Languishing in Repitition
April 2010
Rewind. And it comes to your attention at the same time the entire rest of the world does, a few years and a few (more than a few) mistakes late. The guilt sets in and it’s hindsight bias. Thank you life. Congratulations on your inadequacy. Cheers to your failures! Would of, should of, could of. If only. You can’t blame yourself for what you don’t perceive until later. It’s not your fault if you never looked, never knew. It’s okay that you didn’t want to, really, it is. It will be fine...
...You know what they say about bliss.
Oh, I keep telling myself this. Making excuses. It’s perfectly understandable. People do this all the time, I say, over and over again, in my head. Its repetition is comforting; echoing the consistency of a place I find some semblance of safety in. A mantra, a prayer, the excuses become the very things that anchor me to the ground. Except I’m actually stuck knee deep in quicksand, too busy daydreaming and wallowing in guilt to watch where I was walking. Now I’m left to struggle.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions, my dad would say this. Repeatedly. In one ear and out the other, he would say. His advice was lost on my stubbornness masked as indifference. Fear masked as stubbornness, weakness masked as fear. Whatever you would like to call it. Whatever you would like to say. Go ahead, say it. I know that you do when you think I’m not listening. I need to hear you mock me while I’m drowning in my own mess. I wish I could say that I didn’t ask for this.
Pause. It’s the beginning of Spring, in a city I can’t stand, and every dead plant is blossoming. The roads are colored pink with cherry blossoms. This I enjoy. Yet, the smell of skunk and mulch linger in the street like the warm smell of cigarettes in my car. It’s souring.
The sky is blue again, for longer, and when it rains I don’t mind getting my hair wet. I walk with no umbrella and carry a hair dryer in my purse. Ready for anything, you would have said. Except when I pull it out to use it its covered in a mixture of lotion, loose tobacco, and faded portions of old receipts. You’re not surprised, and nor am I.
I start to wear skirts and sandals, long before the weather gives me the go ahead, but the goosebumps on my thighs are worth it, I tell myself this, repeatedly. It’s not cold. It’s not cold. It’s not cold. But I’m still shivering, and you’re still wearing your winter coat with as much pride as you wear your condemning I told you so.
I lighten my hair, paint my nails pink instead of red and smoke cigarettes on my porch by candlelight. I feel rebirth all around me, and I want to join it, but I just light one cigarette after the other, watching the hours fade into morning. Again.
I feel like a raccoon, some creature of habit, coming out at night and lurking in the garbage, just to assuage the hunger that growls from the pit of my empty chest. It all seems too dramatic.
But wait, I start picking apart the dead skin of my life. Exfoliate. Shave. Repeat. I look in the mirror and smile, but I can’t look at my lips while the white spots of pimple cream make a mocking “a” shape, cascading down my face. Small, graceful, steps. I guess.
I try to save. Send more than the minimum payment to the credit card company. They stop calling every day at 8am. Try not to overdraft this month.
Call my grandmother. Drive with the windows down. Order a glass of wine. Pick up a book. It all seems like what I should be doing. I walk around with friends outside. I stare at the landscape in awe. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. There is peace of mind. I am falling asleep at night.
Hurry and pause this right here. Watch it stagnate into the illusion that it is. Watch it try, try, try.
Play. And this all seems like I found it on VHS in the attic of an old house. The attic in an old house I could have grown up in, that has burnt to the ground.
I’m alone when I play this and there you are, walking across the screen. Waving. Smiling. Remember me, you say. And I do, but you’ve changed, so I fast forward a little but the tape cuts out and the screen starts to snow. There’s no audio. How quickly I lost you trying to find you. Again. In a potential future of the timeless past.
There’s no pause. No stagnating illusion but the one I’m creating as we speak. It’s not an albums new release, it’s that old tattered book on the shelf just out of arms reach. It’s smells like mold and it will repeat. And repeat.
Light a match and all that’s left amongst the ash is the empty frame of a home, and the melting videotape of the stillborn child I have become.
