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friday april 30th 2004
5:57 p

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1:48 a
this is revolting

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thursday april 29th 2004
11:58 a
When I'm with you
I never have a problem when I'm with you
I'm really well-adjusted when I'm with you, with you, with you
When I'm with you

When I'm with you
I lose a lot of sleep when I'm with you
I meet a lot of people when I'm with you, with you, with you
When I'm with you
It's the break in the song
When I should say something special
But the pressure is on and I can't make up nothing special
Not when I'm with you

When I'm with you
I never feel like garbage when I'm with you
I almost feel normal when I'm with you
When I'm with you

When I'm with you
I'm always hot and bothered when I'm with you
I always need a shower when I'm with you, with you, with you
When I'm with you
It's that break in the song
When I should say something special
But the pressure is on and I can't make up nothing special
Not when I'm with you

When I'm with you
I never need a mirror when I'm with you
I don't care what I look like when I'm with you, with you, with you
When I'm with you

[Merci à Mlle. Shirley]

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wednesday april 28th 2004
8:16 p
gracias por absolutamente nada.

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4:18 p
ok, any smithies who have used health services for their annual gyn exam will know what i'm talking about -- what the fuck is up with their medical/social history sheet? like, i'm already going to be violated by a speculum, do i really need to be emotionally violated by the complete disregard for personal privacy that the history sheet presents? i mean, yeah, i see the need for asking questions on your personal health history and family history, but some of those questions are blatantly out of line. why does this sheet need to know if you've had anal sex? like, hopefully if you're a mature person and are experiencing health problems as a result of any sexual activity, you'd be enough of an adult to present them to your health care provider. why does this sheet seek to know whether i've been a victim of childhood sexual abuse or incest? yeah, possibly it would be helpful for a health provider to know about that and thusly be more sensitive to your needs, but that also just reinforces the stigma that surviors are not able to have normal and healthy sex lives and must receive 'special treatment'. why does the history sheet need to know if my parents are alive and what the cause of their deaths were? yes, again, helpful for health history -- but answering that question on a bright yellow piece of PAPER THAT WILL REMAIN IN MY FILE FOREVER does a lot more damage to me, personally than the potential damage of witholding that information. why does the health history sheet need to know how many sexual partners i've had? why does the health history sheet need to know if i engage in oral sex with women? why does the health history sheet need to know if i'm HAPPY AT SMITH? such questions reinforce this stupid guilt that DOESN'T NEED TO EXIST. if i've had 15 sexual partners, i'm basically forced into lying because who wants their doctor/nurse to know they've had sex with 15 people -- automatic stigma. automatic guilt. automatic discomfort. i'm sorry if i don't want chris, carol or leslie himself or any of the folks up on the big brick building on the hill to know how many men have penetrated my asshole with their penis. if someone wants to get an HIV test then they'll do that on their own accord, they don't need to be guilted or pressured into doing it because of their health care professional's interpretation of their 'precarious' sexual behavior. and just for the record, none of the above actually refers to me personally, but i'm taking one for the team here -- no one should have to feel uncomfortable, or guilty, or have to lie on a health history sheet just because the nature of the language of the document makes you feel like a whore. or a basketcase. or like someone other than the 0-3 ideal they push for so hard here.

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11:49 a
hey all, i finally removed the mug of rotting tea from my room!

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monday april 26th 2004
1:49 p
to all that attended: how was the march?

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3:18 a
some [weekend] highlights:

_going to h&m & 'acquiring' new black leaf earrings.
_'acquiring' an awesome vintage velveteen (fitted!) blazer
_going to bueno with katie
_eating baguette and cheese on my bed
_astroglide tasting good
_cheap books / cool bathroom (montague book mill)
_tire farm / sheep farm (historic deerfield)
_red sox winning :waves pennant:
_smoking pot in the japanese tea hut
_watching my rock video monthly '94 tape
_fruit loops and boxed wine (s. braha)
_"syrian jews are not very retro"
_taking my clothes off the bed and not being able to see the floor again
_the fact that this is still here
_smelling the footprints of [your] smells

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sunday april 25th 2004
9:50 p
ok let me just start out this post by saying that i'm an impatient asshole. that post i wrote the other day? about being pissed about neil not coming up this weekend? well, i spoke about 4 hours too soon. i came up to my room after dinner to my cell telling me that i had a message. and lo and behold it was a cryptic message from neil, indicating to me to call him back. so i return the call and during the entire conversation i'm passive aggressively being pissed off cause he's not up here -- well after about 15 minutes into our conversation, i ask him where he is and he says "i'm sitting outside your window."

well, enough said. & with that, i had one of the most awesome amazing awesome 27 hours of my life.

