20:18 - Friday, Jun. 04, 2004 pretty soon
dear diary: i have a lot of books and not enough brain.
p.s. apparently it IS possible to make soup out of strawberries and avocados. pretty soon i'm going to take all the fucked up sketches in my taking-notes-notebook and render them in pastel.
19:00 - Thursday, Jun. 03, 2004 i got honked at by the bound
one after another, the library clicker clicked-checked out to me:
sex work: writings by women in the sex industry.
all you needed was love: the beatles after the beatles.
i sing the body electric! by ray bradbury.
the kama sutra of vatsyayana: the classic hindu treatise on love and social conduct.
brave new world, by aldous huxley.
and
the journals of sylvia plath.
'what,' the checkout girl said as she slammed each barcoded cover shut, 'are you kidding me?'
'i'm doing a paper on robo-sylvia plath in the distant future striking her lover, and the appropriate sound for that, to a background of four-part british harmony, and the implications that might have on the sex industry.' i replied.
in music technology we learned about how it takes years and years of tedious splicing to do a primitive from of electronic music, and how these men gave up their lives and grew hunchbacks sampling and splitting, in the name of musique concrete and similar futurist movements, and then he played an example of what this music sounded like, and it was all
bleep splonk bleep bleep splorp whooooorl.
i laughed. i shouldn't have. i got my ass glared at. and on the way back i got honked at by the bound.
10:33 - Tuesday, Jun. 01, 2004 start this again
okay, i'm going to try to start this again...
it's scary to try to log your trip in your paper journal only to find you've forgotten how to write. i think, over the years, this has been all that has been keeping me in practice. all the creative writing teachers screaming about journals weren't too far off, though they did scream about 'fiction journals, fiction. not everyday life. no one wants to hear about that.'
how true. only friends and people living vicariously. and people who have at some point taken to how i write things. sometimes i don't really understand. almost everyone i know has a blog now; almost everyone got it later than i did. i don't think that when i signed up it was so much of an epidemic. i mean, i understand the motivation and everything, but.. maybe it's like reality tv, only in words. in that case, it's a step up, right?
back to my non-fiction journal now.
ever since i returned to boulder there has been hardly a moment of boredom, which rocks. i got back thursday night, and friday morning spent moving, semi-unpacking, learning my way around the house, etc. that night andrew, lara, gail, and jeremy came over and jumped on the trampoline. saturday: errands, stops in parks, watching thunderstorms from under playground bandshells. when i saw the first stroke of lightning, i had to convince nick that it probably wasn't a good idea to be on the equipment we were on, which was a giant metal rocketship pointing to the sky; the tallest thing on the playground. saturday: boulder creek festival, and saw 'mean girls' at the three dollar cinema because it's the three dollar cinema, and it was supposed to be set in evanston, but 'old orchard' was an indoor mall and it was something like 'north shore school', which is wrong, wrong, wrong... and i bet once the certificate to walker bros was cashed in, they went to a place much like IHOP. hmph. sunday was the bolder boulder, a 10K race in which a million trillion people participated. i want to do it next year, but only because finishers get free massages.
and today; today is my first day of summer classes. um, class. music technology; that's all. every day for an hour and a half.
boulder in the summer is gorgeous. it is not bone dry and bipolar, swinging from 90 to 20 to 80 to 30. it stays in the 60s, 70s, and 80s, and actually rains sometimes. i have a trampoline in my backyard, and haven't fallen through yet. i mean... i HAVE a backyard, even. with a hammock and a grill, too. i may be in some form of heaven, but check back later. especially dependent on job status, i guess. have to go shower for school. if i don't write here with some form of regularity, please bombard me with angry messages... please.
