bright moment, that, and bright moment, next-- [entries|friends|calendar] Ellie car on a hill · roadnotes · night ride home · music box woody and dutch on the slow train to peking two_grey_rooms two_grey_rooms [ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ] [ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

[May 24th, 4:44pm] [ mood | confused ] [ music | 'cause we don't have a job to keep ] you guys. I've been uploading new icons, and I was all content and whatnot, and then. I came across this one. and realized. i have no idea what the shit is going on in it. uhh seriously WHAT THE COCKING SHIT AM I LOOKING AT. SOMEBODY HALP. EDIT: I HEREBY DECREE THIS FLIST THE GREATEST FLIST OF ALL TIME. And I hereby decree the comments to this post The Rorschach Circus. y'all are hilarious, tysm for all your enlightening interpretations. read 33 · call me a taxi · prepare me for landing · remember

no one's laughing at god in a hospital, no one's laughing at god in a war [May 13th, 9:26pm] [ mood | drained ] [ music | "Laughing With," by Regina Spektor ] you guys, I've been really ill for the past couple days and have thusly (yes, being nearly DELIRIOUS with FEVAH gives me permission to use "thusly" in the vernac. deal.) been unintentionally ignoring all comments and posts and the whole damn computer. kinda hoping it's swine flu, I feel like taking part in an epidemic might be exciting. I'm disabling comments to avoid a pity party, not because I'm dying or anything, promise. just wanted to drop you all a quick line/explanation if I was just all like "OOH HI LET'S BE FRIENDS!!!" and then promptly fell off the face of the earth. And if you felt compelled to leave a "feel better!" comment, I'll tell you what you can do instead. PLANT ME A GODDAMN TREE, MOTHERFUCKER. I realize that does not exactly promote the idea that I am not dying, but I have been wasting so much paper on tissues and math catch-up work that I feel as if I am solely responsible for mass deforestation. go do something productive and oxygen-making and springy. *salutes* ETA: unless your name is cool_rain_kiss. Then you have to hand-write me a letter of epic, elegiac, "de profundus" proportions. only it has to be in iambic fuckin' pentameter. in your own BLOOD. because you love me that much.

and you think you can solve all your problems by yourself [May 9th, 12:38pm] [ mood | dorky ] [ music | "Tightrope," by Yeasayer ] ♫ music friending meme ♫ YOU GUYS, KYP MALONE IS HERE! By which I do not mean the dude from TV on the Radio, but the wandering kitty I named after him. Although it must be said that the man is also unduly fluffy. ...This is the second time I've had occasion to use my "Kyp Malone's Motherfucking Beard" tag. I hereby decree that it is my favorite tag ever. Kyp the Kitty is befuddled and frightened by the strange phenomenon of TOES. I do not know what to make of this, except that I wish he'd stop trying to gnaw the little fuckers clean off. DO I LOOK LIKE MEOW MIX TO YOU? :O read 21 · call me a taxi · prepare me for landing · remember

