iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii eyes

This wasn't posted in the Amsterdam pictures. I don't know why because it should have been. It is my favorite.

salvia apple lesson

These will probably come off the internet, but I think you look beautiful

(and you think so too)

Just because it looks cool doesn't mean it is.

Smoking salvia out of an apple does not work.

things that are overrated

all lists online are in progress

give me suggestions

things that are overrated

the Magnetic Fields

Miranda July

Emily Dickinson (added by Garrett "Fluoride Beard" Johnson)

R.E.M. (added by Garrett "Fluoride Beard" Johnson)

oreo cookies

things that are underrated

flossing

Radhika ginger tea

I send my love to India.

Radhika Sen drinking coffee on the fire escape
Summer 2008

tallow tree

This is an enlarged xerox of a holga photo I took, so not the best quality. But it was a quality shopping cart.

Tallow Tree, Jefferson Parish, New Orleans, Louisiana

********http://www.wwltv.com/crime/stories/wwl071907candyman.8fd040ec.html

********

Carmello

This is my old neighbor Carmello. he gives me chocolate, sometimes he kisses me on the cheek and sometimes my cheek is wet when I get to my door. I don't know his last name. Once I saw him in Tina's after I moved to Bed-Stuy and he had grown a beard; a sign of forlornness.

Deli on the corner of Wilson Ave & George St, Bushwick, Brooklyn, New York
September 2008

adv nf

I took Advanced Non Fictionwith a professor who had terrible reviews on Amazon. When I first looked her up (I look them all up,) her name drew two types of work: 'Creative non fiction' work about Russian ballet, early American cinema and the biography of a woman's life written by her closet. The other was an autobiography written by one of Ted Bundy's ex-girlfriends. You can probably figure out which one she was.


Things I wrote included
an essay about Josef Koudelka
'How to Score an Israeli Soldier' American Girl Taglit Summer
New Orleans travelogue
a short story about forgetting things




some writing exercises are ridiculous. like recreating a moment in three sentences.

I wipe Abita foam from my upper lip. I am sitting on the front steps with Travis and smoking my first cigarette of the Summer. We are discussing the latest fight and lunchtime gossip.

Standing alone if front of a room full of buzzing brown eyeballs. My body begins to itch with anger and skin grows pinker with anger and embarrassment. Finally, as the messiness seems to be under control, a loud voice is thrown from the corner. He asks me where I’m from; he tells me, “What you ah doin, it’s alotta like teachin’.” A man named Mr. Omar.

Flying down a dead road named Freemanville. The air smells like horses and construction. I still get lost on night roads around my parents house.

starting again

3:19 AM

I have moved since the last time I wrote.
Then I owned no furniture and slept on the floor.

Now I live in a house, a brownstone much like the Huxtable's, about 15 blocks away from my old apartment. I share it with three other girls.
I have a mattress and a bed frame. I use them almost every night.