We live in a modern society. Husbands and wives don't
grow on trees, like in the old days. So where
does one find love? When you're sixteen it's easy, like being unleashed with a credit card
in a department store of kisses. There's the first kiss.
The sloppy kiss. The peck.The sympathy kiss. The backseat smooch.
The we shouldn't be doing this kiss. The but your lipstaste so good kiss.
The bury me in an avalanche of tingles kiss. The I wish you'd quit smoking kiss.
The I accept your apology, but you make me really mad sometimes kiss.
The I knowyour tongue like the back of my hand kiss.
As you get older, kisses become scarce.
You'll be driving home and see a damaged kiss on the side of the road, with its purple thumb out.
If you were younger, you'd pull over, slide open the mouth's red door just to see how it fits.

Oh where does one find love? If you rub two glances, you get a smile.
Rub two smiles, you get a warm feeling.
Rub two warm feelings and presto-you have a kiss.
Now what?
Don't invite the kiss over and answer the door in your underwear.
It'll get suspicious and stare at your toes.
Don't water the kiss with whisky.
It'll turn bright pink and explode into a thousand luscious splinters, but in the morning it'll be ashamed and sneak out of your body without saying good-bye, and you'll remember that kiss forever by all the little cuts it lefton the inside of your mouth.
You must nurture the kiss. Turn out the lights.
Notice how it illuminates the room.
Hold it to your chest and wonder if the sand inside hourglasses comes from a special beach. Place it on the tongue's pillow, then look up the first recorded kiss in an encyclopedia: beneath a Babylonian olive tree in 1200 B.C. But one kiss levitates above all the others. The intersection of function and desire. The I do kiss. The I'll love you through a brick wall kiss. Even when I'm dead, I'll swim through the Earth, like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your bones.

- jeffrey mcdaniel

asdfghjkl;

This weekend I went camping. And I got my ear pierced. And I ate s'mores and skirt steak and walked ten miles to the mini-mart for more ice. And I made another stupid mistake but hopefully I can forget it by watching bloody movies and writing a research paper, which I have not started. I did okay on the ACT, but I have at least thirteen cavities, and my favorite Lynyard Skynard song is "Tuesday's Gone," my favorite color is rainbow, and my favorite person breaks my heart every single day.

quizes suck

The Soundtrack to Your Life Survey

Make a soundtrack for your life, matching songs with the following:

Opening song: "Magic in the Air" - Badly Drawn Boy

Waking up: "Kiss Off" - Violent Femmes

First date: "Peaceful Easy Feeling" - the Eagles

First kiss: "I've Just Seen a Face" - the Beatles

Falling in love: "Is This Love" - Bob Marley

Seeing an old love: "Nothing Better" - the Postal Service

Heartbreak: "Dry the Rain" - the Beta Band

Driving fast: "What Is Love" - Haddaway

Getting ready to go out: "Stielettos (Pumps)" - Crime Mob

Partying with friends: "Scenerio" - A Tribe Called Quest

Dancing at a club: "Sway" - Dean Martin

Flirting: "Lotion" - Greenskeepers

Feeling sexy: "You're So Damn Hot" - OK Go

Walking alone in the rain: "Lake Shore Drive" - Aliotta, Haynes, Jeremiah

Missing someone: "Life on Mars?" - Seu Jorge

Playing in the ocean: "Kokomo" - the Beach Boys

Summer vacation: "Box of Rain" - Grateful Dead

Fighting with someone: "House of the Rising Sun" - Animals

Acting goofy with friends: "Sunday Morning" - Maroon 5

Thinking back: "Tuesday's Gone" - Lynyard Skynard

Feeling depressed: "Blackbird" - the Beatles

Christmas time: "Sleigh Ride" - Hilary Duff

Falling asleep: "No Other Way" - Jack Johnson

Closing song: "Saturday Sun" - Nick Drake

what i love most about rivers is, you can't step in the same river twice

Here are some theories:

• If you push back on your eyelid hard enough, your eyeball will pop out
• People who drink milk on a regular basis are pansies
• Walt Disney was a Nazi because of his whack moustache
• There will never be a better idea than Pokemon, gotta catch 'em all

