Uh huh.
That which has been written between February and now has been how I feel about losing. I've got incredible inertia.
Enough I'd go places I hated.
6.26.2011
2.05.2011
#1 Houyhnhnm
You are a horse
and you're not very high.
You sleep on his shoes
and silently cry.
Your quickest is walking,
the shoes would allege;
you wish you were faster
and get to the edge.
Then a diving disaster
sharp rocks and sharks
no one's jumping in after
you.
Whatever, whatever
and off with the waves.
If horses could swim,
you know you'd be saved.
But drowning's a blanket,
it cradles you well.
This certainly is a comfortable dwelling for hell.
1.20.2011
DEAR RSVP NO JUST SHOW UP
You know, it's not a birthday party. It's a discovery and the proof you need. You're not invited, you just are. So when you arrive. I don't want you to laugh. Everyone else will be, but you can't laugh. You can only laugh if you're looking right at me and the rest of the room vanishes. 'Cause it isn't funny. I will not meet and greet, my face is going to be glued to the door. I might just sit in my linen suit and not even come downstairs because I'll be too busy looking for greenlights. I die at the end of that one, though. All my explanations are lies, and so is my audience. There is only one audient. It's a truth ribbon cutting. I dare you to go.
12.31.2010
6th annual!
Happy New Years. Time to reflect.
"New Years Blog (5th annual)
"New Years Blog (5th annual)
I have resolved to not fall in love anymore. I simply neither have the time nor patience to lie on my floor grasping my chest out of love pangs. All the energy that goes into my previous devotions will be spent otherwise on education, art, and books, (for all creative purposes, not art for the sake of love.)
Purify, as intangibly as possible. Deeds will be done because of pure motivation, and solely for that singular motivation. No ulterior motives, manipulation, or hiding the truth. Blunt. White. Pure.
Depress less. Smile more.
Quit cutting my hair.
Drink more water.
Be taken seriously. (Always a resolution of mine).
Look better in pictures.
Be pleasantly surprised (also always a resolution of mine. Though this time it will not involve love).
Pay dues to my idols. Someway, somehow, I am going to do something about my heroes.
twitter, cats, the color yellow, skirts and dresses, kissing, my friends, watercolors, sockeye salmon, George, resale stores, scented candles, my bed, mythology class, all the trips, strangers, when people stop being strangers.
Purify, as intangibly as possible. Deeds will be done because of pure motivation, and solely for that singular motivation. No ulterior motives, manipulation, or hiding the truth. Blunt. White. Pure.
Depress less. Smile more.
Quit cutting my hair.
Drink more water.
Be taken seriously. (Always a resolution of mine).
Look better in pictures.
Be pleasantly surprised (also always a resolution of mine. Though this time it will not involve love).
Pay dues to my idols. Someway, somehow, I am going to do something about my heroes.
Ali's Good Things of 2009:
twitter, cats, the color yellow, skirts and dresses, kissing, my friends, watercolors, sockeye salmon, George, resale stores, scented candles, my bed, mythology class, all the trips, strangers, when people stop being strangers.
Ali's Things that can go to hell in 2009:
24 hour celebrity death coverage on television, sex, mononucleosis, breakups, hookups, myspace, REL 110, commuting, people moving away, liars, death, navy blue."
And here's the results. Well, we can all ignore the first one. Clearly. See: the last, I don't know, 12 entries. -10
I didn't do much lying. No scheming. There have been a few moments I can't really let slide, but I'm human. +1, -2
I'd say I spent 2010 exactly 50% happy and 50%depressed. It is better than 49-51. +5
Hair is doing good. I may finally have long blond hair. +5
Yikes, I kind of forgot about the water thing. I do take vitamins regularly though. I am proud of myself for that. +0
I wasn't exactly taken seriously more, per se, but I did sort out and give the boot to the people who don't take me seriously. Or I yelled at them. +3, -2
I was pleasantly surprised this year. I have met some wonderful people, and have had wonderful and unexpected moments. +1
I am still working on paying dues. +x
1+x. Cool. Well, it's a positive slope at the very least.
Now for this year.
Graduate. It's not reaaaallly in question, but I want to so badly.
Take more risks. (not life threatening ones.)
Treasure dignity, and quit misplacing it.
Become the most popular girl in school. Just kidding. But I wish.
Successful show.
Keep on with the honesty, pleasant surprises, and water drinking.
I think that's good enough.
2010 hits-eBay, watercolors, micron pens, 70's R&b, black eyeliner, graphite, teeth, sculpture, best friends, moments that mimic movies, Harry Potter, Voldemort, action films, recycling, yellow blue, lingerie, youtube, yahoo! answers, falafel, emoticons.
2010 misses- Avatar, Amazon, oil painting, facebook, networking, geodesic domes, statistics class, crackheads, being "in a relationship", pizza (:(), boots, me writing blogs that aren't poems, emoticons.
