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Dec. 11th, 2005 @ 02:54 am
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I feel as though my senior year of highschool is a guide to what I should avoid repeating... if I want to become something I can respect. |
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Dec. 11th, 2005 @ 02:10 am
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Nick Cave is a really talented artist. Like many artists, he frequently lacks good judgement... but there are other times where he creates a song nothing short of beautiful. Some of his songs are quite graphic and vulgar. Others upbeat, fast tempo. Some happy, some sad. He has a lot of different sounds, all as interesitng and successful as his others. Some of his lyrics... suck. Suck a lot. But again, in other songs he is nothing short of a poet. |
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Dec. 1st, 2005 @ 11:46 pm
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people have broken into my house twice in two days. The leopard lounge was ransacked. Guess what I get to do my first day back in Columbus... |
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Nov. 9th, 2005 @ 12:52 am
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hooooooly shit... NIN was fucking awesome. |
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Things with Sarah have been very difficult lately. We are not together. In fact, we are distinctly apart. It hurts a lot more now than it did at first, and I think breaking up is something I may regret for a very very long time. At the moment I find it very difficult to focus on something like a drawing or essay. It seems like concentration on anything is very difficult for me, but I am beginning to understand the destruction of so many creative minds... not because I feel I am a great creative mind or that this is my destruction, but the level of concentration it takes to do these things properly is very different than with a paper or science. I admit those are difficult for me as well at the moment, but it is hardest when I am in drawing class. Trying to unravel what I see and draw it on paper feels like an extension of my consciousness, and the problem solving takes place on paper, yes, but there is a large part of the process taking place in my mind. Understanding what I see. Understand what my brain interpruts. It is not a far leap for my brain to interpret other things in my life. It is not a far leap for my brain to move from abstracting reality in front of me and simply imagining. It is not a far leap for my brain to move from deconstructing the reality laid out in front of me, and the events and memories of recent experiences. Things in my mind seem closer together when I have to put pencile on paper or brush to canvas or stylus to clay. The imagining of a muscle wrapping around and up an arm, the abstraction of it into a form up and around another form, translates quickly into relationships revolving around me, people revolving around each other...
Quit simply, I find it difficult to spend so much time imagining things when I wish I could focus on what's in front of me.
Finally, I have noticed how sobriety and fitness translate into better art. Creativeness associated with drugs I would actually call inventiveness. Creativity is more complex, beyond the skills one has while under the influence of any substance. I haven't drunk or smoked in weeks. I will tonight simply because I am going to a concert, but in general I no longer appreciate some things I used to. I have also, if possible, become more arrogant in regards to art. Less arrogant in other ways.
At least I'm in the mood to see Nine Inch Nails tongiht.
Nov. 8th, 2005 @ 01:09 pm
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| » A brief note and meet my roommate |
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It may seem hard for a lot of you to believe, but I have really been trying to look on the good side of things. It's just been really really hard. I wish there was one positive constant in my life at the moment, but there's not. Shit like this builds charecter, but I'm not going to lie... I wish I didn't have to be doing shit all the time. I wish I had time to relax and not feel guilty for doing it. Today I did hardly anything. It wasn't all my fault, some of the things that happened was bad luck and it made shit take a lot longer than it should have... but I just haven't really done anything all day. It makes me feel like shit because there are ALWAYS unlimited things I can be doing. Oh well.
My Roommate:
He is from Tennessee and Virginia. His father is a rich doctor, is mother a harvard graduate. When his mom divorced his father they packed the entire house into their two cars and left him one day. They moved in with his mother's relatives. He quit school and hadn't been trying for about 6 months anyway. He says everyone "understood" because the divorce was the talk of the town (Nashville). Apparently his dad was one of the richest doctors in the city or something. Anyway, he dropped out of highschool and eventually studied at a community college for 6-12 months and got his highschool degree a few days before BU started session.
His Phillosophies on life:
He is a phillosophy major, so although some of these things sound nutty... trust me, we may just not understand what he means, because we are not smart enough.