I'm listening to "Konstantine" by Something Corporate. Laugh out fucking loud!! This song sucks! It's like nine minutes long and freshman year I thought it was the most beautiful thing ever written. Here's some sample lyrics:


It's to dying in anothers arms
And why I had to try it
It's to jimmy eat world
And those nights in my car
When the first star you see may not be a star
I'm not your star?
Isn't that what you said
What you thought this song meant
And if this is what it takes
Just to live with my mistakes
And live with what I did to you
And all the hell I put you through
I always catch the clock... it's 11:11
now you want to talk
It's not hard to dream
You'll always be my Konstantine
My Konstantine
They'll never hurt you like I do
No, They'll never hurt you like I do
No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No

Actually, that got kind of sad at the end.

i'm your density...i mean, your destiny

Earlier, I watched part of a movie called In the Mix, starring Usher and the girl from the Lance Bass movie, On the Line. Looks like she has a thing for prepositional phrases! Anyway, there was one line in there that I truly cannot stop thinking about. I don't understand the context, the meaning, or what the scriptwriter was injecting when coming up with this shit.

"Must've been the collard greens that made me lose control."

Clearly, everyone's going to associate that sort of thing with flatuance, but I'm pretty sure bitch was trying to make a sexual inneundo. Which makes me think of having sex in Mr. McGregor's garden with a bunch of rabbits, which is illegal. I looked it up.

Another event that happened earlier this evening that is worth some form of notice is that my dear sister proclaimed that I was "really weird," shocking absolutely nobody. Here are some facts that back up her declaration, and there may be some things you never wanted to know, so your chance to back out is now:

• I eat Doritos in the shower whenever we have it around the house. It's really a glorious feeling, because you can get the "Cooler Ranch" or "Nacho Cheesier" seasoning all over your face without worrying about cleaning it up later. And, if the mood strikes, you can make some sort of goo concoction that sticks in your gums later. It's very Italian.
• I have a snowsuit that I bought at a New Hampshire thrift store that I wear a lot. When I put the snowsuit on, I become Mr. Duncan Hutchins, lifelong resident of Ogwalla, Nebraska. My mom says that this is my way of "not dealing with reality," but I think it's just a way that I am weird.
• The most delicious smell in the world is one of a freshly sharpened pencil. Barbeque, timber, the sea salt of Hawaii...all combined in your writing utensil.

Did you know most girls are really dumb? The proof lies in these little "icon" things

The first two are basically promoting illiteracy. The "Mr. Apple" one is just straight up whack. And look at what I found:

When a girl is quiet, millions of things are running in her mind. When a girl is not arguing, she is thinking deeply. When a girl looks at you with eyes full of questions, she is wondering how long you will be around. When a girl answers "I'm fine" after a few seconds, she is not at all fine. When a girl stares at you, she is wondering why you are lying. When a girl lays on your chest, she is wishing for you to be hers forever. When a girl wants to see you everyday, she wants to be pampered. When a girl says I love you, she means it. When a girl says "I miss you", NO ONE in this world can miss you more than that.

Words cannot express how off this little advice passage is. I can only speak for myself, but I'm not "thinking deeply" during the times when I am "not arguing." I'm thinking shit like, "when is this period over," or perhaps "I could really go for some applesauce and a grilled cheese right about now." Also, to quote the immortal Beach Boys, round round get around, I get around, and I've laid on my fair share of chests. That doesn't mean I want to be "theirs" forever. How bizarre would that be? Anyway, the point is, that shit is very wrong and not at all "cute" or "classy," not to mention "n" (I found it on "Cute n Classy Quotes.")

Here are some good songs:

"dust in the wind" - kansas
"my kind of town" - frank sinatra
"slippery people" - talking heads
"blister in the sun" - violent femmes
"hackensack" - fountains of wayne
"oh! darling" - the beatles
"taper jean girl" - kings of leon
"dress you up in my love" - madonna
"crazy" - gnarls barkley
"flake (acoustic)" - jack johnson

silence of the lambs

IT RUBS THE LOTION ON ITS SKIN
IT PUTS THE TACO IN ITS MOUTH

sunday nights are the dryest

From the lips without passion
To the lips with a kiss
There's nothing of your love
That I'll ever miss
The stain on my notebook
Remain all that is left
Of the memory of late nights
And coffee in bed

I'm making a concious decision to be a better person, and I'm starting with cupcakes. I added food coloring because it's my birthday on Tuesday. But it turned black, because I added all the food coloring I had. Then I ate this butter straight out of the tub, because it tastes good. There's a reason behind everything.

