Dear Simone–
Speaking of not writing, guess what I've been doing. :D I'm so sorry for the delay. So. First things are first: the trip, in brief.
Friday: We pack up the fifteen-seat-apiece vans, and I sign up to be a driver, against my mother's wishes but in accordance with Duncan's urgings (this turned out to be a good decision). After coffee and biscotti in the wonderful sunshine outside of the geology building, I rejoined my classmates as we climbed into the vans and promptly realized how bad we as a group were at caravaning. One hour later we are en route to our destination, Corbin, KY. After a nine-hour drive we arrive to collapse in a motel. Duncan, Kelsey and I shared a room (and would continue to throughout the trip).
Saturday: First dig sites along a high way in the Daniel Boone National Forest. Some really pretty pieces of coal, and (eventually) our first fossils. It took a while for anyone to find something, but once someone did, we all learned to spot what we were looking for. Digging=drive, stop, professor checks, get out with gear/drive on depending on the quality of the site. We drive up to Maysville and go out for pizza and a little Duke/Carolina basketball action.
Sunday: Good morning and SNOW. Too cold to think in the morning, as we splurch through mud and ice to find brachiopods, bivalves, cephalopods and more in Maysville. Hot drinks and gloves solve the problem. We stop digging at noon and drive through horse-breeding country to reach Indiana that night. I survive after driving through the Cincinatti rush hour, following my professor and the other van (my professor wasn't a bad driver, but he was a pretty poor caravan leader). We do not camp in Scottsburg, IN because it is FREEZING and damp. Rock walls are scaled in the pursuit of fossils, and my favorite climbing companion is Duncan as we beast our way up crumbling and almost-vertical faces to then walk around and watch our classmates coming up behind us. As dusk fades to night, we go to a gorgeous part of Indiana, lights floating over a river as we cross a bridge, one of the prettiest views I think I've seen in my life, and one of the most ghostly. Dinner with the professor at a steakhouse leads to wonderful conversation. I (and many of my fellow students) ache for vegetables.
Monday: We kick of the morning with a visit to a limestone quarry, which had beautiful layers of colored rocks, geese and even a few waterfalls. Here there are corals, rugosa and tabulata. Our professor (≈67 years of age) takes a sledgehammer to a whopping coral and hacks the boulders around it to bits. A museum is visited, but the collection has changed, and there is little there that is of interest to us paleontological types. We begin driving to reach Kentucky again and stop just north of Corbin, swinging by one more dig spot on the way which requires some slogging through a boggish area to reach a plateau. Tonight we camp, and I join the fire builders to bring heat and light. Due to lack of space in the tents, Duncan Kelsey and I take up sleeping spots in the van, which reeks of a certain person's beef jerky and leaves us cold and stiff but content the next morning.
Tuesday: After waking up with Cracker Barrel, we return to the vans. The long drive back to Chapel Hill is broken only by another visit to a steakhouse at the other van's request, but most of my van elects instead to walk around in the parking lot and/or join Duncan and I as we throw a frisbee around. I split my pants doing some particularly flexibility-requiring ballet moves between catches. Then we drive through gorgeous West Virginia and Virginia mountains, where the Appalachians look as much like the Alps as they ever will (still not there, but significantly closer). We go to my professor's house as a giant group for dinner, where his wife (a former bakery-owner) makes the most delicious things and we meet his shy dog in his geo-thermally heated house. After dropping others off at their respective lodgings for the night, Duncan and I drive until we find a 24-hour Harris Teeter, where fruit is giddily bought. Then we have an adventure that is very typical of us before returning to my sister's house, where we shower and stay the night.
Wednesday: Setting out again, this time with one car less and the professor joining us in the van (having cut the truck from the caravan). We spend the day getting to Alabama, where we pass the night in the nicest of the motels yet. The drive is rainy, but pleasant.