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saturday april 24th 2004
5:49 p
Bush/Cheney '04: Because you don't change horsemen mid-Apocalypse.

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2:00 p
im not sure why exactly, but i tend to convince myself of things that logically would never happen. i'm not sure if its because subconciously i want the pain of disappointment, or what. but i somehow got myself believing that neil was going to come up here today. no logic behind that, no nothing. i'm just retarded.

addendum: i'm an asshole.

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friday april 23rd 2004
11:19 p
this afternoon when i napped, i think i was being raped by gary niswonger. how fucked up is that. not like, hardcore assault ambush style rape, but a slower more seductive type of a rape. a rape that ended in me coalescing. ew, so fucked up that i just remembered that now. i don't know what triggered the thought of that man.

went to h&m and bought some stuff that i didn't really need. but i did end up getting this pink polka dotted bra that gives me awesome cleave. i think i need a [real] job just so that i can go shopping more often. f paying rent, f buying groceries. i do like the bra, though. i should have bought the matching underwear.

oh, and my stepfather emailed me & called my cell today to tell me that we're flying first class to portland. (wtf?) i wonder if i'll get carded in first class. so that should be interesting. the whole lighter-buying situation made me really evaluate everything about my appearance! oh, and the best part about that scenario was that when i gave her my id it literally took her about 15-20 seconds to do the math. like, hello! 1984 - 2004, that's like, twenty years! easy easy math, lady. come on. & in other developments, julia, tonight, a) taught me how to parallel park, and b) fixed my windshield wiper. i'm excited for portland, i love that city.

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10:54 p
i guess i just feel like i understand it. i feel like mental illness (depression) + poor judgement + impulsiveness sorta explains it. being angry, sad, depress, hopeless -- you make a noose, get on a stool, put it around your neck, and then kick away the stool -- and kerplooey, you're done. it's over. it's not a slow, languid death. you can't patch up the wounds or call an ambulance. you wait a few seconds, getting off on the thrill of it, and the endorphins that are released as your brain dies of ischemia. you can't really stop and evaluate what you're doing, it's too late. thats why very few men kill themselves by way of razorblade or pill bottle, there's nothing permanent about them, they're fixable. now a shot to the head? that's different.

tim sharkey, i haven't talked to him since like 10th or 11th grade. but fuck man, why? he was attractive, athletic, outgoing and popular. i had a crush on him when i was in 8th grade. we were always on the same gym volleyball team. and we always won. he dated a friend of mine at the time. he did call my friend a nympho, and i'm sure he was an asshole some of the time, but shit, did he have to die?

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thursday april 22nd 2004
9:10 p
last night i
dj'd a freeform radio show with shirley
drank boxed white wine out of blue plastic cups
got carded at a truck stop for buying a lighter
wtf! a lighter!
shirley had me convinced that i looked 16
waiter in the diner said 25
(don't particularly agree with that statement, but 16?)
you look like a hot teenager!
i should be proud?

art school rejects is the name of my soon-to-be defunct weekly freeform radio show. too bad that i waited till there was a week left in the semester to give my show a name. oh well, it was fun. our station is new and pathetic. its so white and sterile. davis way way cooler, with the circa 1971 equipment too.

im not sure if i want to go brunette. my hair just kind of sucks now. time for another $700 dye job. also, in no way shape or form am i responsible for the gay sign thats hanging above me in that picture.