I wrap myself up and become the paradox of the present that I leave at the foot of my bed to open later, but end up shoving into some closet while I clean up, preparing for your arrival in a useless (and endless) anticipation that I have come to know and hate.
Repeat.
Repeat.
Repeat.
This is not a soap opera. This is not a sitcom. This is not reality television. This is a riptide, pulling a child farther away towards the mouth of a shark while he was only looking for seashells. This is the downpour. The rain, the waterfalls.
This is not a cry for help. Or for pity. This is the song.
I’m dancing with tap shoes on, on a wooden floor while you’re sleeping below me. Wake up. Look at what you’ve created, this dance. Listen to it in all the glory of it’s annoyance. Find the rhythm of it’s consistent beats as it repeats. Repeats. Repeats.
By: Lindsay Gulics
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
Ode to Hummus
Rough
Hundreds of chickpeas
Smashed and murdered
into one,
With lemon,
Broth,
Garlic,
Tahini,
Salt, pepper
And memories
Of my great grandmother.
This Syrian cement;
This symbol of my family;
My culture.
Like a paste
Holding my family together
Through flavors
eating;
Happiness.
Satisfying
my late night hunger
Is as satisfying
as iced green tea
After
a long run in the summer.
The two go together, really.
So when all is gone
Its time to murder
Yet another can
Of the little chickpeas.
Enter them into
The thrash chamber
Of giant blades,
Like a vicious horror movie,
Only to please
A family of
15.
Hummus.
Ode to Hummus (by Ashley Grabowski) REVISED
Hundreds of chickpeas
Destroyed and murdered
By two large blades,
add lemon to ease the pain,
Broth,
Garlic,
Tahini,
Salt, pepper
And memories
Of my great grandmother.
Tough,
Tiny,
Hard to please.
This Syrian cement;
My culture.
Like a paste
Holding my family together
Through flavors
eating;
experimentation:
add some:
peppers?
Sundried tomatoes?
Olives?
Drown my pita
In this chickpea combo,
To satisfy
my late night hunger;
Is as satisfying
as cold green tea
After
a long run in the summer..
It compliments a turkey sandwich,
Sometimes better than mustard.
So when all is gone
Its time to murder
Yet another can
Of the puny chickpeas.
Enter them into
The thrash chamber
Of giant blades,
Like a vicious horror movie,
Only to please
A family of
15.
Hummus.
Hundreds of chickpeas
Smashed and murdered
into one,
With lemon,
Broth,
Garlic,
Tahini,
Salt, pepper
And memories
Of my great grandmother.
This Syrian cement;
This symbol of my family;
My culture.
Like a paste
Holding my family together
Through flavors
eating;
Happiness.
Satisfying
my late night hunger
Is as satisfying
as iced green tea
After
a long run in the summer.
The two go together, really.
So when all is gone
Its time to murder
Yet another can
Of the little chickpeas.
Enter them into
The thrash chamber
Of giant blades,
Like a vicious horror movie,
Only to please
A family of
15.
Hummus.
Ode to Hummus (by Ashley Grabowski) REVISED
Hundreds of chickpeas
Destroyed and murdered
By two large blades,
add lemon to ease the pain,
Broth,
Garlic,
Tahini,
Salt, pepper
And memories
Of my great grandmother.
Tough,
Tiny,
Hard to please.
This Syrian cement;
My culture.
Like a paste
Holding my family together
Through flavors
eating;
experimentation:
add some:
peppers?
Sundried tomatoes?
Olives?
Drown my pita
In this chickpea combo,
To satisfy
my late night hunger;
Is as satisfying
as cold green tea
After
a long run in the summer..
It compliments a turkey sandwich,
Sometimes better than mustard.
So when all is gone
Its time to murder
Yet another can
Of the puny chickpeas.
Enter them into
The thrash chamber
Of giant blades,
Like a vicious horror movie,
Only to please
A family of
15.
Hummus.
first line trigger poem
– Note: This was supposed to get work shopped but I missed class that day, however I used your notes to revise it !
ROUGH
This kiss, unfinished
Seeming certain at that moment
As certain as the blanket
Intertwined within our bodies.