Thursday: Duncan and I wake early for a leisurely breakfast and then walk and then jog laps around the motel. Some of our classmates take turns in joining us on our morning trot. At nine, our professor and his crazy friend appear and tell us that they went to the site we were initially meant to dig and it was flooded. We get into the car and begin driving to Florida, with no further plans than that. I drive today, through Marianna (where we make an impromptu stop at a quarry and find a remarkably good site, packed with echinoderms such as sea biscuits and sand dollars) and on to Ten Mile Creek, where we pass a dreamlike afternoon under a bridge, the sunlight hitting the emerald Florida leaves as we crouch in the sand and sift for tiny shells through the packages of clay that are thrown up to us by our pick-axe-wielding professor. An old rival who lives nearby may or may not have called the police cars that we saw nearby as we drove away, but fortunately we dodged that trouble. We began the drive home, making it as far north as southern Georgia.
Friday: We arrive home at long last, after nearly a day of driving. Unloading fossils in the dark of early night, we all go our separate ways. Duncan and I pick up his car from Kate's before going to his dorm where he gets in a day early (early even for an R.A., but based on the same privileges). After he is left alone, he lets me in as well. One Daft Punk shower party (with me using men's shampoo and soap), DDR game and Smash Brothers campaign mode later, we go to sleep.
Saturday: Still just the two of us, but now with Duncan's keys being fully functional so that we can enter and leave the building at will. Laundry is done, Smash Brothers is played, DDR is beasted, cookies are baked, and Weaver Street fills the dinner call as we read our respective books. A lazy day. After a Cook Out run, we stay up to our bodies' stop-points playing Smash Brothers and then realize that we are too tired for the other adventures we had hoped to take.
Sunday: A late morning with snoozing and DDR finishes as residents begin arriving. I return to my now-accessible dorm with groceries and other things to arrange my affairs for the coming week and the remainder of the semester. Spring Break ends, calmly and beautifully. Work takes up its regular beat. I return the last of Duncan's clothes that I had been wearing throughout the weekend. I love wearing men's clothes/shoes/boxers/etc. so much, though I do prefer gal's t-shirts.
Music that marked the trip: (Number 9 is still so totally on my mind, 1 and 4 as well)
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
Music that I craved upon our return:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
I swear that I listen to stuff that isn't electronic as well. :) I hope that I don't drive you crazy with all of my music posting. I'm just so into the stuff, I can't help myself. Hopefully there is something in there that appeals to you too.
THIS WEEK has been a really odd mix of paces. Monday started early when Duncan, George and I made our way to a little place called Caffé Driade at 6:45 am (Duncan and George both had to move their cars out of Cobb Deck before normal parking rules began to apply at 7:30). One peach ginger french press pot later, we headed to Kate's to park Duncan's car and then went out for breakfast as a group at the North campus dining hall. After classes it was a little DDR, a pancake event (white chocolate pancakes–expect good things, sans syrup :P), and an eleven o'clock dinner/breakfast/silliness at the South campus dining hall.
Tuesday saw my only class canceled (apparently some panicky emails had been sent about the midterm we were supposed to do over break, and the professor had mercy). A day of little activity apart from a run up to this gorgeous parking-deck on Franklin Street with Ben. I went out for dinner with my sister and dad (who was swinging through on his way to Raleigh, where he would be arguing with some legislators on behalf of the City of Charlotte, mostly about trees and green offsets–my dad is the City Engineer in case I haven't mentioned, so he's always doing this and that for the tax-paying public). Brownies and other goodies from my aunt, who just visited Hong Kong (where she and my uncle, currently Paris-dwellers, will probably be moving in the next year or so). It rained, and I danced through it late at night, past the tennis courts and all the way home to my dorm.