It's hard to take a devil-worshipper seriously when he writes "ALL HAIL THE GREAT SATIN" on the walls in animal blood. Just like it's hard to take that "Lady in Red" song seriously since it was in like 350839058 Lean Cuisine commercials.


I hardly know
this beauty by my side
I'll never forget
the way you look, tonight.

That is my love song to the entire world. I remember at my dad's wedding I told the minister that the town of Evanston was founded by Methodists and he thought I was a loser. My hair is so oily right now that if I doused an otter in its moisture, let's just say he would be a dead man.

goosebumps and tired eyes

don't forget who's taking you home
and in whose arms you're gonna be
so darling
save the last dance for me

i'll be home someday, just in one week, dry up your tears if you start to weep, and sing this lullaby to yourself

It's like escaping a hot, bright room for the serenity of a city at night, covered in snow.
People eliminated. A carpet of silence
for taxies to whisper across.
The world becoming
a pleasant dream of itself. The itch
of want smoldering to life on skin. Memory sends
a chill vanishing between vertebrae.
It's New Year's Eve. Hail the Calendar!
As if clocks will pause for a moment
before reloading their long rifles.
Years are tinyfreckles on the face of a century.
Where is the constellation we gazed at each night
Through a bill rolled so tight the first President los his breath
as our eyeballsliterally unraveled? I am alone
in the rectangular borough in the observatory,
where even fire trucks can't rescue
the arsonist stretching his calves in my brain.

new playlists

brightandearly: for waking up, pulpy orange juice, blueberry pancakes, squinting in the sun on the way to school...a short one because the ride is usually only ten minutes
"daydream believer" - the monkees
"i'll tell me ma" - the chieftains with van morrison
"heard 'em say" - kanye west
"run like an antelope" - phish
"kiss off" - violent femmes
"hey baby" - bruce channel (the dirty dancing song)
"cash machine" - hard-fi
"sleeping in" - the postal service

skinned heart: for when I desperately need to feel sorry for myself and cry under a comforter
"i'll catch you" - the get-up kids
"honey and the moon" - joseph arthur
"23" - jimmy eat world
"breakdown" - jack johnson
"landslide" - smashing pumpkins
"run" - snow patrol
"someday you will be loved" - death cab for cutie
"california dreaming" - the mamas and the papas
"lake shore drive" - aliotta, haynes, and jeremiah
"blackbird" - the beatles
"swallowed in the sea" - coldplay
"i'll be seeing you" - billie holiday
"casimir pulaski day" - sufjan stevens
"if i gave my heart to you" - mary black
"passenger seat" - death cab for cutie
"life on mars?" - seu jorge (from the life aquatic)
"a love that will never grow old" - emmylou harris
"a minor incident" - badly drawn boy
"secret of the easy yoke" - pedro the lion

and just for kicks, here's my playlist for Junior Year so far:
Junior Year '05-'06
"seasons of love" - the rent soundtrack
"nobody puts baby in a corner (acoustic)" - fall out boy
"i'll be here a while" - 311
"hey ma" - cam'ron
"big rock candy mountain" - o brother where art thou
"backyard" - guster
"baby, i love your way" - peter frampton

Life is like going to Sizzler. You gotta try everything on the salad bar before it closes.

A Careful Study of Love - performed by personal experiences and various people
Being in love is like you're in a dream with your sweet - no one else exists.
You forget your friends feelings.
You do really dumb things.
(See 2 lines above) Also, you play 'your song' over and over and over. ("Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely" by the wondurs [sic] Backstreet Boys) Flirting has become a regular thang (with blushing, too.) All you think about is your 'boy.'
The Tricks
Talking about him CONSTENTLY [sic]!
Hesitates when asked to like him. (Or says 'he's my friend.')
Look @ him all the time.
Or avoids eye contact at all costs.
Brings up his name whenever she can, even when its irrelevant.

