like a sandwich on a checkerboard [entries|heathens|records]
future kitsch

[ website | jerkspace ]
[ userinfo | a delicate balance ]
[ calendar | all my past and futures ]

"I hope they see this because I'm doing it as hard as I can." [31 Jan 2007|11:59pm]
[ mood | awesome. ]



they blurred the middle finger.
they blurred the middle finger.
they BLURRED the MIDDLE FINGER.

this is the best thing to ever happen.

[ sit and chat ]

vs. [31 Dec 2006|10:27pm]
the darker the night, the brighter the stars;
the deeper the grief, the closer is god.

goodbye 2006, goodbye, goodbye.
hello 2007, hello, hello.
[ sit and chat ]

descendre et monter [28 Sep 2006|10:03pm]
[ mood | ambivalent ]

1. 
    A few weeks ago, I ignored a woman. She appeared vaguely homeless; she appeared to be talking to me, but I had my headphones on. In a matter of paces I realized what I had done, and wished I had not done it. I wanted to be less callous, but it was too late. The moment had come and gone, and I had ignored her.

    It was windy in the empty church parking lot when I saw her again. I recognized her pacing, pacing, head down and I wanted to say that I was sorry. She probably wouldn't even remember me, she wouldn't remember me out of all those other faces that have probably ignored her since and will probably ignore her still. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

2. 
   A homeless man in a tie-dyed shirt, missing teeth, said to me: "Hello pretty, how are you today?" I had my headphones on, but I smiled at him as I walked by.

[ 1 stayed and chewed the fat |sit and chat ]

give us this day our daily commute [16 Aug 2006|11:46pm]
[ mood | headache ]

Livejournal, are you there? It's me, Margaret.

So, I'm finally moved into the new house in Philadelphia. We have a view of the skyline, a roof with no railings (death), a Victorian couch, and a cat. These last three things may not mesh well. Also, we have a bar less than a block away which serves Strongbow and, obviously, this is the best (worst) thing that has ever happened to me. Wait, just kidding. The best (worst) thing to happen to me is actually the fact that one of my housemates, Liz, works at a chocolate shop/cupcake bakery. Doomed. Well, I joined a spectacular gym (with a whole lot of gay men) but.. the cupcakes will win in the end. They always do.

In other news, I applied for a job teaching piano and guitar to little kids. This has potential for good or evil, as of yet undecided. My interview is tomorrow, so hopefully that goes well.

My computer combusted on the way down here, and that's upsetting. Further upsetting is the sad matter that I have been entirely too sober for entirely too long. Either my housemates need to liven up or I need to liven down. I vote for the former.

I feel boring, and this must be rectified. I've pretty much set myself upon moving to London next year, possibly with Jaimie (housemate), so the present feels relatively transitional. Once we start the whole band thing on a regular basis, I imagine I'll feel more fulfilled in my existence. And the French classes I'll be taking should help. Antsy! Ee.

Full of aspirations. And animosity. Words to live by.

[ 1 stayed and chewed the fat |sit and chat ]

stories my grandparents told me (in parts) [07 Jun 2006|10:48pm]
[ mood | cold ]

1. So, we're sitting around the kitchen talking about food, as it tends to happen. My grandfather and grandmother are talking about something, until my grandfather asks, "Hey Jean, what happened to your cake?" Clearly, he knows something I do not.
"My cake? I threw it out!"
"Why?" There is sadness in my grandfather's voice.
"I only had two eggs! I needed four!" Running out of food almost never happens in my grandparents' house. This is a travesty. My little white-haired grandmother is quite full of irritation right now.
"You should have just cut the cake in half! You need to learn some ingenuity!" Obviously, my grandfather is no chef.

2. My grandfather no longer excels in the fine art of hearing. After dinner tonight, I asked if there were any peas left from dinner.
"We got some cheddar in the fridge!" my grandfather helpfully replies.
"PEAS!" My grandmother and I yell, simultaneously.