Wednesday began with a failure–I woke up at seven thirty to take a run, but I ran for about fifteen minutes before I got bored and gave myself a forty-five minute ballet class instead, earning stares from passers-by since I was in this pretty plaza between some of the science-y buildings. After completing a paper and getting through a hectic/packed day, I went to see this wonderful man speak in the company of my dear dear friend Ben. The political bits didn't include anything very new compared to what I've learned in some of my Islamic studies classes, but hearing what he had to say about the essential oneness, moral recognition and connection to the universe shared by all members of humanity, race/class/ethnicity/culture/religion aside, was BEAUTIFUL. After a round or two of DDR at Joyner, I went home to Cobb and got to try savory mochi with soy sauce at my guerilla art group's meeting–we always have the strangest and most delicious treats. I stayed out late with George, walking on Franklin, sitting in a gazebo in the graveyard and discussing all sorts of odd and ends, and running by Krispy Kreme for two dozen St. Patrick's Day-themed doughnuts which we deposited untouched in Duncan's room for distribution to the early risers on his hall the following morning.
Thursday was WONDERFUL. My only class started ten minutes late and finished over half an hour early (something which usually annoys me but Thursday was too gorgeous to allow for complaint) and we spent the bulk of that time talking about Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf's words. My dear friend Sonya and I basked on the quad for our free half hour, talking about her impending trip to Turkey, Pakistan, Paris, and other countries as well as about our affection for a T.A. that we both shared last semester. Then I met my friend George for lunch (the leftovers of which we surprised Duncan with on his way to class) and a walk in the Arboretum and Battle Park, Locopops in hand since the stand has reopened in the Pit (a happy symptom of the warmer weather). DDR and frisbee dominated the afternoon (not unusual of late) and then I headed off to teach a strengthening class that burned so beautifully in my muscles (my participants were giving me limp cardio, so I gave them something a little less moving and, in my opinion, a little more arduous). I saw South Campus boy, that perfect guy who I have mentioned before, Christian. I continue to resist feeling for him, mostly by failing to pick up my phone when he calls. I maintain my ground of asexuality. Alone and content. :)
Topless Friday happened, and I chose a cute sports bra and ran with the boys, sprinting/screaming/shouting/stomping/singing/silently walking through the four floors of each of the four dorms that make up Connor Community ("CoCo"). I gave Ben an old swirly skirt of mine (blue and flowery) because he loves wearing skirts. It looks better on him than I think it ever did on me. Smash Brothers, a chillingly lovely song, and sleeping over on Duncan's futon, in the wee hours of the morning.
It is resoundingly tour season here at Chapel Hill. So many groups of people. Endless streams.
The promises of things to come: as Friday finishes, the paint fight in the Pit as a celebration of the Hindu festival Holi and a night spent at a friend's room in Charlotte (probably after DDR and other late-night escapades). A weekend of cooking, job-pursuing and general recalibration at home. And next week: Humans versus Zombies. I have yet to get a Nerf gun, but I have socks and bandannas to spare (two of my favorite accessories). I'm so excited. :D
LINKS OF THE DAY:
FRENCH STUFF (Break Out the Translators, Cause We're Crossing Borders):
A music video I loved when I first saw it. Paul Verlaine's romantic-era French poetry is worth a translation, and makes me think a little of the lighter side of Edgar Allen Poe. The starkly rendered society-challenging pieces of Edouard Manet appeal to me, but my favorite of his paintings will probably always be this one. Carla Bruni, Prime Minister Nicolas Sarkozy's wife is also a very talented woman. Le raï is a Arabic-influenced musical genre pioneered by Faudel, a second-generation immigrant from North Africa (who is attractive in the same way that Justin Timberlake is attractive). Further music. It was the French poet Guillaume Apollinaire who pioneered the poetic form of calligrammes (shape poetry). This is probably my favorite of Apollinaire's works. An artist I could marry for his sheer coolness. An exhibit that was at Versailles. Terrifyingly talented little girls with the Paris Opera Ballet (this is from an original ballet called La Petite Danseuse de Degas, which I was lucky enough to see live this past summer).
A game that Duncan and I spent way too much time playing. And its predecessor.
