Things I want to do before I die. Numbered, as it will be easier to
reference as I check them off. I mean this in an entirely
positive-goal-setting way, and I do not mean in any way that as I
finish these things I am closer to death. No self destruction, just
things that I want and need to do.
1. Turn in a piece of professional writing in the font, Wingdings.
2. Get on a train, and just, go.
3. Slow dance to the songs on my slowdance list.
4. Wallpaper a room.
5. Get an antique bathtub.
6. Lay in a field/meadow with flowers in the purple-pink spectrum.
7. Tell my deepest desire to someone, and have them not react negatively.
8. Act in something or another as a femme fatale.
9. Get a pet tarantula.
10. Pay homage to my heroes.
11. Find out if whales are, in fact, real.
12. Maybe be in a Lord of the Flies situation...maybe...
13. Publish something, (successfully)
14. Grow cabbage.
15. Make borscht.
16. Enjoy borscht.
17. Find a situation where one of my ridiculous skills applies. (I.e.
calculator improvisation, extemporaneous construction)
18. Grow my hair long.
19. Go to a premiere/opening of something, where I have to wear a gown.
20. Never ride in a helicopter.
21. Eat another meal in France.
22. Give each of my friends something they have always wanted.
23. See Kafka's home.
24. Use the word "consolidate" in a cool way.
25. Have a showing of art where everything looks shabby, makeshift, and tacky.
5.07.2010
I had this dream.
First thing's first. I haven't put things up here lately for two reasons. The first reason is that I have been working on a website to show my arts. This is it. The second is that I actually have been writing things and having elaborate ideas, but I all the sudden had an urge to censor them. It wasn't like a "mature audience only" thing, 'cause this one is going to be for mature audiences, but more of a "wait, ali thinks this?" I don't know if embarrassed is the right word, I think I'm just not ready to tell the internet box. Either way, I had this really wacky dream. I am going to describe it as it happened, as well as I can, probably with pictures as well.
I was in the science building at my school, but it was made of darker brick and dark, rotting wood. There were a wide set of stairs leading up to the double door entrance. I went up the stars slowly, and went into what seemed to be a biology class where we were doing dissections of some unreal creature. The room was a dark, muted green, and poorly lit. I sat in the back and apparently was a new student.
I was told to go find supplies, scalpels, I think, and I went down a staircase on the left wing. When I got the stairs, however, I was in a sort of basement-warehouse. Cement floors, tons of cardboard boxes stacked every which way, and it smelled like a mixture of birdseed, rain, and disinfectant. There were a few older women in pink and purple surgical scrubs walking about this warehouse, and they yelled that I shouldnt be down there. As I looked around for a way to exit, I saw a brown dog chasing a tabby cat. The stairs in which I had come down, had partially disappeared, in that, the lower steps no longer were there, so I couldn"t reach the rest of them.
I started to run through the warehouse looking for an exit, when I ran into (literally) a male figure who was taller than me and had a warm demeanor. He took me up a dark staircase that outside light was peeking through, like dawn light, and everything had a smoky-yellow look. We went into an empty biology classroom, with high lab tables with black surfaces, and glass and wood cabinets filled with beakers, and preserved organs in opalescent liquid. He smelled pretty good, clean mostly, but good. He picked me up and sat me on one of the tables so our faces were even, we took of our outer layers of clothes, and we had sex like that. He found me a lab coat to put on, because my shirt was no longer present, and we walked back to the class where I was supposed to bring supplies. The students in the classroom looked happy to see us together, as we were arm in arm, my head leaned against him.
The class ended rather quickly and I was by myself again going down the wide, entrance stairs to a patch of lawn on the left. The sun set immediately, and everything was a ruddy, purple-orange. The sky looked like bombs were dropping, and a group of students were playing with a giant, red, green, yellow, and blue parachute-sheet. In unison, they would fling the sheet upward, and then pull it down quickly, creating a little bubble where you could hide until the air escaped. I let go, and my part of the parachute flew up into the air, and the professor pushed me onto the parachute, where I consequentially flew into the air and landed on my head.
I was suddenly in a very dim and shadowy room full of people that, in this situation, I suppose, I knew quite well. We were all about the same age, though I was one of the oldest. We were gathered in sort of a last-soiree-ever, because we knew that we were about to fight in a battle. Whatever we were about to fight was not human, or at least partially unhuman, they were dressed in jade-green, and approached us in groups of three very slowly. We were outrageously outnumbered, and we knew this, and suddenly two mutual friends decided they would get married, although, situationally, we knew this was against the law.
Another thing that was against the law was breaking glass. However it was hard not to do because none of the glasses we had were made with flat bottoms. If a glass broke or you had been married, you would be stabbed in the back until you bled to death. I guess there was also a loop-hole in which you could be married if you had a child, and I tried to convince a lady that I had a daughter, and that is why I considered being married. Though, I had no evidence of this desire to marry until that point.
