I decided to work on my college apps downstairs across the dining room table from my Mother so that whenever I go on youtube, tumblr, facebook, other time wasting sites I’d feel guilty about/paranoid that my Mom would reprimand me for getting off task. I round the corner of my staircase and find my Mom in my old orange Aeropostale hoodie plastered onto my similarly colored painted wall. She makes eye contact with me and then proceeds to glance around furtively and whisper, “Bleeeending in. You can’t seeeeee me.”
“The tomato soup capsule would break on contact with saliva,” Prof Hart said, “followed by roast beef and blueberry pie in stronger structures providing a sequential taste explosion as you chew harder.”
and now for everlasting gobstoppers
not attending the Bhangra workshops I don’t think I’ll be able to teach myself the routine. BUMMER I SO want to be on the Bhangra team.
I love the Discovery Channel especially Discovery Health (and Mystery Diagnosis in particular) but that has nothing to do with what I’m about to share:
Friday was the Link Crew Halloween Carnival! I love how the simplest/silliest activities are the ones that make me laugh the most (and the most obnoxiously). I learned that Debbie is an aggressive apple bobber, that I am terrible at eating without using my hands, and that I suck at limbo. I scraped my knee for the first time in a loooong time trying to limbo under a bar that was fairly (okay wrong adjective. I should use “really” but lettuce use fairly) high but I still couldn’t do it and ended up falling.
Sofa and I competed in two eating without your hands contests. The first contest involved unearthing gummy worms hidden in whipped cream and the second contest involved eating jello without your hands. I just looked like I was making out with the plate. IT WAS AWESOME. Like that one time Regina George punched me in the face. I heard her hairs insured for $10,000 and that John Stamos called her pretty.
Next time you guys have nothing to do or even if you guys have things to do, you should definitely take some time to be silly and race to see who can eat jello without using their hands the fastest.
I just wanted to jot my dream down somewhere more permanent than a square of toilet paper with my writing crawling up the sides/every which way. Again, I digress too much! I’ve bolded my actual dream to differentiate between dream and digressions/commentary.
I was in a subway station watching this band perform. Tom was the frontman and he was wearing his jeans with those star-ish studs that I always picture him wearing. (I imagine certain people wearing specific clothes like they’re characters out of a cartoon stuck wearing the same clothes in every episode. Brianna is always wearing this nude babydoll shirt dress, Alexa is always wearing her beret with that one animal printed clip, and Berta is always wearing his blue striped sweater) Joanne (not me! A girl I know named Joanne. I wish I were musical! I played piano for 4 months but quit because I cried every time I had to practice. I sucked at sight reading and would get extremely anxious while I was practicing) was the bass player and they also had a keytarist wearing a flamingo costume and a triangle player! Mr. Bale was their tour manager. I was off to the side laying (Gosh I still don’t know the difference between lay, lie, etc. I’m probably coming off as uneducated but it’s all good) on the couch (I’ve told you before how I struggle with typing coach instead of couch right?! In 8th grade I wrote “I was on the coach,” in one of my assignments. Hoy boy I had some explaining to do.) that’s in my living room. At this point, my living room had merged with the subway station somehow I didn’t think anything was off.
In a dream I had before this dream, I was at homework center and Mr. Dybdhal was telling me that he just turned down an offer to be a tour manager and had talked to Mr. Bale about being the tour manager instead. My dreams merged together!!!!! HOW COOL!!!! DEFFOS DESERVES THE MULTIPLE EXCLAMATION POINTS AND CAPS. YOU KNOW I NEVER USE CAPSLOCK. I JUST KEEP SHIFT DOWN WITH MY LEFT PINKY. I KNOW THAT CAPSLOCK IS AN OPTION BUT I NEVER USE IT. WHY JOANNE?!
Then, my dream shifted and I found myself in my Grandma’s house except the exterior had been painted pale yellow and there was this huge grandfather clock in the middle of the street. In the backyard there was this grape vine that produced ginormous grapes and there were cartoon blue birds flying around. I peered out into the road to check what time it was on the grandfather clock. I then compared the time to the time on the digital clock on the stove. The grandfather clock was 15 minutes ahead. And that’s all that I remember. I wish I had lucid dreamt! I haven’t had a lucid dream in forever Sometimes I try to but I just end up not letting myself fall asleep for an hour and a half ish until I give up and let myself fall asleep. I should have thought to check the digital clock again (because I’ve read that to gain consciousness in dreams, you should look at a digital clock and see that it shows different times every time you look at it) but it didn’t occur to me that the events of my dream were strange until I woke up.
Psychopaths, or sociopaths as some prefer to call them, are well known figures in our culture. We’re fascinated by their predatory relationship with the rest of humanity. Their chilling alien-ness makes them convenient villains in books, film, and television. When we encounter them in real life,…
Please don’t interpret my NEAT-O tag as “I’M WATCHING HOW YOU WALK. I’M OUT TO GET YOU” Yup just scared myself.
is defined as affectedly refined in manners or tastes.
I had no idea (I always want to add an r to the end of idea to make it idear. It just rollllllls off the tip of my tongue better.) la-di-da was a real word! Neat-o!
What thoughts I have of you tonight Walt Whitman, for I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon.
In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!
What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes!—and you, Garcia Lorca, what were you doing down by the watermelons?
I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys.
I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel?
I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans following you, and followed in my imagination by the store detective.
We strode down the open corridors together in our solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen delicacy, and never passing the cashier.
Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in an hour. Which way does your beard point tonight?
(I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the supermarket and feel absurd.)
Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we’ll both be lonely.
Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage?
Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher, what America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and you got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat disappear on the black waters of Lethe?
By Allen Ginsberg
An Italian singer wrote this song with gibberish to sound like English. Interesting.