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AussieAri's weblog Edit this message to change the title of your weblog. Friday, January 31, 2003 Blossoming reputations One of my seminar tutors had been told my puffy cheeks last week were due to a fight i had gotten in or a sparing accident instead of my wisdom tooth removal and had believed it. HAR! Thursday, January 30, 2003
My P.A.R.Q.O.Y.B.D. easy out Several times I’ve explained my future plans or joy over weapons and I’ve gotten word for word, “There’s nothing wrong with that.” in response. Wednesday, January 29, 2003
mu Tuesday, January 28, 2003 The oh so true. "Come back and see us soon cuz you never know when we'll get fired."- The Rhubarbs, playing at The Cowgirl.
Was: Muscle, lies, books, burn, fire, guns, gold, judge, muscle and hate. In the Ghetto. Sleeping with a gun under your pillow seems like the best way to blow your brains out accidentally.
I’ve noticed recently that when I’m dancing with someone, formal or informal I rarely look them in the eye. Maybe it’s because I don’t want to run into anyone or them while dancing, and I’m more paying attention to what their whole body is doing in response. I tend to slip into what Bill called ‘soft eye’ when we talked about ways of looking at others in martial arts when you need to see the whole and not the part. I tend to center the gaze on the dip of the collar bone, which, as pictures from dances have proven, looks like my eyes are glazed over staring at the other person’s rack. Or maybe it also means I’m not serious about the person I’m dancing with but about the dancing. Demon/stration Where is the book I will read that will make me go mad? I’m almost waiting for something to fall into my lap that will cause me to fall away; which means it may very well happen. Things you learn from Mr. Starr in Language class. Add ‘aye?’ to the end of any sentence for the Canadian translation. 2,4,6,8, Masticate! I can’t open my mouth more than an inch. This could seriously impair certain activities in my life if it doesn't mend itself... Semester side projects- First: A Johnny rag mag featuring beauteous pictures of the women of St. John’s and lewd witty articles and all things Johnny. It’s a Reality fundraiser! A tall mocha with extra cream? Kongsguard could make a killing selling condoms. King Kong’s guard! Yeoow! And Chris should tell him managers about the wonderful idea of Starbuck Fuck Condoms. Coming in all the different drink flavors and caffeinated! Sensible things aren’t all they’re felt up to be. Biological ends are the last sort I look at or for. Probably because I don’t want to (and can't be bothered to) go diving into knowledge that often end up being half rounded not fully explored or related explanatory myths about the myriads of physical factors, all corruptible and changeable dependant things. Well. Good thing i'm not going into medicine of any sort. Not saturated, lubricated. I ate last night’s dinner out after cleaning/maintaining my bike. I’d washed my hands but not scrubbed every little bit of grease and oil off. It’s a hard thing to do! It ended up being finger food from The Zia, smoked salmon avocado quesadillas, and oddly enough, I thought the oil and grease from my hands actually made it taste better. Is this something like those people that really enjoy the smell of gasoline? “You don’t have to spend you just have to pretend.” – Ladytron When I go out on the town in Santa Fe, broke college student that I am, even sometimes here in the southwest I’ve encountered this mentality in the small boutiques, special restaurant, and uppity cafes, of people expect you to be buying or you’d better be leaving- having no real business with them. I'd rather be doing something. Hell for the Ancient Greeks was boredom. For the Roman Empire, powerlessness. And for earlier Christians: guilt. Santa Fe start up magazines. "Oh you know- a magazine for those in society that like to read about themselves, or better yet, like to read about what others say they are in order to know themselves." Shimmy Your Chivalry For Me Knight baby. Chivalry isn’t dead. But it is absent in our minds and it’s manifestations go unrecognized and are unexpected. 'Blubber Boy' - Regurgitator At very least what’s left of the wise whale Aquinas can keep my lap warm instead of crushing it, even if that’s what he’s doing to my head. Monday, January 27, 2003 Once again, Shake your lab ass! Carlo, graduated johnny and ex-lab assistant, affirmed my position as lab ass the other night after having danced in/on plywood and chicken wire cages at the DJ party: Proper in class or when talking about class and a sex symbol out. Saturday, January 25, 2003
Your mission is to divide and conquer yourself. Thursday, January 23, 2003 X marks the man. No wonder Xavier has a pre-disposition for catholic art and
Wow. I just got the most wonderful kind of postcard to my heart. Party for after papers. Get school mattresses. Line an otherwise empty dorm room with them. Leave the alcohol and liquids outside, bounce around inside! Wednesday, January 22, 2003 Phrancly my dear... Phranc is making me laugh and it hurts the whole time. A song about Hillary Clinton's EYEBROWS, A-har-gargle-hack-ha-ha! Tuesday, January 21, 2003
Acetaminophen and Hydrocodone = Vykadine.