As certain as the socks
And pants on the ground.
This kiss, unfinished
And most certainly uncertain
As uncertain as her hair band
Still on your wrist
And uncertain as her picture
On your phone.
This unfinished kiss
Is finished.
This Kiss (REVISED)
This kiss, unfinished
Seeming certain at that moment.
As certain as the blanket
Intertwined around our bodies;
As certain as the white and black socks
With our pants strewn on the floor.
This kiss, unfinished
And most certainly uncertain.
As unsure as her hair band
Still on your wrist
With pieces of her hair, still attached.
And as terrifying as her picture,
Still on your phone.
This unfinished kiss
Is finished.
ROUGH
This kiss, unfinished
Seeming certain at that moment
As certain as the blanket
Intertwined within our bodies.
As certain as the socks
And pants on the ground.
This kiss, unfinished
And most certainly uncertain
As uncertain as her hair band
Still on your wrist
And uncertain as her picture
On your phone.
This unfinished kiss
Is finished.
This Kiss (REVISED)
This kiss, unfinished
Seeming certain at that moment.
As certain as the blanket
Intertwined around our bodies;
As certain as the white and black socks
With our pants strewn on the floor.
This kiss, unfinished
And most certainly uncertain.
As unsure as her hair band
Still on your wrist
With pieces of her hair, still attached.
And as terrifying as her picture,
Still on your phone.
This unfinished kiss
Is finished.
form poem rough and revised
FORM POETRY ATTEMPT
Rough
Food is a Way of Life
The art of eating isn’t hard to master;
From devouring breakfast’s eggs
Then going for a run with your legs
Helps your metabolism to only go faster.
Don’t eat late at night
for you’ll have an awful nightmare;
Unless you eat funnel cake at the fair.
The next day your muscles will fight.
A scoop of peanut butter
Will give your mouth a clutter,
But give the water bottle a chug
And it will give your stomach a plug.
REVISED
Food vs. Me
The art of eating isn’t hard to master;
From consumption of breakfast’s eggs
Then going for a run with my legs
Protein helps my body move faster.
Don’t eat late at night
for I’ll encounter a monstrous nightmare;
Unless I eat funnel cake at the fair.
“Oh Jeeze, these jeans are tight!”
A scoop of peanut butter
Usually fills the belly.
If I may, add some jelly.
A glass of milk would make my stomach mutter.
Steer clear of ice cream and cheese
Or else I’ll scream, “TOILET! PLEASE!”
Rough
Food is a Way of Life
The art of eating isn’t hard to master;
From devouring breakfast’s eggs
Then going for a run with your legs
Helps your metabolism to only go faster.
Don’t eat late at night
for you’ll have an awful nightmare;
Unless you eat funnel cake at the fair.
The next day your muscles will fight.
A scoop of peanut butter
Will give your mouth a clutter,
But give the water bottle a chug
And it will give your stomach a plug.
REVISED
Food vs. Me
The art of eating isn’t hard to master;
From consumption of breakfast’s eggs
Then going for a run with my legs
Protein helps my body move faster.
Don’t eat late at night
for I’ll encounter a monstrous nightmare;
Unless I eat funnel cake at the fair.
“Oh Jeeze, these jeans are tight!”
A scoop of peanut butter
Usually fills the belly.
If I may, add some jelly.
A glass of milk would make my stomach mutter.
Steer clear of ice cream and cheese
Or else I’ll scream, “TOILET! PLEASE!”
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Poem CUT UP - REVISION
Ashley Grabowski
ORIGINAL
It used to feel a lot more real when it used to be a lot more worse.
It all feels like a dream now that things are the way they
Being held, being smiled at, laughed at; what is this?
Who wrote the script for you? Where are the cameras?
I don't know, I don't want this to disappear,
yet,
How will I ever know the right side?
It's the reeling, the feeling, and the peeling for your intimacy.