3. All of a sudden, my grandfather comes out with the line "So, I need to tell you about my May 31st Debacle.." Immediately I know that this is going to be a fantastic yarn. Either that or a really bad joke involving a three-legged pig. In this case, it turned out to be the former. My grandmother, my father and I are all waiting in anticipation of what misadventure befell my grandfather this time.
"So, May 31st. I'm coming back from the doctor's and I decide to stop by Roche's [my grandparent's favorite grocery store] on the way back home and grab a few things. I come out with my purchases, just two bags y'know, and I go to get into the car. I had the white Buick, and y'know we've been having some troubles with all the cars so I go to open the door and it won't open. So I figure I grabbed the wrong keys or something, maybe some other keys to a different car were near me in the car and I grabbed them instead. There I am with my bags of groceries, locked out, no phone or anything, so I figure I can go in and see if the manager can help me."
At this point, we're all shaking our heads, waiting for the rest of the tale to unfold. This sort of thing happens to my grandfather occasionally, so we aren't that surprised. In fact, this is one of the tamer adventures. He continues.
"The manager comes out with me and we see that the window is open a crack. So I go, 'If I could just press that unlock button in there with my cane, I could get in!'.."
"..Carl, this is the reason why senior citizens have a bad name!" My grandmother is the queen of interjecting my grandfather's story with sarcastic bits of insight. He disregards the interruption, and goes on again.
"Anyways, I get my cane in there and press the unlock button so the door opens right up. I thank the manager and get my bags in and everything, ready to head home. I go to put the key in the ignition, but the key won't work! So, I look around to see if there were another set of keys or something in the car until I realize, this isn't my car!"
We all bust ourselves up laughing, seriously. Even my grandfather is laughing so hard he's crying. Now this story makes sense, because it has reached the appropriate calibre of ridiculous to be expected in my grandfather's stories. Once the laughter dies down enough for my grandfather to be audible again, he finishes the retelling of his almost-grand theft auto.
"I get out of the car and look next to me and there, right next to this car I've been in, is another white Buick. There were two white Buicks right next to each other! I got in the wrong one!"
My grandmother is still cracking up left and right but she says, "See, Carl, I told you. You are the reason why senior citizens have such a bad reputation."
"Yeah, yeah I suppose so." He says, and he wipes some tears from his eyes. "I was debating about telling you people at all. This is a family secret!" He tries to say this as gravely as possible, but we all bust ourselves up all over again. My grandfather, car-thief extraordinaire. Seriously.

In other news, the apocalypse came a day late. I have been hiding inside from the rain and wind and reading Bleak House which is, you know, full of rain and wind. Smart.

[ sit and chat ]

do you own a cadillac? [05 Jun 2006|02:13am]
[ mood | hello ]


division

fourth row center. brain still processing. pictures in the cut there, oui.

does that make you a vip?Collapse )

street spirit was played; i burnt my finger on my lighter. it was worth it. and tomorrow i get to do it again. and it will be worth it. forever and ever amen. the church of radiohead. alleluia.
[ 3 stayed and chewed the fat |sit and chat ]

atmospheric deja vu [03 Jun 2006|09:00pm]
[ mood | ambivalent ]

today reminded me of:


killarney


killarney, ireland. 03.21.05.

it's been raining. the temperature is unseasonable. i've felt this before; i'll feel this again.
i'm no good at staying in one place. i don't think i'm going to last long in america before i pack my bags and take off to be bankrupt somewhere far, far away.

tomorrow i am going to see radiohead. first of many. believe me when i say i'm excited. believe me when i say i will never love any band more than i love radiohead. [edit: oh holy roller, they played exit music in philadelphia. i can only hope.]

i've started playing piano for hours a day, just like before. the songs that i used to have memorized now float somewhere between my fingers, the keys and the music on my stand. it's coming back quickly. also coming quickly are various feelings of regret for not playing more often over the last few years. why did i let academia suck my life away? oh, right. the relentless pursuit of perfectionism. balls.

i'm worried about my liver. i'm sure my liver is worried about me.
[ 1 stayed and chewed the fat |sit and chat ]

i can't even deal with it [31 May 2006|12:21am]
[ mood | eyesocket ]

this is the most amazing thing i have ever seen.
ever.

[ 1 stayed and chewed the fat |sit and chat ]

denouement [14 May 2006|11:57pm]
[ mood | in limbo ]

i am now an alumna of bryn mawr college.

i figure my diploma is worth about 1k$ per square inch.

