Why does a tragedy like 9/11 change everything about air travel, but numerous...– Justine Bateman, hitting the nail on the head. (via coketalk)
I’ve realized lately my gross habit of complaining about everything. The funny thing is, the things I complain about are rarely those that actually bother me. And few things bother me now except those that happened a long time ago which I (successfully, most of the time) avoid thinking about as they have little to no effect on my current daily life, and my own difficulty in accepting a daily...
And I said I know it well That secret that you know But don’t know how to tell It fucks with your honor And it teases your head But you know that it’s good, girl Because it’s running you with red. -Bon Iver
And you told me not to fall in love...
Good thing I didn’t. That is a good thing, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Life is so full of little deaths. Isn’t it?
mitt romney sucks pass it on
So many, so many, so many things I miss.
erinsemine: Spent the majority of today (well, thus far) crying. Death is so foreign to me and life is so incredibly short. Rest in peace, Mando. Mando, you were doing great things. I hope you are resting in peace and you will be missed by all of us. I was truly blessed to know you, even if only for a short time.
Life is Good.
Well, I’m all grown up and awfully normal (on the surface). I have a job as an Assistant Director of Admissions at Brown Mackie College. I have a lab/border collie mix named Chico. I have a one-year-anniversary coming up next week with my fiance. I have an apartment in a complex with a pool and fitness center. I have developed a taste for matching cherry furniture and good wine. ...
some discombobulated thoughts
I’ve stopped writing, and that’s a problem. So while I’m in front of a computer for a hot second, let’s fix this. I am graduated and living in Sandusky, Ohio. I despise this town for a plethora of reasons not worth mentioning right now. I just finished a job interview, and in June, I look forward to renting a houseboat for a week with some of my very best friends, and...
Wonder what you’re looking for…
Yesterday, I graduated
from Denison University, with a Bachelor of Arts in Spanish. I could not be happier or more proud not only of my own accomplishments but all of my classmates’. I’m also incredibly grateful to have been admitted to such an excellent institution that, over the past four years, has changed me only for the better and afforded me so many once-in-a-lifetime opportunities. …And...
Yeah, that’s all. And actually, more specifically, a la mierda con papers that have to do with American political ideology and the way in which it is perpetuated by mass media, and in turn adopted by the American public, specifically in the case of Osama bin Laden’s death, and how that relates to the sixteenth-century colonization in Latin America, and how Bartolome de las Casas and...
Javier Bardem in Biutiful……I have no words.
I’ve been sitting on the quad for an inordinately long period of time, accompanied by a squirrel, trying my best to avoid writing a long, stupid commentary in which I compare my time here to the life of this squirrel, whose name happens to be Joebob, and whose tail, my first year here, was bare and raw - I was convinced he wouldn’t make it through the winter, but now, four years later,...
intento pero nunca te alcanzo.
Just had a poem critiqued by CK Williams. Happy girl.
So, I never see celebrities in public, I never win lottery tickets no matter how small, I never get picked for heads up seven up, and though I’m not terrible at the penny slots, I don’t win any ridiculous amounts of money. But today, in the airport, walking opposite me on one of those moving walkways, was Colin Mochrie. Maybe for some of you that would be “neat,” or...
Things I look forward to this week:
Gambling with my 75-year-old Filipino grandma, unlimited access to the Yankees Entertainment and Sports Network (God bless this state), taking a trip to Hofstra on the LIRR, long talks about spider plants, free time to translate more of Santiago Sylvester’s poetry, seeing Jersey Boys at the Proctor Theater, strufoli, pizza rustica, pettifours, self-indulgent shopping, a train ride along the...
Tonight, I translate
for Miguel González, visiting art curator from Colombia, at his gallery opening. I could not be more nervous.
things i want, volume II
• to understand why i dream about $79 manatees • mate, mate, mate • a personal zumba instructor • to graduate already / to never graduate • a big, slobbery mastiff • a cheat sheet for life • pedro, the bird from rio • to coherently rap in spanish • a glass of layer cake shiraz • three good hair days in a row • amy winehouse back • for rick santorum, chris brown, dave matthews, and robert pattinson...
I got published...