"No, dude, listen, you just don't understand" is how he begins any conversation with anyone. Then he goes into his take on life. Taxes are the government stealing from us. The economy should be completely deregulated, because everyone would be better off if it were like the black market. Sex is emotionless. Everyone gets hurt sometime, so why shouldn't he do the hurting? If someone gets in a fight with him, they better kill him, becuase he won't stop fightin' 'till he's dead. I can never argue with him about economics because I have never been taxed (he was a drug dealer in highschool btw). The reason some black people segregate themselves from white people is they are really aggressive and "afraid they will hurt us." He's black btw. White people are stupid for playing in the rain. People shouldn't do what they are not "meant to do," i.e. ski or get wet, but driving 120 mph is fine in his book. A body is just a body, so I should be willing to disclose ANYthing to him. He can do anything a girl can do, better. There's no such thing as a bad neighborhood, because there are bad neighborhoods everywhere. I don't feel like going on.
Awkward conversations:
So I tell him I'm exhausted and can't wait to fall asleep. I turn off the lights and we're lying there. He then says, "Dude, dude... just listen. I need to ask you a question." I can tell it's not something I'm going to like, "Um, I'm REALLY tired." "Dude, just one thing." "...Okay."
"Have you ever had anal sex before?" NOTE: this is a few days before sarah visits me, a conversation that had preceeded this involved that topic and was, undoubtedly, still on his mind.
"What?"
'Have you ever had anal sex before?"
"Um... I'm not going to answer that question."
"Dude... a body is a body. What's the big deal?"
"First of all... I'm not going to answer that question. Second of all, it's not even just my body. Pretty much whatever I say you will assume applies to Sarah as well. That's inappropiate, because I know for a fact she doesn't really feel like having you know her sexual history."
"Dude... you don't understand, just listen. My sister tonight, totally random, asked me if I've ever fucked a girl in the ass tonight. A body is a body man, what does it matter?"
"I wouldn't answer your question if it involved solely me. It doesn't just involve me, it involves anyone I've ever fooled around with. Out of respect to them, I'm not answering the fucking question."
"Dude, you don't understand. Just listen. I know Sarah has legs. I know in between her legs are her panties. I know inside her panties there's a hole. I know you've fucked that hole. But, I'm not a fucking pervert. I'm not going ot be thinking about that when I'm talking to her. I'm not going to be visualizing that. A body is a body. Your body is my body, my body is your body. They're all bodies."
"I'm not answering the question."
Another night we're walking home and he said, "That Hadley chic is really cool. But, I would never fuck her."
"Okay."
"She said she had sex with 15 guys in one year."
"So maybe she just had sex 15 times? Unlikely, but seriously..."
"Dude, you don't understand. When a girl fucks a lot of guys, her pussy gets loose. When I fuck a pussy, I want to feel the pussy."
"Wow... um... everyone's different... but, I really don't want to have this conversation." NOTE: we're walking down Commenwealth Ave, the only drag through BU. It's a crowded sidewalk late on a saturday night. He's slightly buzzed and talking... rather loud.
"Dude, listen. You don't understand. I've had sex with 10 girls. I know. Pussy. I know, pussy."
"Can we please stop?"
"Dude, listen. You don't understand. When you understand, I'll stop. When a girl fucks a lot of guys, her pussy gets loose. It's a fact. You can tell after fucking a pussy one time how many times that girl's had sex."
"15 guys in one year is not necessarily a lot, everyone's differen't. That's all I'm saying, that's all I'll be convinced of tonight. Can we please stop?"
"Dude, listen, you don't understand. What if those 15 guys had really huge dicks? I mean, I told you about that girl who I couldn't even fuck because my dick was so big. She told me. What if Hadley got fucked by 15 guys with huge fucking dicks like my dick? What if 15 guys with huge dicks fucked her pussy and now it's really loose? I bet she likes big dicks. And big dicks make pussies loose."
"Stop."
He didn't stop. He went on. He went on for 20 minutes. He proceeded to describe, incredibly graphically, the act of penetration. His encounter with an italian hooker, which is a job comprable to waitressing in Italy. And people all around us were staring, crossing the street because they didn't want to listen to him. He wouldn't shut up until we got off CommAve onto a smaller street when he finally said, "You know, but it doesn't matter. We're just arguing opinion. I think we should stop having phillisophical debates, we get to involved in them." I hadn't talked in 15 minutes.