Vincent van Gogh is an inspiration to me. I love him to pieces. Here are his letters, translated or original text. I like how often he writes in French.
I plan to make a TON of pesto this weekend, which I will freeze in plastic bags and use in my pasta at school. I might also make cookies (or at least dough, also for freezing).
I find this idea interesting, but worrying.
I can't remember how I came across this, but it appeals to me. Here is a kind of awesome spoken-word recording by the same artist that Duncan gave me several mix CDs in the past. Slam poetry can be so amazing.
Appreciated. A cool museum, a stupid billboard company.
Ethical issue of the day.
An example of public works at their finest.
A fascinating dietary fad, gaining strength in LA at present.
One of my food blogs has had me obsessed with chickpea miso paste as a recipe base for many months now. I want to get some of that stuff so badly.
Odd fruits I've tried in the past week: mountaineer apples, an apple-pear hybrid, tangelos, opal apples, and Cripps Pinks. I will give you my lecture on apples and the prevention of monocultures some other time. :)
I think that that is all for today. I will post again sometime soon. I think another picture post is long overdue: I feel bad just leaving you with these solid blocks of text. Hope you're relatively well, babe! Let me know before the surgery, okay? That's looming if I remember correctly. <3
Packing and flower-crown weaving, here I come.
All affection–
moi
Friday, March 18, 2011
Friday, March 4, 2011
Going on a Dig (And Other Oddments)
Dear Simone–
Things That I Wrote Recently (ALL STILL IN PROGRESS):
---
Welcome to the froth and destruction of springtime, when buds burst all sun-greedy and palpishly pink from the ends of the all-withstanding branches of the young trees. This is the time when things that squirm are called from their earthy havens, when hordes of eager canker worms crawl over the bodies of their dead compatriots to reach the live-giving boughs of the victim oak.
(Words to use as work continues on this piece: unfurling, green, renewal, devoured, twigish)
---
she wrote in blue because
she insisted
blue was the color of dreaming things
things submerged, things surfacing
from the drown-out chaos of the mind
---
Sit Spitting seeds into the grass
Like spitting dry dirt into clay
Weathered, brown and chewed with time
Now fresh and firm, yet bound
To burst, cracking along invisible lines
---
Hello, babe. So this week has been a roller coaster. After a loaded day for exams (Monday was brutal) I basically was out of commission for the rest of the week until today, when it all kicked back into high gear. I played several hours of DDR on Monday night because I couldn't bear the thought of thinking. Mercifully for me (but not so good for him) my Islam and Modernity professor had a sinus infection that caused him to cancel class on Tuesday (it must have been serious if he canceled class–his dedication to giving us the education we should be demanding is one of the reasons I respect Professor Safi so much aside from his brilliance and wonderfully snarky sense of humor). So instead I caught the 11:00 NU bus with Duncan to go and get our friend Kelsey's car. To sum up Kelsey: she keeps a real, functioning sword in her trunk, and I mean a battle-ready sword, not some delicate little fencing foil. From there the three of us went up to Carrboro and (two outdoors shops, one hardware store, one Co-Op, one grocery store and one restaurant lunch later, with a swing through an ornithology store for kicks and giggles) returned to campus with the rest of the gear we had to pick up for our upcoming paleontology trip. The pick axes were probably the greatest source of the strange stares we received. I spent most of the rest of my day ferrying some things to Kate's house for safe-keeping over spring break. Fortunately for ease of transit, I'd found Sienna a few days earlier out by the Student Union (Sienna is my darling Trek bike who I have had since I was ten and who I had recently loaned to a friend). I did so little this week–much sleep was had and focus scarcely showed its face in most of my classes. I didn't really do much adventuring this week, though in a haze of studying madness and with my own solid belief in the goodness of regular purges/destruction of useless/too-well-loved-and-not-sufficiently-deserving things, I deleted my fBook account. You know how to reach me if you need to, and I'm now checking my emails as often as I checked fBook, only without the extra (inevitable) distractions that fBook surrounds you with every time you sign on. Thanks to Apple's Mail program, I can check my school, fun, and alter-ego emails all in one go. It's pretty great. :)
