Thursday, December 10, 2009

I'm going to try to make the world hate me slightly less by liveblogging my evening in Butler.

This way, you see, as I cruise the internet and listen to awesome music and generally don't write so many things about sociolinguistics, culture and their relationship to revolution in Africa, I don't make all my facebook friends want to kill me by confining my thoughts to one tiny, ignorable blog post.

Let us proceed, then, you and I.

(After all, the damn thing is stretching out against the sky)

6:16 pm
Have arrived at Butler way too late, as a trip to Pinnacle gave me the opportunity to see my dear friend Claudia, who reminded me of the Potter Puppet Pals and The Mysterious Ticking Noise.

Yes, there was public singing.

7:26 pm
Have spent most of the last hour having rather intense conversations with my good friends. The guy in front of me with the super awkward half mushroom haircut spent it sleeping. Do you think people will judge me if I eat an apple in Butler 303?

8:18 pm
This guy does a dope remix of Paper Planes.

Did I just say dope?

8:41 pm
Leaving 303 for a production meeting, I accidentally turn my music on in the middle of the room and instead of turning off my computer, just yell at it to be quiet. I am now in the lounge. I cannot ever return.

9:34 pm
I never realized that The Flaming Lips shared my life philosophy.

One, two, three, four -
Do You Realize - that you have the most beautiful face
Do You Realize - we're floating in space -
Do You Realize - that happiness makes you cry
Do You Realize - that everyone you know someday will die

And instead of saying all of your goodbyes - let them know
You realize that life goes fast
It's hard to make the good things last
You realize the sun don't go down
It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round

That is so awesome.
I wonder if I got it from them subliminally.

9:45 pm

Wicked Song:

11:09 pm
Have written two pages. Spent the last ten minutes lost in thought about non-Africa related things, staring at the floor.

I will now compose a poem.
A shitty one.

En hiver vous enivrez
(that sounds so pretty en français)
Mais moi, I stay inside all day
And think of things I want to say
A lui qui m'a confusé.

Man, even my poems are in Fringlish.


11:39 pm

Have moved from feeling rather blue to feeling quite happy, though sleepy.

à la bird and the bee

Dearest one, I had a dream
I mouthed the words,
The sound came out,
I spoke to you in Japanese
Oh, my love I cannot see, I heard your name
I know at once there was no place I’d rather be
All at once there was no place that I would rather b

if i could speak japanese, that would be me to a t

somehow i just became cummings i hope it does not reflect in my paper

11:55 pm

It's gone. So is my focus. Sometimes when you are stuck (in fact, all the time, for me) it means you need to wake your ass up at five am and do it then. Mostly because it's taken you an hour to write three sentences, and six to write two pages.

Maybe if I wasn't such a narcissistic asshole who thought the world needed to know the contents of my brain then I would actually get shit done.

Of course, the internets have long proven that we are all narcissistic assholes.

I just said internets. I need to go home now.