"I said we should stop 20 minutes ago."
"Yeah, but you didn't understand."
I went to the gym with him a couple of times because I needed a spotter and it was convenient at the time.
"So how are we supposed to do this one exactly," I say when he shows me this really weird bench, a weird version of a decline.
"Dude, don't worry about it."
"Um, huh?"
"You always ask, 'What muscles does this affect? How do we do this? What's the proper way?' Don't fucking worry about it. Nothing's going to happen to you."
"People hurt themselves in the gym all the time."
"Only idiots. Trust me, if you do it however you want, it won't matter."
"That's okay."
"You're lucky I'm so lenient. If you worked out with my friends, they'd beat you up for asking a question like that. Just fucking lift as mcuh as you can. Arch your back, throw your weight around... doesn't matter. As long as you are lifting more weight you're doing more."
So he's high. There's a dunkin' donuts on the way home. He wants to go in. We do, and it's boston... so you know, the ridiculous transvestite behind the counter is only... kind of surprising. Really creepy, though.
"Do you want anything?" he says to me when we get to the cashier.
"No, I have my wallet. It's fine." I reach for my wallet, "Shit! I forgot I only brought my BUID"
"Dude. When we were leaving our room to go to the gym I told you to bring it. I told you you would want it for something. I knew it. I always know this shit and you never listen to me. Trust me, if you listened to me more your life would be easier. I always remind you of something like this and I always bite my tongue afterwards, but this time I just had to lecture you. I'm sorry."
The transvestite smiles at me.
"So I'll have a coffee, *lists different kinds of donuts* and ... do you want anything?" He asks me.
"No, I'm good."
The transvestite says the balance in a weird, fake woman southern drawl. It's creepy. My roommate hands over the money.
"Do you need any shugah?"
"hmm?" says my roommate.
"Do you need any shugah... you know..." Then he smiled and winked. "In your coffee."
"Yes please. A lot."
The transvestite goes back to making the coffee and a co worker in the back comes out with ear plugs, carrying something. Then goes into the back trying to walk around the weirdo without making eye contact. I seriously thought we were on some sort of tv show or something. The guy keeps looking up and smiling at my roommate. Finally the guy comes over and hands him his coffee. My roommate says to me, "hold on, you know how I like it." He then walks over to the sugar station and adds 6 packets of sugar. "Dude, I'm doing a lot better, last time it was 9." Then we are about to leave and the transvestite says,
"Uh, suh?"
We turn around. "Yes," My roommate says.
"I mis charged you."
"Oh. okay."
We then go back and he can't figure out how much the difference shoudl be, but my roommate needs to pay more. The guy says, "Just pay $1.39. Student discounts. I always give special deals to all the students around here. I know how hard it is for you guys..." Remember: southern drawl, winking, and smiling.
"Thanks," Says my roommate.
We go outside and my roommate takes a sip, "DAYM! I am so glad a gay guy made my coffee, it tastes so damn good you have no idea. I don't know what it is they do, but it always taste great when a gay guy makes your coffee." Some guy walking by started to laugh. So did I.
"I'm sure he made it extra special for you. Shit, he likes you man."
"Made my night."
Another awkward moment was when he bragged to our virgin neighbor about never going down on a girl. When he talked to his ex girlfriend about masturbating when I was sitting in the room working on a paper. Et cetera et cetera. I liked him at first, he wasn't so rude, vulgar, offensive, racist, or retarded. But as he began to trust me more, he thought he could act like himself. Himself is a fucking idiot. I don't hang out with him any more, luckily he spends a lot of time at his sister's. There's a lot more to this whole thing, but this is as much as I can rememebr off-hand. Fucking don't like him.
Nov. 6th, 2005 @ 12:22 am
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| » Quick Update |
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I have been neglecting my live journal. I apologize to all of my loyal fans. I will have a longer post soon, including a very informative post on my roommate. He sucks.