CUT UP
and I be the way things I disappear, yet, How all I is cameras? I dream reeling, like script the this Where for used things at; now smiled it like I used reeling, like now don't side? It's the all cameras? I used are cameras? I will the they feels now right is it to a all the the script peeling disappear, yet, How been. Being lot should've now and real feel way peeling the I things this a what Where know to
CUT UP - REVISED
And I be;
The way things are,
I disappear.
Yet,
How all I is cameras?
I dream reeling,
Like script.
The
This,
Where
For used things.
Now smile
Like I used reeling.
Like now.
Don’t side.
It’s the cameras.
I used cameras.
They feel now,
To all the script,
Peeling.
Disappear, yet
How’ve you been?
Being lost,
Real.
Feel the way its
Peeling.
The things;
What we know.
ORIGINAL
It used to feel a lot more real when it used to be a lot more worse.
It all feels like a dream now that things are the way they
Being held, being smiled at, laughed at; what is this?
Who wrote the script for you? Where are the cameras?
I don't know, I don't want this to disappear,
yet,
How will I ever know the right side?
It's the reeling, the feeling, and the peeling for your intimacy.
CUT UP
and I be the way things I disappear, yet, How all I is cameras? I dream reeling, like script the this Where for used things at; now smiled it like I used reeling, like now don't side? It's the all cameras? I used are cameras? I will the they feels now right is it to a all the the script peeling disappear, yet, How been. Being lot should've now and real feel way peeling the I things this a what Where know to
CUT UP - REVISED
And I be;
The way things are,
I disappear.
Yet,
How all I is cameras?
I dream reeling,
Like script.
The
This,
Where
For used things.
Now smile
Like I used reeling.
Like now.
Don’t side.
It’s the cameras.
I used cameras.
They feel now,
To all the script,
Peeling.
Disappear, yet
How’ve you been?
Being lost,
Real.
Feel the way its
Peeling.
The things;
What we know.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Revised Short story for Workshop A
Follow the North Star
Aiden DeJesus was a character of his own. Most people questioned where his head was and why he preached the things that he did. He was all about revealing his personal outlook on life and what makes our souls peaceful. He was religious in a sense; however, music, was what made him, him. Starting in his sophomore year of high school, Aiden began to lose it. First was the alcohol, next came the marijuana and shortly after, the experiments exceeded. 17 years old and a senior in high school, Aiden started to worry his friends and family, but most of all, his best friend Joey who lived around the corner from him.
Joey Freeman, 19, was one of the only human beings that could understand Aiden. Yes, he was his partner in crime; yet, Joey had a much better grasp on controlling his life outside of the trouble he and Aiden would get in to.
"Dude, you down for a trip tonight? I got," Asked Joey, excitedly.
“Hell yeah, dude.” I wanna escape this week's hell for a while," responded Aiden. “I got emails from 2 of my teachers declaring that I’m failing their courses, spent the last of my money on bud last night and got into a huge fight with my parents about mad unnecessary shit.”
The friends placed the tablets on their tongues and passed the time by playing hacky sac while they waited for it to kick in.
Hours later, Aiden was woken up near a lake by two fat cops.
"Son, what are you doing here?" asked the cop.
"God told me to follow the North Star, and I did," said Aiden.
"Oh… right…. Well considering we just found you sleeping next to a lake an hour away from your home, I think it's time you came with us." Replied the cop.
“How do you know where I’m from?” Aiden asked with concern.
“We found your wallet and took a look at your license,” said the cop.
Aiden's last memory before his apparent encounter with god was being at a party at his friends' school at TCNJ with Joey. What the FUCK is going on? Where is Joey?
He knew that if his parents found out about whatever this incident was, that he wouldn't be seeing anyone for a very long time. It was one last chance before they sent him to a rehab center and if anything, this was that last chance.
"We're gonna have to call your parents, kid," said the cop.
Aiden got up, releasing a massive sigh, noticing that his jeans were covered in mud and grass stains and then suddenly had another vision from the previous night.
“BRO DO YOU SEE THAT?” asked Joey.
Ignoring Joey’s question, Aiden began his one of many speeches about music, life and god.
“Jesus presents us with music to cure and soothe our souls. Feel the peace flowing through your veins bro. The music. Feel it,” he said.
