[in los angeles, still]
claratin is like... the most wondrous thing.



i guess i'm too chicken to really commit to a decision.

ON ANYTHING.

when i get back to new york (in a somewhat specific order):

order a real thing of coffee by a frosted window, finish reading my books, get laid, have a ciggarette and sit by a fire with my dog.

in los angeles for winter break:
adoring the western sun, adoring the smallness of her kid cousins, adoring the blood that runs through even loose ends, adoring anyone with energy (ones who don't waste time in front of a computer screen blogging), adoring her new guitar.
waiting (with more patience than expected) to get home to her boy friend, her friends, feet of snow, and the smutty atlantic ocean.

-picking up blogging again, hoping that writing things down will help me remember things-

i'm in the middle of reading Kerouac's On the Road and it's making me itch for a long open road that's gonna read like a blank book. i want to be able to understand this world, without an ear to the grapevine; there's no empathy in that.
one of these days, i'm going to take a road trip across country.
[except i wish i had a pair of balls instead of breasts. or that men weren't so lecherous. guns and knives, my friends.]

but there's another pipe dream.
this one runs like a steam freighter across the states, coughing up gas.
this one's do-able though.

i knew i was going to regret going at this book pen-less.
how am i supposed to find a respectable quote?
what the fuck.
inaction makes me reliant on fate.
so on some random turned-to page:
"We were all delighted, we all realized we were leaving confusion and nonsense behind and performing out one and noble function of time, move. And we moved!"

seems fair.

[ don't we want originality?
pioneers and diamond diggers
beggars for prospect and something [anything] genuine and ours
so it's something that's ours.
to love like a child. ]

i'm thinking... maybe i'd be better taking a year off?

finding a job, getting an apartment close to campus?

maybe that'll get me organized. haha?

maybe not organized - maybe more like prioritized.

p.s. www.myspace.com/annonsh

I've been feeling pretty surreal lately ---

like, mechanical in a way.

I guess this is what it feels like to put your life back in order

it's okay, I guess

blogging is stupid - 

every time I log on to this thing, I can't ever write anything

on the one hand, I can write for days about some existential and philosophical theory 

but that's just a rant filled with big words 

if I'm going to spend that much time writing, I'd rather write something a lot less selfish

like something humanitarian - 

problem is, I'm not very good at it

also, it's easier just to provide the link

like hey, this is Kids for Kids

check it out, it's a really innovative organization that's allowing families and villages in Darfur sustain themselves.

really, check it out.

I could also tell you all the going ons of my life

but I'd fall asleep

you'd fall asleep

who gives a shit

i don't know you!

fucking blogs.

the four of us are marrying each other.

This is a text messaging conversation between me and Georg:

Georg: "By the way, GEORGE WASHINGTON is my hero! Haha."
"HAHAHAHAWHAT?! HAHAHA"
"He is more powerful that ZEUS (chewbacca's father, by the way!)"
"GEORG LOEWEN IS MY HERO"
"Haha! Thank you! Did you know that WASHINGTON ate british babies for breakfast?"
"did you know georg loewen eats dog babies for breakfast?"
"I didn't know about that... tell me more about this lord!"
"He's a lot cooler than your hero. your hero is DEAD."
"NO THAT'S A LIE HE STILL LIVES IN MY TOE!"
"NOBODY CAN LOVE A MAN WHO LIVES IN A TOE!"
"But you don't know my real hero. Her name is shannon and she lives in my heart!"

his heart's cozy.
:)

i have a really lame sense of humor.

Is it worth being an artist or an indie-rock star, or are you better off without it?'
Cause I mean maybe the world would be better if we were all just uncreative drones,
No dead childhood dreams to haunt us, a decent job, a decent home,
And if we have some extra time we could do real things to promote peace,
Become scientists or history teachers or un-corrupt police at least,
'Come on Will, you gotta tell me!!' I grabbed and shook him by the arm,
The L train was leaning Bedford with 10,000 white 20 somethings crowed on
He opened his mouth to speak but it was lost in the rumbling of the wheels
We were thrown together in a corner and I yelled 'Tell me, man, for real!'
You're living comfortably, I assume, even if you're not quite a household name
You've reached a pretty high level of success & critical acclaim
The L train got to first avenue and a bunch of people piled out
I was starring into his sunglasses and I was really freakin' out i was like,
Steamboat Willie Bonnie Prince of all this shit, you're like the king of a certain genre
But even you must want to quit like if you hear a record by Bob Dylan or Neil Young or whatever
You must start thinkin' 'People like me, but I won't be that good ever'
And I'm sure the thing is probably Dylan himself too stayed up some nights
Wishing he was as good as Ginsberg or Camus
And he was like 'Dude, I'm such a faker, I'm just a clown who entertains
and these fools who pay for my crap, they just have pathetic punny brains'
and Camus probably wished he was Milton too or whatever, you know what I'm sayin'?!


Jeffrey Lewis is a king.

Made me a lot happier than it should have.