The enemy began to attack, and many people, including myself, moved to the back of the dark room, in sort of a stampede, because we were the weaker of the group. Though, outside, and technically behind us were creatures a bit like fat goblins that were pretty powerful and they were prepping their attack. The enemy launched something like fire at our group and we somehow turned them into bushes and they fell to the ground.
The floor dropped out below us and the strongest levitated, but most of us fell into an abyss that was bright and gold. We could slightly see the strongest levitating, and fighting the approaching enemy, but eventually, they faded out of view as we fell down.
I awoke.
Wacky right? Not embellished at all. Seriously. And not even hiding any details, I really didn't recognize any of these people, though they seemed to have familiar traits, like haircolor or scent.
I was in the science building at my school, but it was made of darker brick and dark, rotting wood. There were a wide set of stairs leading up to the double door entrance. I went up the stars slowly, and went into what seemed to be a biology class where we were doing dissections of some unreal creature. The room was a dark, muted green, and poorly lit. I sat in the back and apparently was a new student.
I was told to go find supplies, scalpels, I think, and I went down a staircase on the left wing. When I got the stairs, however, I was in a sort of basement-warehouse. Cement floors, tons of cardboard boxes stacked every which way, and it smelled like a mixture of birdseed, rain, and disinfectant. There were a few older women in pink and purple surgical scrubs walking about this warehouse, and they yelled that I shouldnt be down there. As I looked around for a way to exit, I saw a brown dog chasing a tabby cat. The stairs in which I had come down, had partially disappeared, in that, the lower steps no longer were there, so I couldn"t reach the rest of them.
I started to run through the warehouse looking for an exit, when I ran into (literally) a male figure who was taller than me and had a warm demeanor. He took me up a dark staircase that outside light was peeking through, like dawn light, and everything had a smoky-yellow look. We went into an empty biology classroom, with high lab tables with black surfaces, and glass and wood cabinets filled with beakers, and preserved organs in opalescent liquid. He smelled pretty good, clean mostly, but good. He picked me up and sat me on one of the tables so our faces were even, we took of our outer layers of clothes, and we had sex like that. He found me a lab coat to put on, because my shirt was no longer present, and we walked back to the class where I was supposed to bring supplies. The students in the classroom looked happy to see us together, as we were arm in arm, my head leaned against him.
The class ended rather quickly and I was by myself again going down the wide, entrance stairs to a patch of lawn on the left. The sun set immediately, and everything was a ruddy, purple-orange. The sky looked like bombs were dropping, and a group of students were playing with a giant, red, green, yellow, and blue parachute-sheet. In unison, they would fling the sheet upward, and then pull it down quickly, creating a little bubble where you could hide until the air escaped. I let go, and my part of the parachute flew up into the air, and the professor pushed me onto the parachute, where I consequentially flew into the air and landed on my head.
Another thing that was against the law was breaking glass. However it was hard not to do because none of the glasses we had were made with flat bottoms. If a glass broke or you had been married, you would be stabbed in the back until you bled to death. I guess there was also a loop-hole in which you could be married if you had a child, and I tried to convince a lady that I had a daughter, and that is why I considered being married. Though, I had no evidence of this desire to marry until that point.
The enemy began to attack, and many people, including myself, moved to the back of the dark room, in sort of a stampede, because we were the weaker of the group. Though, outside, and technically behind us were creatures a bit like fat goblins that were pretty powerful and they were prepping their attack. The enemy launched something like fire at our group and we somehow turned them into bushes and they fell to the ground.
The floor dropped out below us and the strongest levitated, but most of us fell into an abyss that was bright and gold. We could slightly see the strongest levitating, and fighting the approaching enemy, but eventually, they faded out of view as we fell down.
I awoke.
Wacky right? Not embellished at all. Seriously. And not even hiding any details, I really didn't recognize any of these people, though they seemed to have familiar traits, like haircolor or scent.
4.23.2010
"If...then" hypotheses. Speculations.
"If you want something badly enough, then it will happen."
Is that true? But couldn't it also mean that one will not necessarily get that particular happening, that maybe it will just be the chance for that opportunity to happen. I am making sort of a cosmic inquisition. In which case, it may work out better for me if I were Spanish circa, oh I don't know, 1470?
"If you want something badly enough, and you happen to be a Spanish Christian in 1470, then the possibility of happening will be presented in a situation."
But I'm not that religious. In that, I've never killed anyone, and moreover, I wouldn't do it based on a higher power. I guess faith directly applies. Having faith, I'm told, invests a little bit of a positive reputation among cosmic-worker-bees.
"If you want something bad enough, especially if you are involved in the Spanish Inquisition, and you have faith, then the situation in which your if-want comes true will take place."