the post about nothing! [May 8th, 8:52pm] [ mood | ima dweeebo ] [ music | "Heavy Cross," by the Gossip ] I...just felt compelled to add myself as a livejournal friend, for reasons I am finding difficult to articulate. Uhm. Some possible explanations I am entertaining in the face of a TOTAL VOID OF LOGIC: 1. This course of action clearly promotes the illusion of self-confidence. I am even considering someday finding it a place on a shiny, shiny college resume. 2. OR MAYBE it is of a profane nature and doesn't belong in such an overwhelmingly scrupulous environment: maybe I have actually just answered the eternal question would I do me? (I WOULD, AND I DO, IN CASE YOU MISSED THAT.) 2. OR MAYBE it is actually a masochistic Cave of Solitude. HOW WILL I EVER FRIEND ME BACK? WHAT IF I DRIVE ME TO FLOUNCIFICATION? I DON'T THINK I AM BUILT TO SURVIVE THIS KINDA ANGST. D: D: D: 3. ...and now I'm too busy weeping piteously to think of any more reasons. *BASKS IN LONELY LIVEJOURNAL DESPERADO-DOM* (I am totally badass enough to be a desperado okay. I am at least an outlaw in the face of LOGIC, and no one can deny that.) Poll #1397035 the eternal question, con't. Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 6 if you could have sex with an EXACT clone of yourself, innermost thoughts and all, would it be sex or masturbation? View Answers why the fuck is there an apostrophe in "con't"? should that even really go there? View Answers ...my brain, sometimes ze is inane as all hell. And I mean the doctor's-waiting-room level of hell reserved for procrastinators, I guess, because otherwise the phrase "inane as all hell" doesn't actually make any SENSE, does it. Because fire and brimstone are much more terrifying and smelly than they are inane. In other, much more pressing news, tea is delicious. Do you know who is even more delicious than tea? BETH MOTHERFUCKING DITTO, THAT'S WHO. THE GOSSIP HAS A NEW SINGLE OUT, YOU GUYS \o/ \o/ \o/. If you are unacquainted with Beth Ditto, she is all you ever need to know about awesomeness, pretty much. If you need any convincing, I would like to introduce you to ishyface's kick-ass picspam from forevers ago. I would also like to advertise the fact that an earbud has just found its way nearly up my left nostril, for reasons I am not sure enough of to report (read: I AM SO UNCOORDINATED THAT SOMETIMES THINGS WOT DON'T BELONG IN IMPOSSIBLE ORIFICES END UP THERE. that sounds horrifically double entendre-y, doesn't it ;__;). LET IT BE KNOWN THAT EVEN MY BOOGERS ARE RIOT GRRRLS. Also, this entry lacks any cohesive narrative. In case you hadn't noticed already. BRAIN, DO YOU THINK YOU COULD MANAGE TO SIT STILL FOR AWHILE? I WOULD BE VERY APPRECIATIVE, JUST SAYIN. (ALSO, IT IS FRIDAY. I NO DO THE THINKY TOO WELL TONIGHT, BUT HEY! I LIKE THIS. DOUBLEPLUSGOOOOOD.) read 27 · call me a taxi · prepare me for landing · remember