Today was a little different–exams behind me and only one class on the horizon, today was spent walking around campus (so beautiful) and preparing for the paleontology dig that I'm leaving for tomorrow (a little in-dorm improvisational dancing may have fallen in there somewhere too). We are going to leave at 2 in the afternoon and after going up to Kentucky for a little digging, we are carrying on up to Indiana. Tuesday will be dominated by a drive from mid-Indiana to south Florida! Yay? :) We will finish off with a site that we will have to paddle the Alabama River to reach. And then we will return to Chapel Hill, where we will do one final dig on Saturday (I think). I'm super excited, and I'm also proud of how lightly I have been able to pack. One book bag with my clothes and books/smaller equipment cannily slotted in, one sleeping bag, one pillow, one pick axe, and one week of camping fun? Yes, please. Also here's a fun image: I'm borrowing Duncan's hiking boots (since the professor only told us two days ago that we actually would need to have them to get into two of the quarries–this after a semester of writing hiking boots off as non-required). His feet are several sizes larger than my own pointe-shoe-victims, so I'll be wearing thick socks with them and will either look like a total nerd or a bad ass video game character. It'll be great. :D
I took a whole bunch of my artwork and covered a big blank space on my wall with it. I am quite pleased with the effect.
Speaking of artwork, one of my friends (Jack) is starting a campaign similar to my Blue Sharpie campaign around UNC Charlotte's campus. He has left an introductory post in the UNCC library, one that nodded its head to a post of mine. My original read: " 'Coffee' will always mean snogging with you in Freedom Park, after hours, just for the hell of it," but Jack's rendition was a little different. He has yet to create an email to go with his version of the project, and he's still hammering out the details of his identity, but he is totally going through with it. It's flattering, and it gives me hope that such acts really do make a difference in the world. My faith in the high value of reaching out to strangers with all the absurdity and surreality one can muster has always been strong (c.f. my adoration for the movie Amélie), but recently I've been struggling with a lot of things, including (so very sadly) that belief. Jack fills me with the kind of hope that stops sad, weary, and desperate people from doing heartbreaking things. I have wonderful friends.
Speaking of friends, my dear friend George might have a gal pal shortly. I am excited for him. He's been saying that nothing brings him emotion recently, but there is a spark for this girl and it seems to be returned. Fingers crossed.
One more thing I wrote, which I wrote when inspiration struck me this morning in response to recent events. I'm quite please with how it turned out, though there is a possible edge of bitterness that I would love to get completely out (since that is not the tone which I meant to put into this piece):
---
When you see the bird that I drew
Do you think of her?
The one who tiptoes about
Flitting lightly as I
Used to do
Back in the days when I was a dancer.
Does it make you think
of her? The arching neck, curving gracefully
as the long necks of birds do
bringing her lips closer to your own
shoulder, her nose touching
your neck. She studies them
while you laugh
In delight over her shoulder,
Your nose and breath on her
warm human neck,
At things that you know little
And would think little about
Were it not for her love
Fueling an increased
And increasing fascination.
How many oddities
And things have you learned
From the girls you once loved?
The ice skater
The puppeteer
The dancer
And all those flickering interests
In between?
And how many of those learned things,
With your nose and your tickling
spearmint breath,
Did you once whisper into my ear?
---
Today's coffee count? 6 cups within two or three hours of the afternoon. Biology homework flew by in a blur of unnaturally fast reading aloud.
So now, since it is going to be a while before I get to post again (not for another week at least!):
LINKS OF THE DAY (WEEK. WHATEVER.) :)
Songs that have been stuck in my head and on my play lists recently. And a few more recent favorites.
