April 27, 2009
Perhaps
this song is perhaps the closest thing to perfection.
“clam crab cockle cowrie”
joanna newsom
that means no
where i come from
i am cold out waiting for the day to come
i chew my lips
oh and i scratch my nose
feels so good to be a rose
oh don’t
don’t you lift me up
like I’m that shy no no no no no
just give it up
there are bats all dissolving in a row
into the wishy-washy dark that cannot let go
and i cannot let go
so i thank the lord
and i thank his sword
though it be mincing up the morning slightly bored
oh morning
without warning
like a hole
oh and i watch you go
there are some mornings when the sky looks like a road
there are some dragons who were built to have and hold
and some machines are dropped from great heights lovingly
and some great bellies ache with many bumblebees
and they sting so terribly
and i do as i please
now i’m on my knees
your skin is something that i stir into my tea
and i am watching you
and you are starry starry starry
and i’m tumbling down
and i check a frown
that’s why i love this town
well just look around
to see me serenade it hourly
celebrated sourly
dedicated dourly
waltzing with the open sea
clam crab cockle cowrie
will you just look at me?
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hVx_kVtFI9E)
April 23, 2009
An Explanation
“faith” is a fine invention
when gentlemen can see
but microscopes are prudent
in an emergency.
emily dickinson (1830-1886)
March 22, 2009
Supernatural HIV
What is my process? I used my brain to figure out the clues, then I used the chemical signals in my brain to get my legs and feet to move, and then I asked someone if they possessed a quality I needed. That part was kind of weird–”Maw, do you have integrity?”
I chose what I chose pretty much based on the clues. If I could figure it out, I looked for it. But interestingly enough, many of the qualities I sought were ones I need–courage, integrity, selflessness, discernment. Perhaps the only one I looked for but didn’t especially need is strength. That actually might have some cool meaning: the clues I figured out the easiest led to the qualities I need. Ms. Haffley, are you a god?
I got a crayon, a bag of sand, a christmas tree light, an eraser, and a googly eye! The googly was definitely the best though. I freakin’ love those things. They’re also fun to put on objects in inappropriate ways to upset people without a sense of humor. The googly eye came from Padre, who later yelled at me during the Honors Convo for not looking in the right direction. His thing was discernment, and so I guess the googly eye makes sense, for both discernment (being able to see) and making sure I’m paying attention to all the freshman honors students (I have to use my eyes for that, apparently).
The eraser came from Ms. Annee, my awesome Biotech teacher. Just an aside—biotech is the Best Class Ever. I suppose you could say that an eraser is a very selfless inanimate object—when you make a mistake, it wears itself down fixing it. Probably hates us all. The end of the world won’t come on the wings of angels wielding chariots of fire, but by the boxes of erasers sitting dormant on the shelves of your local Office Max—they’re just waiting for their revenge.
The Christmas tree light was supposed to be for integrity. Yeah, I have no clue.
McCarthy gave me the bag of sand, which was a pretty blue color and went nicely with the sea-foam theme of my little bag. It was supposed to represent strength. My first thought is those temporary construction signs that they put up along the highway—they’re weighed down with bags of sand. But, holy bejeebers, I’m not a construction worker! So idk. Maybe we could go with the whole “there are millions of grains of sand” but if we unite we can be strong. Just like those erasers from two paragraphs ago.
Et finalement, I got this really sweet teal-ish crayon from Mr. Hicks, whose “medicine” was courage. Maybe I’m supposed to have the courage to color outside the lines. But that could prove difficult given my obsessive-compulsive tendencies. I guess I could also be bold, just like my pretty little crayon friend. I could go fill the world with color, which does take courage. Of maybe I’m supposed to be blue—does this mean I’m going do die by asphyxiation? I hope not. How unpleasant.
All in all, this scavenger hunt made me realize that I can get a lot done in the baby Day 1 PRT when I usually listen to music in the creative writing room and do my geometry homework. I also realized that there are always people that I can go to for help if I need anything. Including single Christmas tree lights.
March 9, 2009
Time does not erase
a boy ruined spring for me and come april i’ll want to die. something with the wind, i think, that stirs up that old poison.