get out of the city and into the sunshine! [Apr 25th, 12:30pm] [ mood | Saturdaylicously half-naked ] [ music | "Legal Man," by Belle & Sebastian ] Do you know what game I think we should play? The Let's Make Life Decisions for Our Flist Game! That is indisputably one of the most fabulous things you can do with a livejournal. You see, kids, there's this summer program type of shindig (and I say "shindig" because it promises to be full of bacchanalian things. at least, the course selection looks. amazing. better than any amount of bacchanalian shenanigans you can think of, all right). Only after all the day's shenanigans have been sufficiently shenanigated, there's the option of either taking an afternoon SAT review course or mini-courses. THE MINI-COURSES, THEY LOOK LIKE JOLLY GOOD FUN. While they're evidently subject to change, some of the options from last year comprise of shit like the Evolution of Punk Rock, Running of a Coffee Shop, Cartoon + Satire, and THESE ARE SO FUCKING AWESOME WHAT ARE YOU DOING EVEN CONSIDERING PRACTICALITY (presumably taught by this guy). HOWEVER, that whole college thing I have to get my ass into? Yeah, my test-taking skills are...apocalyptically awful, at best. Nearly as bad as my decision-making skills. IPSO ERGO: YOU DECIDE! Shall I gain insight into doing something wot would spare me from being confined to city-street cardboard boxes forever more, or shall I be a hobo with an encyclopedic knowledge of punk rock? (because obviously this one decision will determine THE ENTIRE COURSE OF MY LIFE. MY FATE RESTS IN YOUR CAPABLE HANDS, FLIST. DON'T LET ME DOWN.) Poll #1389883 ellie's life as a democracy, pt. 2/∞ Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 15 THE RED PILL OR THE BLUE PILL, KIDS? WHAT'LL IT BE? View Answers BLUE. Mini-courses! stop being a prat and review the SAT by your goddamn self. you'll develop shit like drive and individualization that way too. 7 (50.0%) RED. SAT review. YOU ARE A LAZY ASSHAT AND WILL NEVER REVIEW THEM ON YOUR OWN. also, as review courses go, this one promises to be pretty fucking thorough. which is what you need. because you are an asshat. 7 (50.0%) IT IS TIME FOR AN OBLIGATORY TICKATHON! View Answers THAT'S NOT EVEN A QUESTION! SEE, YOUR LINGUISTIC SKILLS ARE ATROPHYING ALREADY! TAKE THE GODDAMN SAT REVIEW!!! 4 (28.6%) academic testing is an institution to keep you down by the MAN, man. 8 (57.1%) I am a douchenozzle who has never seen the Matrix and didn't even understand the first question properly. WOE ON MY UNENLIGHTENED HEAD. 2 (14.3%) DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU TAKE BECAUSE THE MATRIX HAAAAS YOOOOU, NEOOOO~~~ (I got the reference because I am not a douchenozzle!) 8 (57.1%) TICK-TICK-TICK-T-T-T-TICK! TICKALODEAAAAN! 4 (28.6%) om nom nom nom ticky boxes. 5 (35.7%) LEEETLE BOXES, LEETLE BOXES ON THE HILLSIDE! 6 (42.9%) LEEETLE BOOOXES MADE OF TICKY-TACKY, LITTLE BOXES AAAAALL THE SAAAAME! 8 (57.1%) fuck you, you fucking fuck. 5 (35.7%) I AM EATING SOMETHING TASTY ATM AND I WILL TELL YOU ALL ABOUT IN THE COMMENTS. 3 (21.4%) I AM READING SOMETHING TASTY AND I WILL TELL YOU ALL ABOUT IT IN THE COMMENTS. 3 (21.4%) I AM EATING AND READING AND TYPING AT THE SAME TIME AND NOW MY BOOK IS ALL DEFILED AND I HAVE TO PRAY TO SHAKESPEARE UNTIL MY SOUL IS ABSOLVED 5 (35.7%) you are so long-winded you make head spin. also, you make Shakespeare himself weep for the English language, oh my god. 3 (21.4%) EDIT: ALSO I HAVE BEEN SHIT AT FLISTING AGAIN LATELY, I KNOW. HI, EVERYBODY! QUE PASA? read 23 · call me a taxi · prepare me for landing · remember

Tunde Adebimpe is the only lyricist badass enough to rhyme "individuated" with "congratulations." [Apr 9th, 9:00pm] [ mood | smitten ] [ music | I see two blackbirds in the yard ] ♥__________♥ edited for auxiliary inanity: this morning I observed exactly two blackbirds flying around in my yard and got really really irrationally excited. read 8 · call me a taxi · prepare me for landing · remember

chopped off the tops of the trees: the living rooms are pleased with the results [Mar 24th, 9:46pm] [ mood | pleased ] [ music | "The Weeds Are Winning," by the Ditty Bops ] FUCK YEAH, COLBERT NATION. And this is why Stephen Colbert is the mack daddy of our country. Goodnight, America, and all of you citizens of other countries who desperately wish they had a Colbert but aren't quite cool enough. read 8 · call me a taxi · prepare me for landing · remember