So what about the "then"? Can I manipulate..no, I hate that word, can I pull strings with the then portion? I guess not really. That is the part up to the beehive, but the likelihood percentages...is it 50%? 30% Can I sway it to 75, maybe 60% by batting my eyes or constructing a pout? I am not saying all-out ruttish persuasion, but if I happened to blink my eyes graciously...Well, here's where I'm at..
"If you want something badly enough, may or may not be a Spanish Inquisitor, have faith, and wear mascara, then there is possibly a more than 50% chance that you will receive the opportunity to have your if-want coming true."
I should probably just ask.
Is that true? But couldn't it also mean that one will not necessarily get that particular happening, that maybe it will just be the chance for that opportunity to happen. I am making sort of a cosmic inquisition. In which case, it may work out better for me if I were Spanish circa, oh I don't know, 1470?
"If you want something badly enough, and you happen to be a Spanish Christian in 1470, then the possibility of happening will be presented in a situation."
But I'm not that religious. In that, I've never killed anyone, and moreover, I wouldn't do it based on a higher power. I guess faith directly applies. Having faith, I'm told, invests a little bit of a positive reputation among cosmic-worker-bees.
"If you want something bad enough, especially if you are involved in the Spanish Inquisition, and you have faith, then the situation in which your if-want comes true will take place."
So what about the "then"? Can I manipulate..no, I hate that word, can I pull strings with the then portion? I guess not really. That is the part up to the beehive, but the likelihood percentages...is it 50%? 30% Can I sway it to 75, maybe 60% by batting my eyes or constructing a pout? I am not saying all-out ruttish persuasion, but if I happened to blink my eyes graciously...Well, here's where I'm at..
"If you want something badly enough, may or may not be a Spanish Inquisitor, have faith, and wear mascara, then there is possibly a more than 50% chance that you will receive the opportunity to have your if-want coming true."
I should probably just ask.
4.21.2010
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat...
I know that I have mentioned before the importance and significance of hand-holding, at least to me. It disgusts me when I see it only because I see it as a sign of happiness in love. Unhappy couples don't hold hands. Jubilant, love-electrocuted folks lace fingers. When will this happen? My hands do not seem equipped for holding.
(Can I mention the oddity of the conversation I am overhearing? It seems to be a tutoring session involving algebra word-problems. This particular one involves plotting consumption of hamburgers and marginal utility.)
There is this mythological hero that I have. He's really great. And someday, unexpectedly, he's going to hold my hand, and have a picnic with sandwiches and ants. The ants are okay, they just want to picnic also. It will feel right, and we will go whale watching (to prove whales exist. I am skeptical.), and collect important things. I suspect he will look good in any light. And he will even like my feet. And he wont make me swim. Ever. He will also know when I'm joking, and when to laugh at me. We will take each other as seriously as we should, and live a harmonious co-existance. Raunchily, I would hope he understands my sex-drive. So, darling, I know you exist, and please know that I also exist and have discovered your presence in this universe. (It is important to distinguish among universes, because in one, we are already together. In another we are both dead. In yet another, he doesn't know I exist. IN a possible other, we are interspecies- Groundhog and Lobster, star-crossed lovers...) Most importantly, we will hold hands.
Aside from the possible innuendos and inside jokes, this music video. Makes me more cheerful. Silly.
From the overheard conversation previously introduced, I now can't stop picturing hamburgers on a graph. I will make this picture. Or try to, on my shoddy Microsoft-paint-for-Mac-freeware.
(Can I mention the oddity of the conversation I am overhearing? It seems to be a tutoring session involving algebra word-problems. This particular one involves plotting consumption of hamburgers and marginal utility.)
There is this mythological hero that I have. He's really great. And someday, unexpectedly, he's going to hold my hand, and have a picnic with sandwiches and ants. The ants are okay, they just want to picnic also. It will feel right, and we will go whale watching (to prove whales exist. I am skeptical.), and collect important things. I suspect he will look good in any light. And he will even like my feet. And he wont make me swim. Ever. He will also know when I'm joking, and when to laugh at me. We will take each other as seriously as we should, and live a harmonious co-existance. Raunchily, I would hope he understands my sex-drive. So, darling, I know you exist, and please know that I also exist and have discovered your presence in this universe. (It is important to distinguish among universes, because in one, we are already together. In another we are both dead. In yet another, he doesn't know I exist. IN a possible other, we are interspecies- Groundhog and Lobster, star-crossed lovers...) Most importantly, we will hold hands.
Aside from the possible innuendos and inside jokes, this music video. Makes me more cheerful. Silly.
From the overheard conversation previously introduced, I now can't stop picturing hamburgers on a graph. I will make this picture. Or try to, on my shoddy Microsoft-paint-for-Mac-freeware.
4.16.2010
Options.