12.26.2010
Deer Flies Rally aka squabble sala(n)d
Does the word Portland make you sick?
Because I don't feel safe outside the Midwest.
I refuse to remember the last time I put myself in a promissory circumstance,
in fact, I only take matador stances because
a challenge is better than talking.
Problem is, pale and yellowed lace doesn't hide shades of red, lust, or green too well.
I'll never be blue
If you ever decided to look over here
seriously, ever,
you see that my growing nose is spinning red hands through my teeth
and starting fires on my jeans.
It's true.
Polygonal graph me or whatever.
That's where I'm finally going to be off the charts.
This is all way too many characters to put in a text message, and I haven't proofread for proper placement of emoticons.
And I don't actually have a voice,
well I do,
but it's only audible to other bitches (canine).
Day dreaming is a really nice defense until the realization of what scares you irrationalizes the make-believe.
Since I'm never going to make you believe anything,
I'm gonna go buy that bull a drink and flash him my red stockings.
Too bad I turn into a yellow bellied breed of squash in an hour.
Because I don't feel safe outside the Midwest.
I refuse to remember the last time I put myself in a promissory circumstance,
in fact, I only take matador stances because
a challenge is better than talking.
Problem is, pale and yellowed lace doesn't hide shades of red, lust, or green too well.
I'll never be blue
If you ever decided to look over here
seriously, ever,
you see that my growing nose is spinning red hands through my teeth
and starting fires on my jeans.
It's true.
Polygonal graph me or whatever.
That's where I'm finally going to be off the charts.
This is all way too many characters to put in a text message, and I haven't proofread for proper placement of emoticons.
And I don't actually have a voice,
well I do,
but it's only audible to other bitches (canine).
Day dreaming is a really nice defense until the realization of what scares you irrationalizes the make-believe.
Since I'm never going to make you believe anything,
I'm gonna go buy that bull a drink and flash him my red stockings.
Too bad I turn into a yellow bellied breed of squash in an hour.
12.12.2010
are you leaving already? said a new friend. "no i'm not, im just leaving."
I was standing on my stilts
with a line of sight
right to the lumber where your stomach should be.
It helped you mouth monogamous melodies about you and your pride.
I listened.
With my mouth open
but sometimes shut,
eating only the ones I wanted.
But we all know how I feel about food.
And just when I thought I could only shoot lasers of hate from my eyes,
a string of sewn hearts with green grass fired,
burning everyone's haircuts into monks.
Still on my stilts, I saw their faces frown and turn to walk away,
so I trimmed off their toes
to show them how it feels to be left.
All they did was look into their trinket's face,
and cartoon spaghetti some promises.
I want to do it again next weekend.
I want to do it again tomorrow.
Or, maybe, never again.
Let me check just one more time.
Probably never again.
I can't look at my homepage.
I can't touch my dresser.
George hurts.
I swear to God,
or I guess to words,
that I'm never going to do this again.
Resolute because if I ever so much as blink a fancy,
I'm dismissing it as a toy pony,
and I'm allergic to horses.
with a line of sight
right to the lumber where your stomach should be.
It helped you mouth monogamous melodies about you and your pride.
I listened.
With my mouth open
but sometimes shut,
eating only the ones I wanted.
But we all know how I feel about food.
And just when I thought I could only shoot lasers of hate from my eyes,
a string of sewn hearts with green grass fired,
burning everyone's haircuts into monks.
Still on my stilts, I saw their faces frown and turn to walk away,
so I trimmed off their toes
to show them how it feels to be left.
All they did was look into their trinket's face,
and cartoon spaghetti some promises.
I want to do it again next weekend.
I want to do it again tomorrow.
Or, maybe, never again.
Let me check just one more time.
Probably never again.
I can't look at my homepage.
I can't touch my dresser.
George hurts.
I swear to God,
or I guess to words,
that I'm never going to do this again.
Resolute because if I ever so much as blink a fancy,
I'm dismissing it as a toy pony,
and I'm allergic to horses.
11.25.2010
History : Supermodels :: Baby : Bathwater
I've had a ton of thoughts today. This is one of 'em.
I like to learn about everything, except history. Not because it's hard, or it's impossible to teach in a benevolent way, but it's useless. Let me explain.