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sunday april 18th 2004
6:05 p
wish you were here wish you were here wish you were here wish you were here wish you were here wish you were here wish you were here wish you were here wish you were here wish you were here wish you were here wish you were here wish you were here wish you were here wish you were here wish you were here wish you were here wish you were here wish you were here wish you were here wish you were here wish you were here

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1:51 p
last night i dreamt that i was on some kind of class trip with frazer. we were on a new york city cheese bus, and his wife was there, except she looked exactly like me in the dream, except her eyes were greener. she was sitting across from me in the booth of some diner (don't know how we got there) and i couldn't stop looking at her, i told her that i was a 'starer' and that i couldn't help it. it was pouring in the dream, and i was sitting next to frazer on the bus, and i was like lying on him and i could feel his heart beating in the dream. then i got off the bus and was walking in the rain only to realize that i left my keys on the bus -- so i was walking somewhere in queens in the rain, and then i woke up. oooh, the symbolism is striking.

today is also another gorgeous beautiful gorgeous day. wilderstock is hosting the annual 'quadstock' and it actually seems semi-decent. imagine that. too bad i'm stuck inside for the majority of the with hot glue gun in hand. i'm on my way to completing mask #4 out of 13. goal is to complete at least half of the masks by the time kc & brooks get here.

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saturday april 17th 2004
10:04 p
so f'ing nice out today, makes me want to vomit its so nice. spent the bulk of the afternoon driving in the gloriousness that was this spring day -- windows down, listening to wmua. made me appreciate how great it is to drive in the valley. got stuck in bridge traffic on the way back, regretted not taking that side-road detour that leaves you by the asian food market. but those hills man, hills! this weather made me regret not going to coachella with mike -- driving into the desert for two days, just that open road experience. just the drive. but it couldn't have happened anyway -- more road trips will be had this summer, i hope. i mean, i finally have a vehicle in my possession, so why the f not?

so anxious about my summer plans -- everything is so completely tenuous. have no idea what i'll be doing, nothing seems to be working out at all -- my adviser advised me to spend the summer "hanging out" so that i'm "not so strung out all the time." i wish it were that simple. i wish i could statisfy everyone, satisfy myself to make that happen. i want to take a class but it'd be ~4 grand, and i don't even remotely have access to that kind of bank. i'm so grateful to my parents for helping me out all the time, whenever i need money, i always get it -- my mom always helps me out, so it just seems wrong to ask for more. this entire semester, these past 4 months have been a fucking daily struggle -- i've lived each day on the brink of unravelling completely -- where's my fucking award?

something decent, please happen.

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thursday april 15th 2004
2:52 a
awesome shirley quote:
"these people obviously don't know who i am since they're playing pulp and superdrag"

wbar kicks our ass, btw.

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monday april 12th 2004
12:11 p
should i spend $80 i don't have on a john edward ticket? i know you all are going to say no, so please someone out there support this capricious decision. and if you don't know who john edward is, well then, that's too bad. i've always wanted to go to one of his tapings or seminars, but they sell out almost immediately, especially on long island (where he's from). somehow i think the $80 is worth it, even if the chances are 1 in 100 that i'll get read.

this is his site and if you make fun of him or make fun of me for liking him, then i'll de-friend you immediately!

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sunday april 11th 2004
10:01 p
applying for a visa in a language i can't read. i can't read czech for shit. it's more like polish than russian. russian/czech cognates sound a lot alike, but written they're completely different. uh, considering that written czech isn't based on a cyrrilic alphabet like russian is.

i wish everyone would stop talking. i don't want to hear laughter, i don't want to hear voices mumbling outside my door, i don't want to be woken up by the people fucking upstairs. i feel like a pest. i shouldn't feel like a pest. i shouldn't have the reflex to disconnect the battery from my phone. i shouldn't throw it across the room and struggle to find it when it rings again.

upon viewing KIDS for the umpteenth time the other day, i think i finally realized how brilliant it really is. aside from the [brilliant] script and the [brilliant] direction, lou barlow's music just kicks fucking ass. seriously, that man is so fucking right-on with everything. i know i've mentioned him before, but i think today finally did it for me -- he is something. blew me away with his raw unabashed complete unadulterated fucking awesome modesty. i mean, the man models all of their merch! he even models the womens baby ts! i told shirley that he had the capacity to be my perfect man and she responded with something along the lines of, 'no way, he's like totally mental.' well, even better.

& for some reason, i just downloaded all these giorgio moroder disco porn era mp3s. & given the proper context, knights in white satin could be an amazing soundtrack to my life.

i cry cuz i'm drunk
i plead cuz i'm down

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