I actually almost always write the post titles first. Not today.
I feel like a bad person, yet at the same time I'm vindicated by the fact that nobody's perfect. It's inappropriate, however, to use that in an argument. It makes me facetious. And I refuse to apologize for that. At least when it prevents me from clubbing a face. But I'm not a bad person, not entirely, at least.
Several years ago, I used to think "gray areas" were a great place to be. I no longer agree with that at all. Yet, I wouldn't be in black nor white, either. I think I'd be in sea-foam green. Call it ridiculous, but there is a third option among the black/white, gray, and sea-foam green, that is, that black/white is defined, gray is intentionally undefined, and sea-foam green, is, well, inconclusive. Ambiguous and equivocal. It's the difference between holding hands, eating chocolate, and laying on a park bench and comparing seasons. I did not hold hands with anyone today, tangibly.
The backlight of my screen is making my onset migraine headache much worse than it needs to be; I suffer for you, readers! Just letting you know. And I love you. As much as I love honesty and kept promises (that's a ton, note previous entries).
Still thinking about a title.
Final thoughts. Why do something completely differently than you're used to, hoping for better results? It is like making pancakes when you UNQUESTIONABLY prefer waffles. And the first batch always sucks. I did tangibly eat waffles.
I feel like a bad person, yet at the same time I'm vindicated by the fact that nobody's perfect. It's inappropriate, however, to use that in an argument. It makes me facetious. And I refuse to apologize for that. At least when it prevents me from clubbing a face. But I'm not a bad person, not entirely, at least.
Several years ago, I used to think "gray areas" were a great place to be. I no longer agree with that at all. Yet, I wouldn't be in black nor white, either. I think I'd be in sea-foam green. Call it ridiculous, but there is a third option among the black/white, gray, and sea-foam green, that is, that black/white is defined, gray is intentionally undefined, and sea-foam green, is, well, inconclusive. Ambiguous and equivocal. It's the difference between holding hands, eating chocolate, and laying on a park bench and comparing seasons. I did not hold hands with anyone today, tangibly.
The backlight of my screen is making my onset migraine headache much worse than it needs to be; I suffer for you, readers! Just letting you know. And I love you. As much as I love honesty and kept promises (that's a ton, note previous entries).
Still thinking about a title.
Final thoughts. Why do something completely differently than you're used to, hoping for better results? It is like making pancakes when you UNQUESTIONABLY prefer waffles. And the first batch always sucks. I did tangibly eat waffles.
4.07.2010
Hi hey, hello.
How long has it been now? There's something different about the concept of "estranged." It's not one of those normal-loss feelings, where you wave goodbye, weep, and carry on. It's different because they're still bumbling about someplace. And it's sort of uneasy to think that they may never think of you, and sort of eerie that they might. I think the hardest thing is dealing with artifacts. Once a pair is estranged, their artifacts become headstones. And there's not much use for headstones except for making you sad, or rubbing. I guess the rubbing would materialize in real life in perhaps recycling and making it into a new artifact. I heard that if you dance on a headstone, you're likely to be possessed by the spirit of that headstone. I think I'm going to line up my artifacts and dance upon them and see if any of you come back. Then again, maybe they're buried for a reason. And if I did dance, I'd have to get an exorcism. And I'd never be the same. Not that I have been the same since, well, the departures in the first place. I keep coming back to that sinking feeling, my digestion percolating at the idea that I could see one of you again. I might be dead to you, but we're still alive. So, I guess, I miss you. The kind of miss that makes my arms weary and lax; where I could see you at the grocery store or bowling alley, and I'd have to look away.
For you:
For you:
Picklepuss Pearl
I’m Picklepuss Pearl, and I’m not very nice,
I’m not made of sugar, I’m not made of spice,
my attitude’s awful, my temper is vile,
I have no idea what it feels like to smile.
I’m Picklepuss Pearl, and I’m nasty and sour,
my wretched expression can wither a flower,
it takes but a blink of my miserable eye
for laughing hyenas to break down and cry.
If I fix your face with my permanent frown,
your stomach is liable to turn upside-down,
my stare is so cold it turns water to ice,
I’m Picklepuss Pearl, and I’m not very nice.
And for you:
4.06.2010
Pretty Blonde Problem.
What's with blonde bombshells and their sexual wattage? It seems like they eat other girl's boyfriends for a snack. She can morph into whatever the boy may like, political preference, smoker/nonsmoker, she'll drink what the boy is drinking, and she can hold her liquor. Her hair is always shiny, no matter the weather, and they don't get split ends. Her ass always looks perfect, in jeans, sweatpants, bathing suits, thongs, everything. She doesn't have annoying habits, and if she does, a guy can overlook it, because when she flicks her golden locks he melts and forgets everything else. How do you solve a pretty blonde problem?
Damn it.
Damn it.
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