My wisdom teeth feel like dice.
But i don't want to be a scholar mum. Sunday, January 19, 2003
I will have my upper wisdom teeth yanked tomorrow morn and will be a-logos for a while (who knows how long). The dental surgeon strongly suggested i have an IV instead of just Novocain injections which i was in favor of. So, if you'd like to make/send me mushy food or mushy letters, comments, etc. please, please do so and i'll check them when i'm puffy like a hedgehog and breaking into random songs more often than usual. Friday, January 17, 2003 Things I can’t escape for whatever reason. Catholicism, my own faith and reason, my parents, memory, dreams, best friends, my cats, my gender, the physical, other people’s misgivings and perception, desire, passion, the muses, words, death, thinking, useless money, pig kitsch. A verbal volley of folly. I can’t help myself.
So much of what i’ve done is worth nothing to anyone else and I’m unaware of it. Also, so much of what I’ve done meant something to someone else and I’m unaware of it too. Another upstart Santa Fe Institute. I could start a business: any of life’s actions done in verse. Anything you could never quite say emoted efficiently here. Everything beyond words with out a reason of a doubt intoned with precision.
The bartenders at The Cowgirl will throw away any change that is not a quarter on the wooden floor in front of the bar. They should set up jars or bells to hit. Image nothing. “So Young. So Bad. So What?” on my door to remind me of that.
Good idea: Having a drink with your best friend.
Santa Fe’s only comic shop is closing down and selling everything. @#$%, just when I’m broke too.
What really disassociates people that are acquaintances, those who fall in between not knowing you and not wanting to, is when you admit of lonelyness. Things talk to me more (often) than people do. Are the insane insane for lack of anyone to speak to or anyone that listens? I’m not saying its other people that are responsible, but many insane people profess sanity, like others but not the same as them. Why would you listen to something you couldn't understand? How could you speak with someone you didn't understand at all? Not for long anyway. Impasse. Do you ever feel like you’re just witling? There was a sign on the Canadian Niagara Falls side at the Ripley’s, a display explanation between tramp art and witling. Witling being ‘easily distinguished from tramp art by its uselessness.' Such intricate puzzles of interlocking weave- all chipped and carved and polished from the same one hunk of material. Anyone with enough time could do it. Usually it’s the abundance of time and the absence of anything else that starts people witling. Sort of the original get off work, retire, vacation, whatever to occupy you ends- productive or not, plonk your arse down in front of a TV and flick the remote control. What else are you going to do? Tramp art is functional, not incredibly tacky and made from readily available materials in plain calculated patterns. Fruit and meat eating monkey. I wonder how feasible an all fruit and meat diet would be. Kongsguard was going to do it but found it wasn’t financially feasible. I’d do it with interspersions of Vegemits, ginger, garlic, brew, tea and yogurt. Would I end up craving carbs? Hmmm.
“I hear that you’re building your little house deep in the desert. You’re living for nothing now. I hope you’re keeping some kind of record, yes.” –Leonard Cohen.
When I care about someone and it is not expressed for one reason or another, the interaction with them becomes all the more difficult and awkward. Hum... it's not perversion that makes me wonder what people i know, work mates, class mates, tutors, instructors, look like naked.
Joe blow sport bicycle pump. Eehehehe. The best at an unknown art. It doesn’t seem like you can be naturally good at something you hate. You’ve got to work or train at it- both in application and the distaste for what’s been done with a naturally endowed talent.