but now we have to grapple with our man-made world backfiring [Mar 22nd, 12:59am] [ mood | whimsical ] [ music | "Bad Dreams," by Joni Mitchell ] I KNOW this is pretty obnoxious on account of how I just posted about two seconds ago. But. Vonnegut was such a fantastic human being whose words needs to be shared at every available interstice, I swear. Here's the full quote, because I am evidently in a sort of typing-up-other-people's-words mood tonight: No matter how corrupt, greedy, and heartless our government, our corporations, our media, and our religious and charitable institutions may become, the music will still be wonderful. If I should ever die, God forbid, let this be my epitaph: THE ONLY PROOF HE NEEDED FOR THE EXISTENCE OF GOD WAS MUSIC Now, during our catastrophically idiotic war in Vietnam, the music kept getting better and better and better. We lost that war, by the way. Order couldn't be restored in Indochina until the people kicked us out. That war only made billionaires out of millionaires. Today's war is making trillionaires out of billionaires. Now I call that progress. And how come the people in countries we invade can't fight like ladies and gentlemen, in uniform and with tanks and helicopter gunships? Back to music. It makes practically everybody fonder of life than he or she would be without it. Even military bands, although I am a pacifist, always cheer me up. And I really like Strauss and Mozart and all that, but the priceless gift that African Americans gave the whole world when they were still in slavery was a gift so great that it is now almost the only reason many foreigners still like us at least a little bit. That specific remedy for the worldwide epidemic of depression is a gift called the blues. All pop music today--jazz, swing, be-bop, Elvis Presley, the Beatles, the Stones, rock-and-roll, hip-hop, and on and on--is derived from the blues. A gift to the world? One of the best rhythm-and-blues combos I ever heard was three guys and a girl from Finland playing in a club in Krakow, Poland. The wonderful writer Albert Murray, who is a jazz historian and a friend of mine among other things, told me that during the era of slavery in this country--an atrocity from which we can never fully recover--the suicide rate per capita among slave owners was much higher than the suicide rate among slaves. Murray says he thinks this was because slaves had a way of dealing with depression, which their white owners did not: They could shoo away Old Man Suicide by playing and singing the Blues. He says something else which also sounds right to me. He says the blues can't drive depression clear out of a house, but can drive it in the corners of any room where it's being played. So please remember that. And--of course--here is "Blues from Down Here," and, as is my wont, ( lookee there are the lyrics: ) In my quiet moments, I totally think Vonnegut woulda been a TV on the Radio fangirl. He would've liked that they freely admit they have no idea what they're doing and that "A lot of bands have something to say...[they] have something to ask." That seemed like a pretty bitchin'-ly Vonnegutian sentiment to me anyway. Here, let me continue this post's theme, and leave you all with another profoundly inspiring quote from the mouth of Mr. David Andrew Sitek: "Most of the music that I like was made on dope. There is no way I could play a song back to myself 3,000 times unless I was stoned. I don't ever want to repeat myself, so I try to be not too conscious of the process...Sitting in my underwear doing bong hits is how I get a mix to gel." motherfucking \o/! read 7 · call me a taxi · prepare me for landing · remember

i promise my forthcoming post will NOT contain another fuckin' meme. [Mar 2nd, 10:43pm] [ mood | REALLY GOING TO BED NOW ] [ music | dad telling me to gtf to bed ] OKAY SO. I cannot find any way of changing the timezone on my lj, what the festering hell. Um, can anybody supply me with a link because I am either selectively blind or tragically inept. THANK YOU. Oh yeah and have another MEEEEEME: A quiet love meme. One little compliment can make you feel amazing. So give me a compliment, anything in the entire world, even that my shoelaces are pretty. Put this in your journal. And once you get some comments, put that entry in a memory or tag and when you are feeling down, just go to that entry and this will remind you how great you are. Comments are screened so only I will know if nobody feels like catering to my demands for coddling. SHOW ME YOUR TITS Say nice things about me because I am squishy and cuddly? :D? call me a taxi · prepare me for landing · remember