Another song I love, as well as a clip from a youth company based in the Midwest U.S. that I am totally obsessed with (you should check out more of their stuff–here's are my two other favorite pieces, both of which are also set to songs that I have come to adore).
An artist that I like a lot. He does large scale works (sometimes up to 9x9 feet) and tries to capture a sort of terrifying but beautiful quality in today's large-scale urban wastes. My favorites among his work are mostly in his ship breaking project (such stark landscapes, oddly colorful). You can watch a documentary about him too if you want–that's how I found him, through a film class I took in high school with my favorite teacher ever.
Like birds? Here are some geese. And many ducks to spare.
Russian street artists? The story surrounding this is actually pretty cool as a whole.
Did you know that I am addicted to sudoku? Or was. Until college hit. Stupid work ethic. ;)
A video that is almost impossible to not watch. The site that sells the beer boot (Vat 19) has some other entertaining ads if you feel like poking around and this sense of humor appeals to you. They have a variety of different styles of commercial, and their products are total oddities.
This pleases me. I like a museum that can roll with life's little absurdities.
How many of your childhood artworks do you have lying around? What do they do for you that makes them worth keeping (as opposed to, say, taking a quick trip to the bin de recyclage)?
A serious topic, but one that won't be unfamiliar to you. I liked this interview that we listened to for my basic biology class, so here it is. It takes about half an hour if you want to sit through the recording, but you can probably read the transcript faster if you are so inclined. I am definitely pro-stem cell research, for the record.
A poem that a friend recently gave me, saying that it reminded him of me (a thought that disconcerts me). As it happens, one of my all-time favorite poems was also written by John Ashbery. I actually recorded a song that I am passably proud of on the GarageBand program on my laptop which makes use of the text of "The Ecclesiast" as a background to other sounds. Very postmodern music (ha, whatever that means).
Back to Russian people: they're insane. Roofing is something that I can understand, but this takes it to a whole extra level. Still, given the opportunity to do this, I would probably be able to get myself to say yes (and I would certainly be itching to try it, if primal fear weren't in the way).
I follow several web comics, so I will start sending a few your way. Tell me what you think, because I follow a variety of them with different doses of reality, highly variable plot lines, and each their own sense of humor. This one is called Skin Horse and updates (mercifully without fail) every day. If you go to the archive you can start from the beginning. As with all web comics, the art improves as it goes.
I have a snippet of French to do and then some sleep to catch. It is 3 AM and tomorrow's gonna be one helluva busy day. Biology, a speaker on slang in the English language and preparation/departure for the dig await. Tomorrow night: Kentucky!
I will write when I get back home! (To the Hill, that is.) Love you, babe!
Enthusiastically yours,
moi
Things That I Wrote Recently (ALL STILL IN PROGRESS):
---
Welcome to the froth and destruction of springtime, when buds burst all sun-greedy and palpishly pink from the ends of the all-withstanding branches of the young trees. This is the time when things that squirm are called from their earthy havens, when hordes of eager canker worms crawl over the bodies of their dead compatriots to reach the live-giving boughs of the victim oak.