If I sit around and talk about the past, people are going to tell me to get over it. I think they call it "dwelling." History is like a supermodel, nice to look at once in a while, but essentially pointless and unattainable. The clause "we have to learn so we don't repeat history," doesn't work in the way it ought to, because if logic were really behind the necessity, we'd logically be applying time and effort to the present (where things are actually happening. That much I'm sure). Moreover, we can never exactly repeat anything, and even in a more broad perspective, the entire world is at fault for making the same mistakes. There have been rainy days where I tell myself I'll wear boots, but I don't and end up with cold and wet socks, again. I may never learn. Imagine if there hadn't been a WWII, because, you know, the first one was "the war to end all wars." Things might be different. Don't get me wrong, I am not attempting to abandon the previous second, and the second before that, etc., because that's outrageous and impossible. Even though that's slightly contradictory to the meaning of "present," time is a conundrum anyway, and I'll argue it to tears, but all in all, it's relative, and it would make sense to operationally define "the present" as a discrete interval of, like, 10 minutes (not the infinite amount of tiny fractions of time that happen in between every moment.) Just, in all practicality, what does history do for anyone? To those I know that love a certain period of time, it makes them yearn to be a part of that, which is as reckless as wishing to be a 9,000 headed dragon on moon Miranda; it simply cannot occur. I cannot knock day-dreaming, it is an important part of my existence, but bereavement for yesteryear is not useful to anyone. (Not like the childish foot-stomp about "When are we going to need this in REAL life?" It's all real life.) If the human experience is unique, culturally relativistic, and requires rationale and morality to thrive, all of which is decidedly personal, where is learning about Franklin Pierce going to fit in deciding whether to pull the trigger, pack my bags, kiss that one, call my mom, or lend a hand? I'm sorry, it's just that we can't complain that the world is ending so soon, and there isn't enough time, and life is so short, when we squander what we so desperately cherish. I'd rather make a dollar than think about a dollar I lost or spent. I'm sure, capitalistically-time-is-money, this argument is golden.
So, Dear Education system,
While I see that your merits are noble, having us pour over thousands of pages of what happened before our greatest-greater-great grandcestors were conceived, people should probably know the capital of Iraq, and start appreciating their contemporaries.
That's all. Carry on turkeying and thanking.
I'm thankful for all those who read this and/or look at my art; my heart beats for you. And I'm thankful for the people in my life, for whom things are worth creating, and air is worth breathing. And my little princess Spence, because she's watching me type this and if she knows how to read, she'd be mad I left her out. And know I'm thankful all the time, not just pre-christmas-gluttony-slaughter-day-oh-yeah-football-and-i-think-i'm-thankful-for-...-too-much-tryptophan.
I like to learn about everything, except history. Not because it's hard, or it's impossible to teach in a benevolent way, but it's useless. Let me explain.
If I sit around and talk about the past, people are going to tell me to get over it. I think they call it "dwelling." History is like a supermodel, nice to look at once in a while, but essentially pointless and unattainable. The clause "we have to learn so we don't repeat history," doesn't work in the way it ought to, because if logic were really behind the necessity, we'd logically be applying time and effort to the present (where things are actually happening. That much I'm sure). Moreover, we can never exactly repeat anything, and even in a more broad perspective, the entire world is at fault for making the same mistakes. There have been rainy days where I tell myself I'll wear boots, but I don't and end up with cold and wet socks, again. I may never learn. Imagine if there hadn't been a WWII, because, you know, the first one was "the war to end all wars." Things might be different. Don't get me wrong, I am not attempting to abandon the previous second, and the second before that, etc., because that's outrageous and impossible. Even though that's slightly contradictory to the meaning of "present," time is a conundrum anyway, and I'll argue it to tears, but all in all, it's relative, and it would make sense to operationally define "the present" as a discrete interval of, like, 10 minutes (not the infinite amount of tiny fractions of time that happen in between every moment.) Just, in all practicality, what does history do for anyone? To those I know that love a certain period of time, it makes them yearn to be a part of that, which is as reckless as wishing to be a 9,000 headed dragon on moon Miranda; it simply cannot occur. I cannot knock day-dreaming, it is an important part of my existence, but bereavement for yesteryear is not useful to anyone. (Not like the childish foot-stomp about "When are we going to need this in REAL life?" It's all real life.) If the human experience is unique, culturally relativistic, and requires rationale and morality to thrive, all of which is decidedly personal, where is learning about Franklin Pierce going to fit in deciding whether to pull the trigger, pack my bags, kiss that one, call my mom, or lend a hand? I'm sorry, it's just that we can't complain that the world is ending so soon, and there isn't enough time, and life is so short, when we squander what we so desperately cherish. I'd rather make a dollar than think about a dollar I lost or spent. I'm sure, capitalistically-time-is-money, this argument is golden.
So, Dear Education system,
While I see that your merits are noble, having us pour over thousands of pages of what happened before our greatest-greater-great grandcestors were conceived, people should probably know the capital of Iraq, and start appreciating their contemporaries.
That's all. Carry on turkeying and thanking.
I'm thankful for all those who read this and/or look at my art; my heart beats for you. And I'm thankful for the people in my life, for whom things are worth creating, and air is worth breathing. And my little princess Spence, because she's watching me type this and if she knows how to read, she'd be mad I left her out. And know I'm thankful all the time, not just pre-christmas-gluttony-slaughter-day-oh-yeah-football-and-i-think-i'm-thankful-for-...-too-much-tryptophan.
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