your philosophy was built to fall apart (to make a new one, start from scratch) [Mar 2nd, 1:37am] [ mood | weirdly FANTASTIC ] [ music | "A Summer Chill," by This Is Ivy League ] I am--inexplicably, all-encompassingly fucking giddy right now, and I wish to tell you all about it! Really, today has just been this great long procession of tiny little lovely things that have collectively made me absurdly happy. Also they seem to make me want to blather fulsome adjective abuse into my livejournal. For this I apologize. Just. I dunno! I didn't actually get out of my pajamas all day. There's going to be a snow day tomorrow, if I can trust the weather reports promising a blizzard of apocalyptic proportions. (Even if I end up having to wake up at 6:00, right now the snow is a pretty fabulous sight to behold.) My best friend called me at, like, the exact moment I was thinking of calling her before I got anywhere near the phone ("THAT'S SO CREEPY. WERE YOU GOING TO CALL TO TALK ABOUT TV ON THE RADIO?" which obviously I was. because we're connected at the brain). We are seeing TV on the Radio in Central Park in June, and I am going to have an excitement-induced coronary. I just realized I'm actually really pleased with my schedule for next year instead of freaking the fuck out over it (probably this will last just until my furlough from school ends on Tuesday and I go back to wanting to go join the fucking circus instead). Speaking of TV on the Radio, I spent half the day listening to Return to Cookie Mountain. This is pretty pitiful, I think, but dancing around your room like a freak is indisputably awesome. This is a really boring update! (I thought maybe I could salvage it with some exciting punctuation. Did it work?) I guess it's always really retarded to talk about happiness, isn't it, unless you're Naomi Shihab Nye or some shit. I guess I just want to be able to find this again, in a public post, and go, what the fuck was I thinking? this post is drivel. but I remember being weirdly enthused about it. ( also I totally have to catch up on my memes! AND NOW WE REACH THE CRUX OF THE POST, TRULY. BECAUSE MEMES ARE SRS BSNS. come listen to me ramble some more, about drag kings who happen to be superheroes and mancrushes who happen to be gods and scandalous disavowals oh my ) Just for the record: 1. HOLY SHIT IT'S STILL SNOWING! If I stand outside in it and just look up, I get impossibly dizzy, and if vertigo were that wonderful all the time, everyone would be fucking dying of inner ear disorders. 2. If I do have to wake up in three and a half hours, I'm gonna choke a bitch. 3. If you actually read all that, I AM SO SORRY. I will send you apologetic arrangements of fruit in the mail. OH BUT I CAN RAMBLE :D :D 4. Apologies for being horribly behind on flist. Will rectify tomorrow, amidst SNOOOOW YAYE. read 40 · call me a taxi · prepare me for landing · remember

on back porches with the torch of a firefly-lit tree [Feb 20th, 12:31am] [ mood | sleepy ] [ music | "No More Runnin" by Animal Collective ] So, I (finally!) saw Milk today and yeah, I may have cried. Just a little bit. I am feeling pretty inarticulate at the moment, but suffice it to say that this review rocks. If you haven't seen it yet, GO DO IT. If it's, um, still playing anywhere. I am always the last person ever to see movies, and this unfortunate fact is showing. /o\ (And dude, what is up with Josh Brolin, and why has he been playing so many terrifying Republicans lately?) Apropos of nothing, my brother is on sabbatical from being an Internet Tyrant tonight! By which I mean my internet is impressively faily, by which I mean that whenever I download/upload music the internet (thereby affecting every other computer in the house) crawls along at the relative pace of a slug on weed, by which I mean that computer-addicted brother goes bonkers every time I want new music. WHICH MEANS THAT TONIGHT I HAVE THE INTERNET TO MYSELF AND HAVE BEEN DOWNLOADING LIKE A MAD THING WHICH MEANS THAT I AM ALSO WELCOMING YOUR REQUESTS WITH ALACRITY! Um, I have no formal pdf of my library, but here's my last.fm if you want to have a poke around. Also: Y HALO THAR, NEW FRIENDS! *waves* Haven't checked my flist yet today (first impression for the ages, right), but SUP? I might write up an intro post tomorrow, but if I don't, I've got to update my user info so it says something other than "I like 'A Softer World' comics and stealing 'A Softer World' comics and putting them in my user info" pretty soon anyway, so you know. Whatever comes first. read 78 · call me a taxi · prepare me for landing · remember

YOUR EPIC FAIL OF THE EVE [Feb 18th, 12:46am] [ mood | RIDICPANTS (ridichairshirt?) ] [ music | "Rock N Roll Nigger," by Patti Smith ] I just made what was going to be a silly but nonetheless indomitably BADASS playlist for when I am feeling silly but nonetheless indomitably BADASS. Only when I actually started to listen to it, I realized that not only was it the most un-badassiest thing I had ever heard, but that IT SOUNDED LIKE SHIT. I MADE SINGULARLY AWESOME SONGS SOUND LIKE SHIT! I am certain there is a rung in hell saved for people like me. K. I'm going to bed now, but I felt the need to confess so I could feel absolved and my dreams would not be haunted by Kid Rock Satan. Thanks for listening, Fathers. read 18 · call me a taxi · prepare me for landing · remember