“Aiden, shut the hell up with that shit already. Look at the talking lizards for fuck’s sake. THEY ARE TALKING LIZARDS, AIDEN!”
Snapping out of this vision, the cop car pulled into Aiden’s parent’s driveway. His face turned to an unhealthily pale complexion.
“Are you sure that my parents need to find out about this? This really wasn’t my fault.” Lying, he continued, “I’m positive that someone spiked my drink, I swear that I had nothing to do with it. Please just let me go,” Aiden pleaded.
“Sorry kiddo but… your fault or not, you’re gonna have to take a visit to the emergency room and being that you’re under 18… your parents have to know,” said the cop. “And either way, you’re too young to be drinking so you’re screwed no matter what, kid. Sorry.”
“Well wait, where’s my friend Joey?” asked Aiden.
“We spoke to him after looking through your missed calls and he said he’d lost sight of you around 2:30 a.m. Said you wouldn’t answer the phone all night, but he’s home safe. Might want to give him a call. Seemed pretty concerned,” said the cop.
Word of the incident traveled pretty quickly and all of Aiden’s friends started quite the buzz about it. Of course there were different stories coming from everybody, however, nobody was the slightest bit surprised.
“Aiden this was it. We warned you, Aiden and you’ve gone beyond your limit. Your father and I haven’t slept in fucking months with the shit you’ve been getting into. You’re so lucky that you didn’t pass out IN the lake. You could have drowned yourself! My god! I can’t even stomach this, Aiden. Not one bit,” Aiden’s Mother paused. “I already called the rehab center. You leave in December,” she said.
Tears rolled down Aiden’s helpless face. He picked up the phone and called Joey.
Previous to this predicament, there were situations such as Aiden drinking himself to a state of blacking out, puking on his phone and then flushing it down the toilet. The staff at Verizon got quite a kick out of that story. Another time, he was on such an awful trip from eating shrooms that he almost killed his friend for no reason at all. He claimed that he was looking at him funny so he drew a butcher knife from the kid’s kitchen draw. And then of course there were the many times where he tried “cuddling” with his various female friends and by the way that he approached each of them, none of them were enthused what so ever. It had gotten to a point where no one even knew the real Aiden anymore.
His departure for rehab was unannounced and it was sudden and very saddening to everyone. Joey was the only one who knew anything so as any friend would do; he gave everyone the run down.
A message was forwarded to all of Aiden’s friends reading:
“Hey everyone. As you might have heard, Aiden has been going through a rough time and he was recently enrolled at a teen Christian rehab center in Pennsylvania. He is not aloud to use his phone nor computers so the best that we can do to contact him is by mail. But here’s the catch: No profanity can be included as well as avoiding anything about alcohol or other illegal substances. The staff will read these letters before Aiden sees them so make sure you choose your words carefully. Remember this is his closest case of contact to the outside world, so he’d love to hear from all of you.
- Joey”
Under it, read the address to which the letters should be sent.
Months later, after everyone had sent Aiden letters, they began receiving response letters and it was like hearing from a ghost.
Joey walked inside his house with the letter in his hands, shaking with excitement. When he finally opened and read the letter, he was quite pleased. It was very long, talking about how he was learning a lot, eating properly, gaining a better relationship with god, Etc. However… one part that especially stood out for Joey read: “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. – I Corinthians 13:13”
With a thin gloss overcoming Joey’s eyes, he smiled and sat down on his bed, glancing at a picture of him and Aiden.
“You saved me, bro,” he said to the picture, “You saved a lot of us. Fucking kid’s a saint in disguise.”
Aiden DeJesus was a character of his own. Most people questioned where his head was and why he preached the things that he did. He was all about revealing his personal outlook on life and what makes our souls peaceful. He was religious in a sense; however, music, was what made him, him. Starting in his sophomore year of high school, Aiden began to lose it. First was the alcohol, next came the marijuana and shortly after, the experiments exceeded. 17 years old and a senior in high school, Aiden started to worry his friends and family, but most of all, his best friend Joey who lived around the corner from him.