The inevitible has occured: long time friends drifting apart. The realization of so many things lost has been lost on me until quite suddenly. Just how much was lost, along with my childhood, at the beginning of this school year is depressing. The onslaught of new things is not as exciting as I had hoped. I feel overwhelmed by the drift into emotional detachment. There were a lot of people at academy that you see every day. Without the daily facial recognition they are gone. Without the physical touch of others, they are gone. Without the daily phone call, even more disappear. AIM a luxury most of us can't afford... even more, gone. Sadly there are not very many people here replacing them. It's my own fault. I care, but I am not prioritizing friendship on a conscious level. I wish I was here to make friends, but I'm not. I'm not even here to make good grades. I'm just here to gain skills. I am here in transition to something bigger, greater, and far more scary. I am scared, unhappy. But impressed with myself. Had I behaved the way I did in highschool things would be far worse. I am spending so much time on homework... I am spending so much time not drinking, smoking, or other wastes. I am spending so much time being good. Yet I don't do well.
I still have mixed feelings towards the powerbook. I love the free ipod, though. It has rescued me. I also have learned how to use a... speed bag? My sculpture teacher showed me how to use it. Nice stress reliever whenever my painting teacher is a huge bitch. Like earlier this morning.
Thanksgiving... coming up. I am looking forward to a break more than anything else. I don't want to see my family. I don't want to see a shit load of people only to remember how much I miss them, how much is already lost forever, and how much more will be lost. I don't really want to break the tedium of work work work. Without that I really don't have anything to do. Senior Summer and this program has convinced me of one thing more than anything else: decadence is the greatest danger to human kind. The most terrible motivator and achievement.
I am feeling emo.
Nov. 1st, 2005 @ 01:23 pm
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Today, on my walk home across the Charles River, I saw a homeless man taking a shit in an overgrown field.
Boston fucking sucks.
Sep. 23rd, 2005 @ 07:04 pm
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| » (No Subject) |
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So sarah is visiting me october 8th, same day my roommate's ex-girlfriend is visiting him. I was also 30 minutes late to class today. i wish i could say it was my fault... but it really seemed like the fates conspired against me. I had 6 hours of classes with the same teacher, however, and although I am behind in one of his classes he did compliment my wire model. In the other class I am ahead of schedule and showed him the research i've been doing on my sculpture etc., so he was okay with me being late.
The weird thing is, although this was probably one of the worst days I've yet had at BU, on the elevator these two old women were giving each other a pep talk for the day, and since i was the only other one in the elevator they gave one to me, too. By the time I got it I already knew it was going to be a shitty day, but it seemed like someone out there is trying to make up for it.
I think I might start believing in polytheism ;)
Sep. 19th, 2005 @ 11:25 pm
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| » Unhappy in boston |
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I am really unhappy. I wasn't really expecting to be happy here, but I was hopeful. I just wish there was another program anywhere else I could have gone to. At least I can transfer after sophomore year... Boston sucks.
Sep. 18th, 2005 @ 02:17 am
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"The artist is the creator of beautiful things. To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim."
-Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde is full of shit. That or the reading my professor gave me is totally out of context... but it's a preface, so there is no context. I really just don't understand how art's aim is to conceal the artist, when artwork is an extrension of the artist... as much so as a person's hand writing or personality.
Sep. 7th, 2005 @ 10:47 pm
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New glasses (and headphones... sennheiser 280 pros):
 
Sep. 1st, 2005 @ 04:57 pm
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This fucking sucks.
Aug. 23rd, 2005 @ 09:47 am
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Facebook is cool... but it's complete and utter bullshit.
Aug. 23rd, 2005 @ 04:55 am
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A government survey found that 12.2 percent of people in Boston and 10.3 percent in Boulder, Colo., had used marijuana in the previous 30 days.
Aug. 10th, 2005 @ 02:03 am
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If I were to pick two Sega Genesis games that, together, describe my life completely... I'd pick Jurssaic Park and Toejam & Earl in Panic on Funkotron.
Jul. 21st, 2005 @ 07:38 am
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| » supreme court |
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That was a fantastically strategic move.
Jul. 20th, 2005 @ 06:37 am
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| » (No Subject) |
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"Hello Theresa, this is the Pennsylvania airport"
-My girlfriend, after 24 hours in transit to C-Bus
Jul. 18th, 2005 @ 01:34 am
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5_hour_drives's journal