[ sit and chat ]

captain scrapple and the pork rangers [07 May 2006|01:39am]
crispity crunchity fuckin' porkity peanut buttery bacon
[ sit and chat ]

[01 May 2006|12:11am]
one + two = thor

remember that

-lucretia
[ sit and chat ]

HOT NANA [16 Mar 2006|09:50pm]
[ mood | bleary-eyed ]

things that have happened, in no particular order:
- hell week
- winning the pimp strut (see above)
- being scantily clad in front of hundreds of my fellow mawrtyrs (see above)
- being drunk for three days straight with little to no respite (contributing to pre-existing liver damage)
- finally submitting a large chunk of thesis i had been withholding (issues with perfectionism)
- finally acquiring the ability to find my way around brookline/allston/brighton (this needs to be worked on)

i just came back from florida after visiting my brother, sister-in-law, sister-in-law's mother and brother, niece, nephew, aunt, uncle, uncle's mother, two cousins, cousin's daughter, and my sick grandmother. a.k.a. if you were to walk up to a person speaking spanish in miami and/or ft. lauderdale, they would probably be related to me somehow.

i stayed with my brother and his family in lauderdale, but my grandmother and the rest of that clan are all located in downtown miami. as in, very downtown miami. as in, no english spoken downtown miami. right. a hell of a lot of spanglish went down, seriously. i haven't seen my cousins in years, and apparently sometime during these past years they have turned themselves into the guys who will pimp your ride. in their yard they have two pimped-out rice rockets, one pimped-out truck with enough decibels to liquify your inner organs, and a motorcycle (suzuki gsx2 750, i believe, which my father rode without a helmet. good job). inside their living room, they have another motorcycle. in front of the couch. yes. they work for seacoast automotives when they're not in school (they were in the military, and they're using their GI bills to get some college edumacatin'). they also look like straight-up thugs, despite the fact that one of them is as white as i am (danny; although the other one - uriel - is so dark he probably makes up for it). i think they're coming to visit in may. boston - be prepared.

i hadn't seen my brother (harold) in a good few years either, but he has turned into an upstanding citizen rather than a ride pimper-outter. he's hoping to start a company that will offer supplies to diabetics in poor south american countries (with funding from the AID program, hopefully). i'm impressed. his wife adriana seems pretty great, and his daughter vicki (7) is only kind of a brat. i.e. she stole my phone and managed to delete my entire goddamned phonebook (so hey, if you want me to call you ever again, leave me your number). his son david (2) is kind of amazing, and loves wearing my mother's high heels. right. so we have a toddler walking around the house with one wee child sized sneaker and one snakeskin high heel (or whatever the shit her shoes are made out of). his parents don't really approve of this (nor do they approve of the gays, which is another story altogether) but i think it is hiiiiilarious. he also speaks what sounds like esperanto because his parents are teaching him english and spanish, plus the fact that he used to have a haitian/creole nanny who taught him some words that no one else damn well understands. oh well.

so the main reason i went was to see my grandmother (my mother's mother, marina) who has cancer. she has stopped her chemo treatments, but apparently is undergoing some new treatment that has been a great improvement for her. i was expecting to see her in a bad way, but she was up and about and just as mobile as any other woman in her 70s. she cooked for us (steak al carbon, oh man) and would not hesitate to throw a shoe at my cousin's daughter daniela whenever she attempted to sass her. also, this is the woman who raised me for a while so that must explain my excellent ability to dodge shit that's flying at me. anyways. i guess it's kind of bad that she seemed to be well and good because i'm still in denial that she has had cancer for a really, really long time. also, the religious zealots that are my family believe that she is fine because everyone keeps praying for her, so no one really talks about how bad her situation might be and no one ever tells me what's actually going on. not that i am a total non-believer, i would just like to know some medical truths every so often, thanks.

my life might have been very, very different had my mother taken me to live with the rest of her family in miami/honduras/cancun/wherever else. i could have been pimpin' out people's rides right now. shit son. that's too bad.

[ sit and chat ]

it's been a long, long time [04 Feb 2006|08:28am]
[ mood | INEBRIATED ]

i will preface this entry with the fact that i have, as per usual, been drinking.

i am currently performing in a production of the Vagina Monologues at my school and it is aaaamazing. my monologue is entitled 'my angry vagina' and i love it so. i'm actually kind of sad it only runs for two nights. all the proceeds go to Women In Transition, and damn that makes me feel proud that i have contributed to something that will (hopefully) improve the lives of a good number of women. anyways

i just went to roaches (the local, of course) to party it up with some alums and some other randoms, which was great. kerstin and i sang some smashing pumpkins in operatic voices, and that = a good night. however, i then mouthed off to a cop on the way home so i'm sure that i am now in some database, somewhere, being watched. HELLOOOOO, PIGS.

i feel as if i should post in this [journal] more, but i never actually act upon that feeling.