That's from fifth grade. I thought I was mad clever.

haha

This is a title

R.I.P.

Hailey and Louis
February 9, 2005 - December 10, 2005

twenty perfect songs

The following songs are all flawless (in no particular order):

"sitting, wishing, waiting" - jack johnson
"these foolish things" - benny goodman
"the food" - common
"mona lisa" - guster
"sing" - travis
"sparks" - coldplay
"bad moon rising" - credence clearwater revival
"prostitute song" - group x
"jesus, the mexican boy" - iron and wine
"nothing better" - the postal service
"saturday sun" - nick drake
"walking with a ghost" - tegan and sara
"scatman" - scatman john
"handshake drugs" - wilco
"concrete schoolyard" - jurassic five
"sweet home alabama" - lynard skynard
"andmoreagain" - love
"njosnavelin (nothing song)" - sigur ros
"maple leaf rag" - scott joplin
"i'll never fall in love again" - burt bacharach

does your foot ever itch so much you wanna bite it off?

Things That I Love About ETHS:

• Being able to drink alcohol on the weekends without the prospect of being expelled
• Driving the hot whip to school and to Steak-N-Shake during my lunch period
• The fights in the hallway, and the fact that there's a girl named Lasagna in my gym class (it's actually spelled La'Zanya)
• A curfew two hours later than Saturday night check-in
• The Evanstonian and its cultlike status
• Classical music during the passing periods
• The security guards who always comment on how much/the lack of warm clothing I wear
• Cotillion 2005
• How sometimes it looks like a castle (i.e. in Pnemonia Alley)
• Finally understanding the way rooms are laid out: South, Bacon is green, North, Beardsley, is red, East, Michael is blue, and West, Boltwood, is yellow
• "Laplace, tell us a Christmas story!" I ain't got no stories, now SEND IT ON DOWWWN"
• I'm Mr. Chic-O-Stick, Mr. Su Su Su
• HomeMade Pizza
• Living a normal high school life

Things I Miss About Exeter:

• Shared music on iTunes, and Kirk Bansak's a capella
• Chicken fingers at d-hall
• Swimming in the Exeter river with all those weird theatre kids...naked
• A few 5 a.m. visits, and a few EPs
• Shower parties where we'd turn the radio up as high as it could go and shower in the hottest water possible
• Fudge Rounds in Mairead's freezing room, because she always leaves her window open
• The last class on Saturday being over and feeling relieved but peppy
• E/a assembly, and screaming so loud my voice falls apart
• P.O. and the thrill of getting a green package slip
• Filming the revised version of A Separate Peace
• Stealing bikes...lots of bikes, and hearing about English paper where Louis Frank wrote about a bike theft
• Amazing English classes
• Penthouse 03-04: me, Maya Rudolph, Soo Hyun Roh, Nina Lorenz, Hyan Park, Lesley Xu, Stephanie Diehl, Chelsea Rodrigieuz, Ryan McCarthey, Kelsey Meuse-Hassinger, Mairead Small Staid, Jen Gorman, and Dolly Hayde. My literal family. And the additions of 04-05: Sarah Pittman, Camilla Elvis, J-Kwon, and Nicole Zeng. And the millions of friends of ours: Kim-Mei Kirtland, Cat Hollander, Dawn Hu, Dante Taylor, Tricia Owlett, Isaac Wood, Lily Zhou, Hillary Maxwell, Joey Stat...I could go on

But that was then,

and this is now...

and now there's an English paper, an article to revise, and documents to read. Holla.