(Words to use as work continues on this piece: unfurling, green, renewal, devoured, twigish)
---
she wrote in blue because
she insisted
blue was the color of dreaming things
things submerged, things surfacing
from the drown-out chaos of the mind
---
Sit Spitting seeds into the grass
Like spitting dry dirt into clay
Weathered, brown and chewed with time
Now fresh and firm, yet bound
To burst, cracking along invisible lines
---
Hello, babe. So this week has been a roller coaster. After a loaded day for exams (Monday was brutal) I basically was out of commission for the rest of the week until today, when it all kicked back into high gear. I played several hours of DDR on Monday night because I couldn't bear the thought of thinking. Mercifully for me (but not so good for him) my Islam and Modernity professor had a sinus infection that caused him to cancel class on Tuesday (it must have been serious if he canceled class–his dedication to giving us the education we should be demanding is one of the reasons I respect Professor Safi so much aside from his brilliance and wonderfully snarky sense of humor). So instead I caught the 11:00 NU bus with Duncan to go and get our friend Kelsey's car. To sum up Kelsey: she keeps a real, functioning sword in her trunk, and I mean a battle-ready sword, not some delicate little fencing foil. From there the three of us went up to Carrboro and (two outdoors shops, one hardware store, one Co-Op, one grocery store and one restaurant lunch later, with a swing through an ornithology store for kicks and giggles) returned to campus with the rest of the gear we had to pick up for our upcoming paleontology trip. The pick axes were probably the greatest source of the strange stares we received. I spent most of the rest of my day ferrying some things to Kate's house for safe-keeping over spring break. Fortunately for ease of transit, I'd found Sienna a few days earlier out by the Student Union (Sienna is my darling Trek bike who I have had since I was ten and who I had recently loaned to a friend). I did so little this week–much sleep was had and focus scarcely showed its face in most of my classes. I didn't really do much adventuring this week, though in a haze of studying madness and with my own solid belief in the goodness of regular purges/destruction of useless/too-well-loved-and-not-sufficiently-deserving things, I deleted my fBook account. You know how to reach me if you need to, and I'm now checking my emails as often as I checked fBook, only without the extra (inevitable) distractions that fBook surrounds you with every time you sign on. Thanks to Apple's Mail program, I can check my school, fun, and alter-ego emails all in one go. It's pretty great. :)
Today was a little different–exams behind me and only one class on the horizon, today was spent walking around campus (so beautiful) and preparing for the paleontology dig that I'm leaving for tomorrow (a little in-dorm improvisational dancing may have fallen in there somewhere too). We are going to leave at 2 in the afternoon and after going up to Kentucky for a little digging, we are carrying on up to Indiana. Tuesday will be dominated by a drive from mid-Indiana to south Florida! Yay? :) We will finish off with a site that we will have to paddle the Alabama River to reach. And then we will return to Chapel Hill, where we will do one final dig on Saturday (I think). I'm super excited, and I'm also proud of how lightly I have been able to pack. One book bag with my clothes and books/smaller equipment cannily slotted in, one sleeping bag, one pillow, one pick axe, and one week of camping fun? Yes, please. Also here's a fun image: I'm borrowing Duncan's hiking boots (since the professor only told us two days ago that we actually would need to have them to get into two of the quarries–this after a semester of writing hiking boots off as non-required). His feet are several sizes larger than my own pointe-shoe-victims, so I'll be wearing thick socks with them and will either look like a total nerd or a bad ass video game character. It'll be great. :D
I took a whole bunch of my artwork and covered a big blank space on my wall with it. I am quite pleased with the effect.
Speaking of artwork, one of my friends (Jack) is starting a campaign similar to my Blue Sharpie campaign around UNC Charlotte's campus. He has left an introductory post in the UNCC library, one that nodded its head to a post of mine. My original read: " 'Coffee' will always mean snogging with you in Freedom Park, after hours, just for the hell of it," but Jack's rendition was a little different. He has yet to create an email to go with his version of the project, and he's still hammering out the details of his identity, but he is totally going through with it. It's flattering, and it gives me hope that such acts really do make a difference in the world. My faith in the high value of reaching out to strangers with all the absurdity and surreality one can muster has always been strong (c.f. my adoration for the movie Amélie), but recently I've been struggling with a lot of things, including (so very sadly) that belief. Jack fills me with the kind of hope that stops sad, weary, and desperate people from doing heartbreaking things. I have wonderful friends.
Speaking of friends, my dear friend George might have a gal pal shortly. I am excited for him. He's been saying that nothing brings him emotion recently, but there is a spark for this girl and it seems to be returned. Fingers crossed.