also, something that irritates me: being tall, sometimes, is awful. i can not like short people, because i know that it would just end up being awkward as a result of sheer height difference. CRAPPY, crappy crappy. also, i am sick of people not knowing what they want. but that is another point entirely. straight girls? whatev whatev whatev disjointed disjointed disjointed your mom your mom your mom

I'M DONE

ps i think i ate some tainted m&ms earlier, and, seriously, i didn't even know m&ms could be tainted

[ 6 stayed and chewed the fat |sit and chat ]

i am a horrible person [25 Dec 2005|01:17am]
[ mood | festivus ]

SANTA CLAUDIUS SAYS:

inquit: ho ho ho

HAPPY SATURNALIA!#$

brought to you by:
the julio-claudians, egg nog, mspaint and me maybe if you promise not to tell noobody
p.s.: merry christmas you jerks
[ 3 stayed and chewed the fat |sit and chat ]

esnow in ze cruutch [04 Dec 2005|09:07am]
[ mood | SNOW ]

i just got back from playing in the first snow and drinking champagne on the senior steps. earlier on this evening i was upset i didn't get to see sam in atlantic city but.. i'm over it now. i'm going to see him in a few days, and for now i am having a good time. also, i have had a loooot to drink. life is good.

as much as i can dislike this place at times, i am going to miss faggy old bryn mawr when i graduate. DON'T TELL.

also, something i have wanted to post since thanksgiving - my grandfather's toast:
"As we slide down the bannister of life, may all the splinters be pointing in the right direction."
damn straight.

[ 1 stayed and chewed the fat |sit and chat ]

Why do I do these stupid things? [08 Nov 2005|06:16am]
[ mood | eeeeexhausted ]

So, my friend Devon won this contest which resulted in a tv crew from CBS3 Philadelphia coming out to Bryn Mawr to film us for a "Tailgate Takeover". At 11am, on five hours of sleep, I went down to my school's campus center and got to be a fool on syndicated television. Right on.

Videos are here. There are three videos of us morons at Bryn Mawr (you have to click on 'more' to see the third one, which is obviously the best one since it involves my actually playing football like a jackass). I look like a big homo. See also:


I don't know, so don't even ask.

Mainly I'm proud of myself for wearing a Red Sox t-shirt throughout the taping. People kept on trying to cover me up with Eagles jerseys but I kept running away from them and shouting obnoxiously about being from Boston, damnit. Besides, I don't even like football! I play rugby! EH. I really wanted to tackle Bob Kelly (the host with the most), but the powers that be told me that that would definitely be a bad plan. I could take that punk. Would have been bad for PR, though, and obviously all of those segments were all about PR. If a single girl from the Philadelphia region comes to Bryn Mawr after seeing us on this show I will personally congratulate her on being an empowered woman. And then I will laugh in her face.

Two posts in two days? Apocalypse is Nigh.
[ 2 stayed and chewed the fat |sit and chat ]

miscellanea [06 Nov 2005|03:54am]
[ mood | cantankerous ]


the technologically inclined drunk: a dead tv plugged into a tree (mass ave, between central and harvard) i would still be watching its beautiful blank screen, but it was pretty cold out


the stupid drunks: amy, sam, me (somewhere in allston?)
thanks, random groupie, for letting a group of 20+ people invade your small apartment after the two after-parties we had already destroyed. hope you managed to pick up the pieces of your life after we left. also, i want to punch my drunk self in the face in this picture
not pictured: how we all fell over after this picture was taken, how sam and i ended up trading pants which was, and is still, a horrible idea, the frozen breakfast sandwich we stole, my calling sam a fag (term of endearment) for listening to iron & wine and crying in the dark, ipod war involving the strokes, anthony singing journey, in-depth conversation on the literary merits of harry potter


the i wear my sunglasses at night drunks: me, cmo. (tla, philadelphia)
not pictured: straight jagermeister being drunk out of a coca-cola can, our sobriety, the hummus in courtney's cleavage, large baby-blue sequined mariachi hat

definitely not pictured: sam and i in the russian vodka room, new york city. sam gesturing into the face of one of the suit-clad russian-speaking mafia members and nearly getting us both killed, cool.

also definitely not pictured: my ever doing my work, because classics books are not photogenic and everyone looks pallid in the library. am i right? am i right? oh i hope so

[ 7 stayed and chewed the fat |sit and chat ]

the return to pem west first [27 Aug 2005|05:02pm]
[ mood | rushed ]

i guess this means i'm a senior now.

the last autumn.