this kind of thing is the reason why i don't die right now

Dear James,

Perhaps it is the way the light falls across the trees, or the splashes of color we see in the backyard here on Blueberry Lane — signals that our hard time is here again. The sixth anniversary of your suicide is upon us. I stare at those words: “The sixth anniversary …” It feels like yesterday. It feels like a hundred years ago. You should be 23. You are forever a seventeen-year-old high school senior. “… of your suicide.” You? Suicide? Never! How can that be? Skateboarder. Mountain Biker. Snowboarder. Pilot, Handsome- Full of Adventure. Full of Fun. I run my fingers across the letters on your tombstone. JAMES JOSEPH PETA III 1977-1994. How can that be?
The house buzzed like a beehive for a long time. Your suicide turned us into a family of bedeviled detectives. Was it here the clue was dropped? Was this the point that could have changed the outcome? We were relentless. We lay the pieces of this puzzle out and at some unknown point began to face the reality that the picture would simply never be complete. We learn to live without the answers. This just is.
I used to beg to be given just three minutes to ask you questions. Is three minutes too much for a mother to ask? Your silence deafens me.
It was Tuesday, September 13, 1994.
There is a picture on the shelf that was taken for the yearbook at noon that day. You betray nothing. You are smiling and surrounded by friends. Was your plan in place?
It was a half day at school and I picked you up. You were sitting on the curb and you waved when I pulled in. Did you know what you would do? You called and made an appointment to get your hair cut on Thursday. Did you plan to keep it?
I left for work at the hospital at 3:30. Your last words were: “Yo, catch ya’ later, Mom.” Did you mean it?
You called Dad at work at four o’ clock to follow up on a college application. Were you planning on college?
Bev spoke to you at 4:45. You left me a note on the counter. “4:45 Bev called. Call her.” Bev said you “never missed a beat.”
The gun you used was mine. About five years before we were getting the Christmas decorations from the attic and you asked about it, hanging there in the case. I told you it was a rifle from my days living in California and I used it to target shoot in the desert. You asked if it “worked.” I told you I doubted it. It was probably rusted after twenty-five years in the attic without being shot or oiled. You never mentioned it again. We left it hanging there. There were never bullets in the house, but after you died I found the box of bullets hidden in your electric pencil sharpener. Your note said, “Don’t look for who gave me the bullets. I bought them myself.” When was that James? I have heard so many admonitions about unsecured guns in the home. I never thought the admonitions had anything to do with us. Our kind friends assure me that you would have found another way. Maybe. But you shot yourself with my unsecured gun. I must claim responsibility. No one can comfort me away from that truth and I am so sorry.
The Lifestar helicopter brought you to me in the Emergency Department at the hospital at 5:30. As the supervisor that night I was all business — trauma and neurosurgical teams gowned, gloved and waiting when they wheeled you through the doors. I handpicked every person in the room. If there was a chance to save you, they would be the ones to do it. Your dad was at the house when the helicopter flew you away. He told me later you were breathing and on the way to your mother and all her colleagues at the hospital. Their specialty was reversing crisis. It did not occur to him that we would not save you. When your dad arrived at the hospital, we went into a room alone and I told him. My mind could not comprehend the words that my lips forced out. “We’ve lost him, Jim. James is brain-dead.” Did you hear his anguished sobs?
The Robinsons went to get your sister at Wesleyan. Dad and I told her together. Did you hear her? NoNoNoNooooooo.
We called in the Organ Procurement Team. There were people fighting to live. Your kidneys and liver and heart gave four of them a chance. Brenda, your heart recipient, wrote many letters to us. In one, she said, “You know something? Your son still lives and will continue to live inside my body. He has a lot of energy and his heart beats strong.”
* * *
Fast forward to today and at last I can say I am glad to be here. Each day that passes moves us further from that horrific event. Each day that passes soothes. Each day that passes allows us to mend, with tiny, fragile stitches, the gaping hole in our life fabric. It has not been a “fast forward” for any of us. Your death, as your life, touched so many. It has been a daunting journey for us. Imagine the biggest, tallest, fastest, scariest roller coaster in all of heaven and earth. Imagine the plunges between the peaks. Imagine the lurching stomach, cold hands, bile in the throat, screaming brain, pounding heart. Imagine someone strapping you in that seat against your will and starting the ride and not ever letting you get off. Imagine the fear and the angst and the tension and the fatigue and the chaos. Imagine the track always changing. Upside down? Right side up? Try to catch your breath. Hold on tight. We have ridden that roller coaster every day. James, did you not know we would have moved mountains to stop your wild ride? Could you not send a signal? Could you not scream your pain?
Your sister graduated from college. She lives and works out West. She rides the roller coaster.
Dad and I facilitate a support group for survivors of suicide called Safeplace. We are a family of the heavy hearted. We in the group talk about how hard it is, living without all of you and how sorry we are for the choice you all felt you had to make. Most of us acknowledge that we just do not get it. Most of the time, it does not compute with what we know. You, Caitlin, Tommy, Phillip, Randy, Michelle, Sam, Matt, Eric, Deirdre, Will and all the rest — do you comfort each other there as we comfort each other here? There are so many of you. There are so many of us.
I am on the Board of Directors for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention-New England. This should not have happened to any of you. This should not have happened to any of us. AFSP works hard on research, prevention and education. They minister to survivors. We look to them to help us complete the puzzle. How does the brain work? What is the combination of forces that cause someone to self-destruct? There is no time to waste.
The roller coaster ride is slower, James. We know the topography of this wasteland — the peaks are not as scary, the plunges are not as deep. We cannot leave our seats, but it now makes frequent stops. It gives us time to sigh and catch our breath and assume a more comfortable position. We try to be good to ourselves and each other. We recognize our strength and renewed confidence. We stand tall. We laugh. We stretch. We will not be overcome, We will survive.
Dad and I saw Dr. Patrick Hynes for almost a year. I used to call it “my check up from the neck up.” He asked me once if I could erase any memory of you would I do it? I told him, “Absolutely. This pain is too searing and I want it gone.”
I’ve since changed my mind. I have wonderful memories and stories that are flip and funny and bring a smile to my face. You filled the house with joy. For us, seventeen years was not nearly enough.
In this universe we share, we trust that you are safe and know we miss you and that our love for you will never end. Never.
Yo, catch ya’ later, James.