Joey Freeman, 19, was one of the only human beings that could understand Aiden. Yes, he was his partner in crime; yet, Joey had a much better grasp on controlling his life outside of the trouble he and Aiden would get in to.
"Dude, you down for a trip tonight? I got," Asked Joey, excitedly.
“Hell yeah, dude.” I wanna escape this week's hell for a while," responded Aiden. “I got emails from 2 of my teachers declaring that I’m failing their courses, spent the last of my money on bud last night and got into a huge fight with my parents about mad unnecessary shit.”
The friends placed the tablets on their tongues and passed the time by playing hacky sac while they waited for it to kick in.
Hours later, Aiden was woken up near a lake by two fat cops.
"Son, what are you doing here?" asked the cop.
"God told me to follow the North Star, and I did," said Aiden.
"Oh… right…. Well considering we just found you sleeping next to a lake an hour away from your home, I think it's time you came with us." Replied the cop.
“How do you know where I’m from?” Aiden asked with concern.
“We found your wallet and took a look at your license,” said the cop.
Aiden's last memory before his apparent encounter with god was being at a party at his friends' school at TCNJ with Joey. What the FUCK is going on? Where is Joey?
He knew that if his parents found out about whatever this incident was, that he wouldn't be seeing anyone for a very long time. It was one last chance before they sent him to a rehab center and if anything, this was that last chance.
"We're gonna have to call your parents, kid," said the cop.
Aiden got up, releasing a massive sigh, noticing that his jeans were covered in mud and grass stains and then suddenly had another vision from the previous night.
“BRO DO YOU SEE THAT?” asked Joey.
Ignoring Joey’s question, Aiden began his one of many speeches about music, life and god.
“Jesus presents us with music to cure and soothe our souls. Feel the peace flowing through your veins bro. The music. Feel it,” he said.
“Aiden, shut the hell up with that shit already. Look at the talking lizards for fuck’s sake. THEY ARE TALKING LIZARDS, AIDEN!”
Snapping out of this vision, the cop car pulled into Aiden’s parent’s driveway. His face turned to an unhealthily pale complexion.
“Are you sure that my parents need to find out about this? This really wasn’t my fault.” Lying, he continued, “I’m positive that someone spiked my drink, I swear that I had nothing to do with it. Please just let me go,” Aiden pleaded.
“Sorry kiddo but… your fault or not, you’re gonna have to take a visit to the emergency room and being that you’re under 18… your parents have to know,” said the cop. “And either way, you’re too young to be drinking so you’re screwed no matter what, kid. Sorry.”
“Well wait, where’s my friend Joey?” asked Aiden.
“We spoke to him after looking through your missed calls and he said he’d lost sight of you around 2:30 a.m. Said you wouldn’t answer the phone all night, but he’s home safe. Might want to give him a call. Seemed pretty concerned,” said the cop.
Word of the incident traveled pretty quickly and all of Aiden’s friends started quite the buzz about it. Of course there were different stories coming from everybody, however, nobody was the slightest bit surprised.
“Aiden this was it. We warned you, Aiden and you’ve gone beyond your limit. Your father and I haven’t slept in fucking months with the shit you’ve been getting into. You’re so lucky that you didn’t pass out IN the lake. You could have drowned yourself! My god! I can’t even stomach this, Aiden. Not one bit,” Aiden’s Mother paused. “I already called the rehab center. You leave in December,” she said.
Tears rolled down Aiden’s helpless face. He picked up the phone and called Joey.
Previous to this predicament, there were situations such as Aiden drinking himself to a state of blacking out, puking on his phone and then flushing it down the toilet. The staff at Verizon got quite a kick out of that story. Another time, he was on such an awful trip from eating shrooms that he almost killed his friend for no reason at all. He claimed that he was looking at him funny so he drew a butcher knife from the kid’s kitchen draw. And then of course there were the many times where he tried “cuddling” with his various female friends and by the way that he approached each of them, none of them were enthused what so ever. It had gotten to a point where no one even knew the real Aiden anymore.