JFK again. Everyone here had a toy. Cell phone, CD player, mp3 player, palm pilots, rubix cubes, Simon says, or at least some form of entertainment. Magazines, books, the person next to them, on the other end of the phone line, candy, coffee. Would this reality right here and now be so much harder to handle without them? Even the hobo looking guy at the entrance to this gate port is entertainment and entertained, laughing with a rolling cough, probably at everyone else. Welcome to the 21st. I’d left out communications on my list of what the 20th century got us. Advances in communication, genocide and medicine. No that these things make quality though. Inventors are not scientists, and usually appliers would be a better name for them.
Lately- since school got out I’ve been randomly affected wholly and swiftly by waves of emotional memory. Lord of the Rings battle description, a pop song on the radio, finding a picture of a dead nun who taught me, all leapt alive and brought me to the edge of tears in seconds. Am i being swept away in my own story? Very unusual for me… must have been a harder semester than I thought.
JFK airport. Headed back to Santa Fe. A cafeteria type meal- the sort only available on Fridays when no one gives a shit at school about cooking cost me $10 here. This cafeteria is called ‘Central Park Restaurant’ and comes complete with trays. I hate trays. I wonder how far I am from the actual Central Park. Then I remember its night- or dark and drizzling outside. Good idea/bad idea. I only have 2 hours here anyway. A guy is leaning into his trumpet and playing. Well not exactly playing, more like honking into it. It reminds me of a recording of Kerouac doing American Haikus to improve trumpet. Sounded a lot nicer with Kerouac on the beat.
*sigh* -Dad Architecture VS Theater New levels don’t mean you’ve passed all the previous ones and ditched or left them behind. One day I was able to climb the mountain, and another, for some fear or exhaustion, couldn’t make it. The faculties of having passed through stages of attaining something add to a level and make it. That’s why I’ve fallen from levels before, but not the stages of experience.
If I pay attention to the motion or stasis of my work out it’s easier and more enjoyable than the simple endorphin rush of concentrating on the muscles themselves. Tear in my Beer and other country suicide songs. The reason why I can’t forget any of those sorry, selfish, self centered sons of bitches was because I knew them- more than these few qualities I’ve named. For me knowing means I cared to too. A part of me is invested in the memory of some import. At the comic store in Buffalo. Why and how my hand found and decided to open the newest issue of ‘Batman and Robin’ when the cover, like any other, totted a tattooed, pierced, leather clad woman I’m not sure. But unlike every other comic, the babe on the front had MY name as the first page I flipped to showed.
God does not save other from his religious followers as so many wisearse bumper stickers presume. Rather it seems like his religions save their followers from themselves. Pithy Why does it end up being a pitiful search for something meaningful? Is it because you’re looking elsewhere and you’re looking, which can mean the wrong places and the wrong way of going about finding meaning. Thursday, January 16, 2003 Siddhartha's river. "I can think, I can wait, I can fast.", and i thought that was all i'd be doing this break- of necessity as much as choice.
That's alot for one little greek sign to say. Silent fun time. The best thing i did these whole holidays is play with a deaf girl. My Dad's secretary's step daughter. It was great, she was amazing. Quite unlike most children her age that i find hard to be around because they're just at the stage when they're in their own little world and that's all there is. It was a refreshing way to interact and communicate with another person; especially being far school where we're always about talking and more talking. I wish i could convey and share that more with other people deaf or not. Be able to point and the expression on my face tell what sort of thing i expect them to see. She paid more attention to visual details than i do, was totally expressive of how she felt, and she never became exasperated with me for not following her lead as quickly. She even hugged me when i left. I actually wish i'd gotten to play with her longer, but i'm sure i'll see her again. Maybe by then i'll have learnt some more ASL than ‘not my bartender’, and ‘Australian’, maybe by then the miniscule amount of sound she has been able to recover in her hearing will have increased.