— Mom

good evening

I like updating this blog, because out of the three I have (plus a Facebook - if you don't have one of these by now, you must be using the InterNOT! HAHA!), this is the only one that could really qualify as a "blog" - meaning it's not so whack like justmattson or irrelevant like livejournal (which sucks, by the way, sucks like how Old Orchard sucked away business from Evanston merchants, man, I'm the madonna of metaphors.) Right now it's 11:48 p.m. and, well, there are two quizes tomorrow that I really have to ace and a page to write for History. Can we put it on the booooooooard...yessssssssss!

Here is a list of qualities I dislike in people:

people who say "APUSH"
people who swing around Nalgene bottles all day long
people who talk too much about Cotillion
people who disapprove of peeing in the shower
people who lie about straightening their hair

and to stay balanced, here is a list of qualities I like in people:

people who say hi to you in the halls, even if you only had one class with them last year
people who make jokes about touchy subjects
people who read books outside of school
people who have warm hands, or cold hands, either way, will let you feel for yourself
people who make interesting playlists in autobiographical order

Cross your fingers for the White Sox and my GPA.

thinking, what a concept!

Jessica Simpson is a blow job doll.

1. Black jellybeans are so gross. I bet they're the reason why some people are racist.
2. I've come to the realization that I'm a sort of a social climber, because I want to be friends with everyone, from the "gettin' crunk!" bitches to the band stoners to the security guards. High school is so fleeting, and I don't want to wake up one day already graduated and wonder if I had overlooked any cool people.
3. I flipped out during seventh period on Friday and tried to jump out a window. I was standing on the sill and everything, and four stories looked so far down. I didn't jump out but I'm having such a hard time right now, and I really need my friends. Really.
4. Songs that I really like right now:

"jesus etc" - wilco
"step into my office, baby" - belle & sebastian
"dry the rain" - the beta band
"fix you" - coldplay
"the promise" - when in rome
"peaches" - the presidents of the usa
"bad moon rising" - credence clearwater revival
"for good" - the wicked soundtrack
"o holy night' - charlotte church

2:33 AM and 536 words left to go

Basically, I am having a hard time with my life right now.
But instead of complaining in a blog, I will make a poem.

I am posting a blog. I may go for a jog. I will pet my dog. Hey, look at that smog. No, it's not fog. I sat on a log. A cranberry bog. Sex Wax is made by Mr. Zog. I should not eat the hog. I hate egg nog. Do you remember the "pog?"

500 more words.