sometimes I even post poems about boobies! (or: fuck me, I love Leonard Cohen) [Feb 13th, 9:55pm] [ mood | silly ] [ music | that our love is not that kind of love ] "Beneath My Hands" by Leonard Cohen Beneath my hands your small breasts are the upturned bellies of breathing fallen sparrows. Wherever you move I hear the sounds of closing wings of falling wings. I am speechless because you have fallen beside me because your eyelashes are the spines of tiny fragile animals. I dread the time when your mouth begins to call me hunter. When you call me close to tell me your body is not beautiful I want to summon the eyes and hidden mouths of stone and light and water to testify against you. I want them to surrender before you the trembling rhyme of your face from their deep caskets. When you call me close to tell me your body is not beautiful I want my body and my hands to be pools for your looking and laughing. ( additional rambling for those so inclined ) read 37 · call me a taxi · prepare me for landing · remember

aw, feel it quake with the joy resounding, palm to the palm, you can feel it pounding [Feb 10th, 5:15pm] [ mood | bouncy ] [ music | "Golden Age," by TV on the Radio ] PERHAPS someday in the future I shall contribute meaningfully to your flist with a narrative that is at once resonant and trenchant! TODAY IS NOT THAT DAY. STOP! IT'S MEME TIME! It's inevitable that as we read each other's journals we create mental pictures of each other. Post this on your own journal to find out who your friends see when they read about your life. Two Rules: 1) The person must be in the movies or on TV (but doesn't have to be an actor/actress). The person can be specific to a role or character or just the person. 2) Post a picture. GO TEAM! read 48 · call me a taxi · prepare me for landing · remember

replace it with a UV light so I can be the beacon of hope that you've always expected [Jan 27th, 4:29pm] [ mood | chipper ] [ music | "Broken Heartbeats Sound Like Breakbeats" by Los Campesinos! ] I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO TELL YOU.... I figure being perpetually caught up on my flist + occasionally piping in with posts ruminating on Marc Chagall's contribution to the zombie apocalypse TOTALLY means it's time for the anon memes to start kicking around this journal. Trufax, I have been admiring them from afar all throughout my LJ furlough. I'm not so sure what exactly is the allure of eye-burning html marshaling in comments promising to tell me I've an alternate personality moonlighting as a furry, BUT I'M ROLLING WITH IT, MOTHERFUCKERS. Other things I love: 1) Jeanette Winterson rendered sketchy by fangirling Alison Bechdel, 2) MY RIDICULOUS FUCKING HETEROSEXIST PURITANICAL ADJECTIVE-ABUSE-INDUCING FORMAL "SEX EDUCATION" FINALLY FUCKING ENDING THIS WEEK, 3) dancing around my living room to Los Campesinos! in very little clothing, and 3) LONG CAT IS LOOOOOOOONG. Oh my god the internet is eating my brain. Hi, flist! How are you all? read 27 · call me a taxi · prepare me for landing · remember