…in the Allegheny Review. This whole poetry thing…well, it just warms my heart. But seriously.
January 24, 2012 > January 24, 2011
Last January, I was looking for a reason to leave. Fresh off the plane from Buenos Aires, I was cultured, worldly, hungry, and resentful of anything labeled “American.” I discovered I was attractive. I dipped my feet into a modern-day fairytale for a weekend, and when the book shut in my face, I stumbled back to what I knew. I was arrogant in my solitude. I was proud of my...
“You cheated? You’ve been cheating this whole time!?” “But I—” “No! No… I’m done.” “I don’t even feel like playing anymore.”
project of the week:
write a coherent poem in spanish. (sharp inhale)
drinkyourjuice: Elderly Animals one of the most beautiful things i’ve seen in a long time
[I’m] really excited for the next Twilight movie. The trailers say...– A Denison grad, on Twilight.
My poems would be so much better if I wrote them with a Montblanc pen. Cough cough.
In Autumn, On The Way
Despite my fervent desire to leave Ohio, someone once told me I would become one of those sentimental assholes who romanticizes the state anyway and encapsulates it into an unjustifiably beautiful picture. …..Nah. In Autumn, On The Way Foot taps gas, calf muscle contracts, and eyes squint toward the bright sun of a Saturday morning: perpetual inhabitant of a transient space. ...
This is why it’s harder to open yourself up than close yourself off.
when life throws you curveballs (and you hit them...
Funny to look back on an old (let’s be honest with ourselves - relatively fresh) outlook on life that you were so sure of, so cocky in. Just when I started to feel like I had figured things out, I ate (most of) my own words. Couldn’t be happier I did. 30. Mar. 2011 “The Like-Minded Couple” It’s time for a little rant. Recently, one of my friends (and...
full of unabashed 13-year-old, big-eyed, swollen-hearted hope. UGH.
Too good not to share.
Mosul by David Hernandez The donkey. The donkey pulling the cart. The caravan of dust. The cart made of plywood, of crossbeam and junkyard tires. The donkey made of donkey. The long face. The long ears. The curled lashes. The obsidian eyes blinking in the dust. The cart rolling, cracking the knuckles of pebbles. The dust. The blanket over the cart. The hidden mortar shells. The veins of...
So why do you fill my sorrow With the words you’ve borrowed From the...– Damien Rice, “Delicate”
Things I want:
• Someone to tell me I will end up as a sweater-vest wearing, hipster professor of creative writing. • To live in a studio apartment with a Great Dane and throw exquisite dinner parties with expensive wine and jazz/swing music. • To move. • To wind up / to not wind up as a thirty-five-year-old spinster with too many cats. • To journal relentlessly, to learn always, to stop unconsciously (!) using...
from The Tinajera Notebook (Forrest Gander)
Through my torso, the smooth diffusion of aguas ardientes. Another shot. Dawn. Fan whir covers distant rooster crow, dog bark cuts through fan whir. That the world has you in its time? Is that what ...
late sunday, boss is on the tv singing some old song about fast cars and luck, dreams of young boys hang in the space between each push of the piano’s pedal. that’s all i got. it’s a weird night. i think i think too much.
I-am-curious play pal with insatiable appetite for roaming the sexual planes...– Take on Sagittarius/Libra pairing courtesy of “Love on a Rotten Day.” Hilarious.
Milford, Ohio (working title for a working poem)
I suppose if I ever had a hometown, it would be Milford: The summer stifle, The blooming humidity of July in southern Ohio. The pockets of lilies in the front yard, early, The butterfly bushes whose flowers never drop Though long since crushed by ice and snow Filling out the season. I suppose it would be also The gas lantern, ignited, like Brilliant egg sacs waiting to burst – The...
Lo que se busca en la noche.
We wrote things to each other. I found your notebook. “We should do it again sometime.” Amanda. Te ves muy bonita. Lastima que te vas. Joel - Pero regreso! Sos lindo. A penguin, a face, fire hearts and snakes. Amor es dolor. Hola como te vas? Hi is this right. Religion. Como ser buena persona. Tengo sueño. No puedo hablar. Helado. Dulce de leche. Vanilla. What’s the word for fork again?...