A fine establishment in Santa Fe. The Duponts with their 'Refer Madness' in the 60's is one of the reasons why we don't have more useful hemp products about. Hemp pants last longer than jeans for one. Monday, January 13, 2003 turning tables, counters, and profession. Ok, so i won't be able to update this blog till school starts again. I'm house sitting in town with no computer for a week of broke laziness and perhaps wisdom tooth removal. But when i do get to a puter i can't snag enough time for a good update. Thursday, January 2, 2003 Idle hands in the Devil's trade. I don't have any monopoly money as was suggested, but i did find some fake toy money while unpacking boxes here. Should i go ahead and make a generous donation as a non-alum? Feh feh feh Because Val first told me what it stood for, and because i knew there had to be a website. homo says what? drowning in the mainstream. I feel like the only queer person in Niagara. Worse yet, the only person with any sense of subculture.
Fenced some Buffalo people in the only sword play i've been in all break (when i start backpacking remind me be a wandering swordswoman, betting per the bout point). I completely ripped my fencing knickers though as i sat into a deep squat as a beginner, Larry, advanced, lunged in an attack that landed his point in the air above me and him on my blade. A resounding RIP went down the salle accompanying this move with perfect timing. Failed pick up line #16. (thank god i don't actually use these, i'd be counting black eyes as well.) to a bartender: New Years day Niagara, Ontario. On the other side of the border. Entering the Canadian side they asked if we were carrying “anything for our personal protection” I declined to state the constant presence of one of my pocketknives. Besides, you really need more than 3 inches of blade to do any internal damage if you’re not an expert with points, and even then you may not get a shot in at a vital point. Coming back to the American side they asked if we were bringing anything at all back with us from the Canadian side. About negative $40 Canadian. We first hit the Casino on the Canadian side, where, at 19 you can gamble, smoke and drink away. None of it free though. A barrage of lights flashing with spastic faked orgasms of electronic jubilance in pings and whirring sounds abound matched every blank human pair of eyes with confused, distracted and mesmerized faces that assailed us. Phew. Not a soul my age in all three floors of the house. Most must have been spending their pension checks. I say spending- the odds in Canada are 1-9 over all. At the Seneca, at the moment (I wonder how long for…) 1-8.5. But by gods, they do spend ‘em. The slots didn’t hold any luck for dad and I. There’s nothing more to do but pull the lever and anticipate a win from all the losses. Black jack is my game. At $25 a pop though, I wasn’t about to throw in for a hand- the house has got to make some return on a game where your odds are almost even. There was no socializing, and no friendly staff as they didn’t seem to have time to be, just groups of people engrossed in their business with the odds. I think I’d like to work at a casino just for a little while. The only ones having any real visible fun were the drink servers with one another, talking about their customers and their gossip as they waited for the drink to be made to take out onto the floor. New Years Eve on the American Niagara side. Nothing Changes on New Years Day. Where else but the new Seneca Casino? The only thing currently up and running for people to whoop it up at in a 40 mile radius of the American side. I had to stay in the lobby of the casino though, as I’m not of age. I predict the casino will make an even split of their money for it’s first few years from locals and tourists. The casino, as you may guess, is run by chaps from the Native American tribe it takes its name from. As I had guessed, and is the trend, the vast majority of staff were not Native American.
Quality = Virtue?
After watching the gray skinny but fuzzy, pink eared, white bellied, twitchy squires here, I’m sure that Ice Ages’s Scrat was based on them. Sick Again. You think my mum would know by now she has a child that hates being around people when sick. Don’t even try talking to me, or touching me, unless it’s softly on the head. “The smell of sunshine, I remember sometimes”, “I can see my son again” Seven out of the nine days I’ve been in Lewiston, the new residents of my parents, a little satellite suburb of Niagara Falls, NY, I haven’t seen the sun at all. It verily depressed me; total cloud cover makes for weak gray light. I couldn’t hack it in Alaska, so much for that notion.
Anyone else love the smell of biro (ball point pen) ink? Cabin Fever/My Fever Broke Ever listened to French instructional tapes for the conversation? More careers to look into if my life goes down the shitter: Exotic dancer (ok, so a very specific kind of exotic.)
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