[ 4 stayed and chewed the fat |sit and chat ]

A distinct lack of Christian Bale. [26 Aug 2005|03:01am]
[ mood | i need a new eye ]

So, my grandfather got scratched by a bat a few days ago. First of all, my grandfather calls my house at midnight or so and my mother, instead of telling my father and me that my grandfather had called, decides to keep this information to herself. The phone rings a second time and, again, she answers the phone but doesn't tell my father and me since we're out in the front room, probably watching a Harry Potter movie or something. Don't judge me, fools. Anyways, about ten minutes past after the second phonecall before my mother (who is most definitely a heinous bitch, despite my sounding like an embittered teenager by saying so) comes out to tell us that my grandfather has called twice and we should go find out what the hell is wrong with him, while going on to rant and rave about how he should not be calling this late blah blah blah she is inherently useless blah blah. We go downstairs to discover that my grandfather has fought a long and tiresome battle with a bat in his bedroom - his only weapons a haggard broom and a keen desire to destroy the invading flying rat. He is carrying a bag and heading toward the garage. My father and I make our exit to go with him to the emergency room. My mother is now ranting about a "Chinaman". WHAT? On that note, we leave.

Scene 1, Batman Begins:
Father, as he is getting the car out of the garage: TO THE BATMOBILE!
Me: (ogling bag in my Grandfather's hand suspiciously)
Grandfather: Pop the trunk, I'm not carrying around the little bastard.
Me: YOU STILL HAVE THE BAT? So THAT'S what's in that bag. Eugh.
Grandfather: Well, it was either him or me, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be me!
Me: Man, true.

We get in the car and drive to the hospital. I am vaguely perturbed by the dead bat body in our trunk. My father and grandfather are discussing the events of the bat attack while using completely accurate baseball terminology. We, my friends, are true Red Sox fans. My family, in fact, is the Red Sox Nation. Seriously. No joke. Schilling's my real father. Not really.

Scene 2, Batman Returns:
Grandfather: That was a tough at bat. HA HA HO HO.
Father: Yeah, it must have been like hitting a curveball submarining at 98mph!
Grandfather: A curveball that squeaked! It took about fifteen strikes before I finally got that sucker out!
Father: Well, at least when you finally got him out you knocked him right out of the park.
Me: I wonder what that did for your batting average?

We finally arrive at the hospital and, thankfully, there aren't a million syphilitic lepers in the waiting room because damn do I hate hospitals. And damn do I hate syphilitic lepers. Sorry to crush the dreams of any syphilitic lepers who may be in the audience tonight. So my grandfather gets Triaged (moment to acknowledge how dirty that sounds) while the nurse spends the entire time referring to him as Batman until he gets to see the ER doctor after a half hour or so. I don't mind sitting around because Roseanne is on in the waiting room and if my years of watching Nick at Nite have done anything to me they have given me a profound appreciation of the overweight workingclass middleAmerican glory that is Roseanne. Roseanne ends (oh that bigmouthed but loveable Darlene and her crazy antics!) and my grandfather finally emerges with a slight limp.

Scene 3, Batman Forever:
Triage Nurse: You're free to go, Batman!
Grandfather: Well, nice meeting you, you've been a giant pain in the ass! HA HA HO HO.
Triage Nurse: (raucous laughter) You're a trooper for putting up with all those shots! Now you may be tender there for a few hours so be sure to sit somewhere comfortable now. Bye, Batman!

We leave the hospital and decide to get donuts (fatties) before heading home.

Scene 4, Catwoman*:
Grandmother: I've been married to you for so many years and on top of all the things I've had to put up with, now you're rabid!
Grandfather: Uhoh, I think I left the bastard in the trunk of the car.
Me: (quit life)

Thus ends the saga.

In other news:
my latest love letterCollapse )

--
*This has nothing to do with Catwoman. Or Halle Berry. Sorry.

[ 3 stayed and chewed the fat |sit and chat ]

i'm horrible at saying goodbye. [11 Aug 2005|09:55am]
[ mood | pre-emptive ]

so, i really can't believe i'm actually going back to america for good. if you see me for the next couple of weeks, do expect a strong case of denial regarding my current whereabouts. and a strong scent of alcohol upon my breath. oh, well, you were expecting that already? right then. fine.

last night i went out to a pub with some friends in oxford and had my final cider and black. conclusion. fin. end reel.

i went out into the night i went out to find some light
i went out into the night i went out to pick a fight (withanyone)

[ 13 stayed and chewed the fat |sit and chat ]

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