February 12, 2009
Song of the Week
‘breaking’ by anberlin.
do you memorize theatrical lines
that seem to lead them in
play the role with a good-girl heart
hide the tangled webs within
who was it that led you on
and makes you want to hurt me so
who do you want to forget
who forgot you long ago
do you still feel him
calling in the air tonight
do you still feel it
(seems like you’ve done this before)
you make breaking hearts look so easy
seems like you’ve done this before
you’ve got breaking hearts all but down
have you done this, you’ve done this before
you make stealing hearts look so easy
where is the girl i adore
you’ve got breaking up all but down
and i can’t love a thief anymore
do you collect the souls you’ve lost
in the top of your dresser drawer
count the number of tears displaced
on lonely bedroom floors
a machine where your heart once was
slowly takes the place of you
only hold the memories now
of a love i thought i knew
do you still feel him
calling in the air tonight
do you still feel it
(seems like you’ve done this before)
you make breaking hearts look so easy
seems like you’ve done this before
you’ve got breaking hearts all but down
have you done this, you’ve done this before
you make stealing hearts look so easy
where is the girl I adore
you’ve got breaking up all but down
and i can’t love a thief anymore
you make breaking hearts look so easy
seems like you’ve done this before
you’ve got breaking hearts all but down
have you done this, you’ve done this before
the best you could hope to be
is now just a bittersweet memory
and you make breaking hearts look so easy.
February 6, 2009
Cellists are sexy
holy expletive. RACHMANINOV.
although this guy is kind of a, um, a not very nice person and i would much rather use a stronger word to describe his imitation of pablo casals, his rachmaninov is still quite superb. there are a few slips where he attempts substition but fails or slides down to a note and over-shoots it. i’m not a fan of glissando, and i really don’t think it has much of a place in rachmaninov, but still the music speaks for itself beyond these errors.
i also shared the link to his performance of saint-saen’s ‘the swan.’ albeit the quintessential cello piece (perhaps after bach’s prelude to the 1st cello suite in G major), hauser shows that despite its popularity it does have true beauty.
this last piece was one i performed last summer with nariaki matsumoto at the IU summer string academy’s final concert. entitled ‘apres un reve,’ it was originally a vocal piece, and it was about faure waking from a dream in which his dead lover was still alive, and his despair upon waking from that dream. i find it tortuously beautiful.
all in all, i’m impressed with this stjepan hauser, except i find his shifting to be a bit dicey, seeing as how he relies on sliding up to the notes rather than hitting them spot on.
but he’s still better than i am.
http://thegreenwichtrio.webs.com/index.htm
February 2, 2009
If You Please
my new phone finally came in the mail (thanks virgin mobile, only what, two months late?) and soo i got my number transferred and all that, but lost my contacts. please please PLEASE text me at my old number or find me at school so you can give me yo numbah!
gracias.
January 31, 2009
Little Pond
i just finished my first successful attempt at fiction writing. fiction writing is annoying and more difficult than poetry because there are so many damn words. its less compact, and its a whole lot harder for me to write a meaningful story than a meaningful poem. poetry requires each word to be meaningful, where as in short fiction its more of the paragraphs and sentences that need meaning.
i admire the lightness of poetry, and i guess thats my issue with short fiction. it’s not light, and it doesn’t fit on a single sheet of paper. fiction also deals with bigger, more technical issues of character development and plot, for crying out loud, and poetry just has the smaller aspects of finding exactly the right words. that’s the fun part for me–having an image in my head and being able to put it on a page in little black and white squiggles. and while developing a character and throwing that character in with a bunch of other characters and seeing what they do with each other is fun, i still prefer the simplicity of poetry. when you can get beauty from so few words, using more seems like a waste.
i’m putting a copy of my story up on my blog (hanna–this is your advance reader’s copy) so check it out if you’re interested. just a caution: it does contain some heavy subject matter.
<<you may be a big fish
in a little pond
doesn’t mean you’ve won
’cause along may come
a bigger one>>
January 28, 2009
Not Here
in a perfect world, mommies wouldn’t starve themselves, and babies wouldn’t cut themselves, and big brothers would always be a phone call away.
January 25, 2009
Part I of IV
i hate making new friends. thats not one of those things on personality quizzes that i never understand–why would anyone really want to make friends? just more people to annoy me.
but today after cello class i swung by to see my buddy john rihani. he happened to introduce me to four of his friends who were visiting from germany, poland, and greencastle, IN. surprisingly, we hit it off. alice, max, amanda, and alex were all visiting john together and i kind of got to know them, or as much as you can know anyone after talking with them for ten minutes. we hung out for a while, and i really felt like i was among my own kind. they weren’t judgmental of what i said, and they really wanted to share what they had to say. we exchanged ideas and stories, and i really felt like i’d found my niche. it was a truly wonderful experience.
when i told john i had to get going, he explained that they were going to be staying for quite a bit, and had some free time before they had to leave. so i invited them over, but due to the confines of my mother’s ford taurus, only max decided to come back with me.
we hung out for a few hours in my room. after a while i decided that although max is loud and kind of inaccessible at the start, once you get him talking he’s a real softie. romantic and passionate, i decided, and a major, MAJOR softie once you get past the whole i’m-a-big-hulking-ginger-FEAR-ME thing. he’s a great companion. we became fast friends, and he’ll be staying at my house for the next few days.
fun, huh?
below is a picture of us together.
he’s a cutie, isn’t he?
