it REALLY shocked me that you are so self-effacing. you have a very excitable energy and an honest eagerness that made hanging out with you so much fun. it was especially fun making friends with the owner of 'twice owned tales', and walking around broadway. i like you, please come back to seattle again.
<3
kirsten
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fuck all this papers being eaten by the computer, my mother losing her pin number for my FAFSA & selling her car (which she was supposed to give me the money for) and handing over the title before being paid & her suggestion that i'm a plus size girl, barely sleeping every night i actually need it and sleeping fine the nights it doesn't matter, my intestines, the beautiful envelope full of photo paper i bought last year that i just found at my mom's being exposed to light so it's ruined.
i'm really actually not that mad. it just has to be that i'm a moron and that this is only fitting.
i want someone to take me out for waffles then home, no substitutes allowed, and kiss my eyelids before tucking me into bed.
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rick suggested staying in colorado this summer and getting a job down there. it sounds good to me.
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ben gibbard at the showbox. january 14th. scanned from my contact sheet, i think the paper was dusty. too contrasty. :(
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tweedish's journal
