has anyone seen bright star, the john keats movie? the trailer looks so good. i have very little money and plan on going to the movies tonight probably for the only time all season. i cant decide whether to see that, where the wild things are, or jennifer's body (very serious). i know i'll enjoy the latter two regardless.
there are two things in this world i like the most. television. and everything else. i use my flickr a lot now. it's called /pleaseplantmyphoto. now you show me yers?
i feel like making cupcakes. very delicate ones with non dainty green icing. i dont have any of the ingredients. especially the green icing. i have chocolate stuff in the cabinet. i found something yellow and also blue and rubbed them together with my fingertips and made a green handprint. i am not a scientist, i forget how to do things, i might bite.
im reading jesus' son which is very funny and sort of disturbs yer galaxy. i watched the movie-version last night. i never liked billy crudup in anything til i saw this. i also rented a dumb kirsten dunst movie, or nick cave movie, but i ran out of weed so i layed in bed and knitted something in intervals of invisible farm animals across my eyes.
saturdays feel kind of lonely lately. so much empty time waiting for heat. francis broke my kite and now i have nothing to wave at spring with when she comes home.
i tried to read 50 books in 2008. it didnt happen. i bolded the ones that were my favorites.
01. atonement, ian mcewan 02. stardust, neil gaiman 03. my antonia, willa cather 04. the road, cormac mccarthy 05. neverwhere, neil gaiman 06. notes from underground, fyodor dostoevsky 07. love story, erich segal 08. winne the pooh, a.a. milne 09. the awakening, kate chopin 10. me talk pretty one day, david sedaris 11. no one belongs here more than you, miranda july 12. in the woods, tana french 13. winter's tale, mark helprin 14. sputnik sweetheart, haruki murakami 15. the facts in the case of the departure of miss finch, neil gaiman 16. the pill versus the springhill mine disaster, richard brautigan 17. twilight, stephanie meyer :-) 18. new moon, stephanie meyer 19. eclipse, stephanie meyer 20. breaking dawn, stephanie meyer 21. enduring love, ian mcewan 22. alice's adventures in wonderland, lewis carroll 23. the time traveler's wife, audrey niffenegger 24. bird by bird, anne lamott 25. naked, david sedaris 26. an unfortunate woman, richard brautigan 27. the flood, ian rankin 28. rabbit, run, john updike 29. actual air, david berman 30. alibi school, jeffrey mcdaniel 31. pride and prejudice, jane austen
my dog puts his wet snout on my leg when we're falling asleep. i shake off my leg to get rid of it cos it's cold & sudden. then he throws his paw over the back of my kneecap & snores like a very fragile little wolf who hasnt learned what those teeths are for. it's sweet & low & not violent at all. & i go i dont think i love any person in the world as much as i love you. & i just met you! then he licks something he was dreaming about & rolls over, fangs out.
he's done so much bad to me though. like a pet bear who is bad to you. my legs are very bruised because he swats. they looks like fingerprints. the bruises. so i try not to take my pants off very much. i try to remember no more mini skirts. i recite to myself i am not in an abusive relationship. i am loved. wear your bruises like a red badge of courage. there's cavity shaped scars on my wrists too. theyve kind of healed. he doesnt really apologize. but sometimes, when i get angry & slap his nose & he runs to a corner, he'll come back & let me hold his head in my arms & say im sorry. he's like person who is very good to you. no hard feelings. you didnt mean it. it's you, not me. i understand.
yesterday i spent 2 hours blowing the leaves in the front yard. it was ok. i thought i looked ok & like a man in my uniform. my arm felt pulled out of its socket after awhile, so i blew a spooky sepulcher of leaves high & deep in the middle of the lawn & gave up. i said goodnight or nothing, ill-get-rid-of-you-tomorrow. but when i woke up this morning, they were gone. i knew my brother didnt do it. he's a bum. i called him & asked anyway. he said no: im a bum. i ate breakfast, took a shower, & dripped to the door to get the mail. my neighbor was blowing his lawn with a machine that wouldnt hurt anybody's arms. it was soft & easy to move. it hummed in weird mechanical agreement with sir thomas moore. people are innately good. they are silky skinned & good. there are no other known facts in this weird earth. good grows in our bones. bodies like monuments. moist in the spots where conversation was conceived. shiny where they were touched. hard where their wounds that healed were. chipped where their hearts broke. a plaque on the bottom for treating their neighbors as they would themselves.