he's a WHAT? he's a WHAT? [Jan 21st, 10:11pm] [ mood | worried, I think I should be ] [ music | "Dancing Choose" by TV on the Radio ] So, today I was aiming to make a post about America's First President To Have Paraphrased Spider-Man And What He Means To Me, but I opted instead to go up to my room, to very quickly drop off my coat, and then somehow I found myself waking up twenty years later in the middle of the Catskill mountains with a crazy fuckin' beard and a revolution I knew nothing about underway in my motherland, and my wife is dead, and MY LIFE WAS LIKE TOTALLY OVER-- And then I decided to stop being Rip Van Winkle and study for my math test like the diligent little student I am. Even though it was almost six-o-fucking-clock, WHAT. Which is what I did all day night, sans eat dinner, which is why I was going to go back to sleep without so much as a flist comment today, but my dad just came home from his Very Important Temple Gathering. Evidently, the featured film of his Very Important Moth-Ball-Scented, Sweater-Vest-Clad Temple Gathering Film Night was not about "uhhh some old Jewish person!" ("...could you be a little more specific than that, Dad?" "Uhhh I think, something about, uh, art?") as was promised over the phone, but was about MARC FUCKING CHAGALL whom I love madly (who is, admittedly, some old--if by "old" you mean "dead"--Jewish person with something to do with art, but so is my grandma and her collection of horrifying malformed beaded animals). My precious father, who is officially the preciousest dad in all the land, tried to make it up to me by offering to stalk Marc Chagall's granddaughter in her place of employ. I wish I knew what to make of this. eta: BECAUSE MY DAD'S BRAIN, LET ME SHOW IT TO YOU. It only gets crackier. DAD: ALSO MARC CHAGALL SPOKE TO US AND HE WAS REALLY NICE! ME: Dad, Marc Chagall is dead oh my god what sect of Judaism did you say your temple was again? DAD: HA HA HA. ME: No, but seriously, he's dead. You, you know this, right? DAD: YES! ME: ...?!? DAD: I MEANT. HE SPOKE. IN THE MOVIE. OH OH IT'S STILL PLAYING! YOU COULD SEE IT WITH ME! MICHELLE MICHELLE COME BE JEWISH WITH ME!!! Next week, you guys, I am going to join my father in COMMUNING WITH THE DEAD. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO? I'M LOOKIN' AT YOU, MR. OBAMA. CAN YOU ZOMBIFY MARC CHAGALL? I THINK NOT! read 13 · call me a taxi · prepare me for landing · remember

HI, EVERYONE! PLEASE DON'T HURT ME. [Dec 4th, 11:12pm] [ mood | *awkwardturtles* ] HELLOOOOOOO, KIDS! ADULTS! MUSKRATS! GIRLS! BOYS! GENDERQUEER PEOPLE! WOMEN! MEN! FANTHINGS! COBRAS! LICHEN! PATHOGENS! ALL KATHLEENS EVERYWHERE WHO ARE LISTED DIRECTLY AFTER "PATHOGENS" SO AS TO PROVIDE AN AMPLE CONTRAST BECAUSE A KATHLEEN IS FACTUALLY COMPRISED OF HOLY WATER, MYSTERIOUS GOLDEN LIGHT, AND PONIES! ANY CATEGORIES OF LIFE I HAVE IGNORANTLY GLOSSED OVER IN MY HASTE TO BE CREEPILY EXUBERANT! HI. HI HI HI. SALUT! HOLA! HOLLA! ETC. If you are unsure, yes, this is veritably two_grey_rooms, more commonly known as Ellie, and not some relation thereof asking you to please send your condolences to the family because Ellie has died in a tragic and untimely accident. Nor am I a spambot with a Trojan encoded in the exclamation-mark-y reign of terror wot you have witnessed above. I REPEAT, this is [Bad username: TWO_GREY_MOTHERFUCKING_ROOMS] in the FLESH on a COMPUTER CHAIR with a KEYBOARD. TALKING. TO YOU ALL. RIGHT. NOW. DO NOT BE ALARMED! (Also, I am not a zombie. evidently, I am. see comments to rain_explodes for details.) I come bearing a sensational announcement: I AM ALIVE. You know that thing that I haven't been doing? That thing that involves, idk, some reeeeal strenuous shit like idk ACTUALLY COMMUNICATING WITH ALL OF YOU LOVELY PEOPLE. Well. It should be, you know, happening from now on. This means that if you had me on an "I am not actually sure this person exists, and if they do, I do not want them reading my lj because they are probably using it for lethally dodgy and perhaps even lecherous purposes, oh my god I do not even remember consentually friending this user, will someone call the cops already" filter or some variant thereof, PLEASE TO BE RECTIFYING THIS. You are all awesome to purely absurd degrees, and I cannot even adequately convey how made of fail I have been. HI, OLD PEOPLE! I cannot wait to get home from school tomorrow so we can ~~rekindle old flames and hopefully this rekindling will not involve too many instances of setting me on fire, even though my social skills and I thoroughly thoroughly deserve it. HI, NEW PEOPLE! I think we should get to know each other like proper old chaps and I should not be a LJfucktard anymore! YOU ALL SEEM PROFOUNDLY AWESOME, EVEN IF YOU HAVE BEEN ON MY FLIST FOR SEVERAL MONTHS AND I AM STILL FORCED TO REFER TO YOU AS "NEW PEOPLE" BECAUSE OF AFOREMENTIONED EGREGIOUS SOCIAL SKILLS. \o/ Now I am going to get to bed, so I can pretend to be functional in five and a half hours, and then I can come home from school, probably sleep until I am declared catatonic, magically reanimate around dinnertime, and TALK TO YOU ALL ALL THE BLESSED FRIDAY-NIGHT LONG! It has been far, far, far, far, far too motherfucking long. PS: WHOA MY LIVEJOURNAL IS LOOKING KIND OF FUNKY. By which I not only mean that I've had the same layout and user info since eighth grade, but uh. The text is all excruciatingly tiny, and yeah, this exercise in eye-killing is only happening on MY lj and no other pages at all? Can anyone think of a feasible reason for this, aside from due penance for neglecting the magical land of lj and betraying Jesus and killing Tinkerbell and whatnot? Oh dear me, internets is weird. I bet you have all missed my tedious lj-related technical questions so, so much ♥ ♥ ♥. read 60 · call me a taxi · prepare me for landing · remember