One more thing I wrote, which I wrote when inspiration struck me this morning in response to recent events. I'm quite please with how it turned out, though there is a possible edge of bitterness that I would love to get completely out (since that is not the tone which I meant to put into this piece):
---
When you see the bird that I drew
Do you think of her?
The one who tiptoes about
Flitting lightly as I
Used to do
Back in the days when I was a dancer.
Does it make you think
of her? The arching neck, curving gracefully
as the long necks of birds do
bringing her lips closer to your own
shoulder, her nose touching
your neck. She studies them
while you laugh
In delight over her shoulder,
Your nose and breath on her
warm human neck,
At things that you know little
And would think little about
Were it not for her love
Fueling an increased
And increasing fascination.
How many oddities
And things have you learned
From the girls you once loved?
The ice skater
The puppeteer
The dancer
And all those flickering interests
In between?
And how many of those learned things,
With your nose and your tickling
spearmint breath,
Did you once whisper into my ear?
---
Today's coffee count? 6 cups within two or three hours of the afternoon. Biology homework flew by in a blur of unnaturally fast reading aloud.
So now, since it is going to be a while before I get to post again (not for another week at least!):
LINKS OF THE DAY (WEEK. WHATEVER.) :)
Songs that have been stuck in my head and on my play lists recently. And a few more recent favorites.
Another song I love, as well as a clip from a youth company based in the Midwest U.S. that I am totally obsessed with (you should check out more of their stuff–here's are my two other favorite pieces, both of which are also set to songs that I have come to adore).
An artist that I like a lot. He does large scale works (sometimes up to 9x9 feet) and tries to capture a sort of terrifying but beautiful quality in today's large-scale urban wastes. My favorites among his work are mostly in his ship breaking project (such stark landscapes, oddly colorful). You can watch a documentary about him too if you want–that's how I found him, through a film class I took in high school with my favorite teacher ever.
Like birds? Here are some geese. And many ducks to spare.
Russian street artists? The story surrounding this is actually pretty cool as a whole.
Did you know that I am addicted to sudoku? Or was. Until college hit. Stupid work ethic. ;)
A video that is almost impossible to not watch. The site that sells the beer boot (Vat 19) has some other entertaining ads if you feel like poking around and this sense of humor appeals to you. They have a variety of different styles of commercial, and their products are total oddities.
This pleases me. I like a museum that can roll with life's little absurdities.
How many of your childhood artworks do you have lying around? What do they do for you that makes them worth keeping (as opposed to, say, taking a quick trip to the bin de recyclage)?
A serious topic, but one that won't be unfamiliar to you. I liked this interview that we listened to for my basic biology class, so here it is. It takes about half an hour if you want to sit through the recording, but you can probably read the transcript faster if you are so inclined. I am definitely pro-stem cell research, for the record.
A poem that a friend recently gave me, saying that it reminded him of me (a thought that disconcerts me). As it happens, one of my all-time favorite poems was also written by John Ashbery. I actually recorded a song that I am passably proud of on the GarageBand program on my laptop which makes use of the text of "The Ecclesiast" as a background to other sounds. Very postmodern music (ha, whatever that means).
Back to Russian people: they're insane. Roofing is something that I can understand, but this takes it to a whole extra level. Still, given the opportunity to do this, I would probably be able to get myself to say yes (and I would certainly be itching to try it, if primal fear weren't in the way).
I follow several web comics, so I will start sending a few your way. Tell me what you think, because I follow a variety of them with different doses of reality, highly variable plot lines, and each their own sense of humor. This one is called Skin Horse and updates (mercifully without fail) every day. If you go to the archive you can start from the beginning. As with all web comics, the art improves as it goes.
I have a snippet of French to do and then some sleep to catch. It is 3 AM and tomorrow's gonna be one helluva busy day. Biology, a speaker on slang in the English language and preparation/departure for the dig await. Tomorrow night: Kentucky!
I will write when I get back home! (To the Hill, that is.) Love you, babe!
Enthusiastically yours,
moi
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