driven by my sister here, unafraid and unaware [Nov 1st, 7:53pm] [ mood | shocked ] [ music | "Incredibly Drunk on Whiskey" - Memphis ] Tonight's monotony has momentarily been mutilated! YAY ALLITERATIONS? Anyway. After several hours of particularly inspired procrastination (I began by leaving a bunch of frenetic LJ comments and eventually wound up discovering that I was The Most Inflexible Person On The Planet, as I evidently cannot: a) reach my foot behind my head, b) sit in the full lotus position for longer than two seconds, c) lick my elbow, d) touch my tongue to my nose, or e) adequately sing ballads bemoaning an attractive girl in my Spanish class, her vapidness, and her unfortunate love of Dan Brown), I settled down to write essays. It hasn't been fun, unless you count gratuitous exclamations of "COCKSUCKER!" aimed at the computer. I also somehow managed to slice open my left pinky finger. Nothing I do is ever less than hardcore, kids, even writing essays on Bradbury books. SO, THE MOMENTARY MONOTONY-MUTILATING. It is, in all unexpectedness, thanks to my sweet little brother. This news is so earth-shattering, yes, that it merits a LiveJournal update, I promise. He, who blindly loathes everything in my musical library that does not involve AC/DC, likes a song by an indie band. IS THIS NOT HUGE? IT IS HUGE. DEMANDS FOR "INCREDIBLY DRUNK ON WHISKEY" DO NOT COME EVERY DAY, ALL RIGHT. In even more fascinating news, aforementioned song just ended and aforementioned brother has just called someone on the phone and asked, "Who is this?" upon receiving an answer. I think I should be concerned, but I am too busy wondering whether Bradbury can touch his tongue to his nose to care. read 19 · call me a taxi · prepare me for landing · remember

[Aug 14th, 11:51pm] [ mood | accomplished ] [ music | -sob- ] MY DAD: "I'll be gay for Jon Stewart." I FINALLY GOT HIM TO SAY IT. FINALLY. This joyous occasion must be preserved in my journal forevermore. I SHALL REMEMBER THIS DAY FOREVERS AND EVERS AND EVERS AND EVERS. -is ridiculously proud of self- read 18 · call me a taxi · prepare me for landing · remember

[May 2nd, 9:12pm] [ mood | accomplished ] [ music | "Rainy Night House" - Joni Mitchell ] After a long, grueling debate with myself, I've decided to go... (Made by ichabunni.) Drop me a comment and I'll probably friend you back. (Psst, comments on this post are deleted periodically. So if you have something of vital and abiding importance to share, this would probably be a bad place to do so.) call me a taxi · prepare me for landing · remember

navigation [ viewing | most recent entries ] [ go | earlier ]