His departure for rehab was unannounced and it was sudden and very saddening to everyone. Joey was the only one who knew anything so as any friend would do; he gave everyone the run down.
A message was forwarded to all of Aiden’s friends reading:
“Hey everyone. As you might have heard, Aiden has been going through a rough time and he was recently enrolled at a teen Christian rehab center in Pennsylvania. He is not aloud to use his phone nor computers so the best that we can do to contact him is by mail. But here’s the catch: No profanity can be included as well as avoiding anything about alcohol or other illegal substances. The staff will read these letters before Aiden sees them so make sure you choose your words carefully. Remember this is his closest case of contact to the outside world, so he’d love to hear from all of you.
- Joey”
Under it, read the address to which the letters should be sent.
Months later, after everyone had sent Aiden letters, they began receiving response letters and it was like hearing from a ghost.
Joey walked inside his house with the letter in his hands, shaking with excitement. When he finally opened and read the letter, he was quite pleased. It was very long, talking about how he was learning a lot, eating properly, gaining a better relationship with god, Etc. However… one part that especially stood out for Joey read: “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. – I Corinthians 13:13”
With a thin gloss overcoming Joey’s eyes, he smiled and sat down on his bed, glancing at a picture of him and Aiden.
“You saved me, bro,” he said to the picture, “You saved a lot of us. Fucking kid’s a saint in disguise.”
Sunday, March 28, 2010
dialogue for 3/29
my own:
"Make me food!" said Dave.
"I know, I'm so hungry... I don't know what to do," said Ashley.
"I have dragonberry upstairs..." said Dave.
"Bacardi?" Ashley asked.
"Yeah... but I wish it was cereal," said Dave.
"Ugh. Me too."
not my own:
Regina: Why don't I know you?
Cady: I'm new. I just moved here from Africa.
Regina: What?
Cady: I used to be home-schooled.
Regina: Wait... what?
Cady: My mom taught me at home...
Regina: No, I know what home-school is, I'm not retarded! So you've actually never been to a real school before? Shut up! Shut up!
Cady: I didn't say anything.
"Make me food!" said Dave.
"I know, I'm so hungry... I don't know what to do," said Ashley.
"I have dragonberry upstairs..." said Dave.
"Bacardi?" Ashley asked.
"Yeah... but I wish it was cereal," said Dave.
"Ugh. Me too."
not my own:
Regina: Why don't I know you?
Cady: I'm new. I just moved here from Africa.
Regina: What?
Cady: I used to be home-schooled.
Regina: Wait... what?
Cady: My mom taught me at home...
Regina: No, I know what home-school is, I'm not retarded! So you've actually never been to a real school before? Shut up! Shut up!
Cady: I didn't say anything.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
beginning of my short story
"Dude, you down for a trip tonight? I got." Asked Joey, excitedly.
"Yeah dude! I wanna escape this week's hell for a while." Responded Aiden.
The two boys; Joey, 19 and Aiden, 17 placed the tablets onto their tongues. Not as though it was anything new, however this was a trip yet to be taken. This particular trip landed Aiden in a place that he never expected. Everything was blurry for Aiden from here on out.
"Son, what are you doing here?" asked the cop.
"God told me to follow the North Star, and I did." said Aiden.
"Oh, shit. Well considering we just found you sleeping next to a lake an hour away from your home, I think it's time you came with us." Replied the cop.
Aiden's last memory was being at a party at his friends' school at TCNJ, and now he was being woken up next to a lake by a few fat ass cops.
"What the FUCK is going on?" He thought.
He also knew that if his parents found out about this incident, he wouldn't be seeing anyone for a very long time. It was one last chance before they sent him to a rehab center and if anything, this was that last chance.
"We're gonna have to call your parents, kid." Said the cop.
"Yeah dude! I wanna escape this week's hell for a while." Responded Aiden.
The two boys; Joey, 19 and Aiden, 17 placed the tablets onto their tongues. Not as though it was anything new, however this was a trip yet to be taken. This particular trip landed Aiden in a place that he never expected. Everything was blurry for Aiden from here on out.
"Son, what are you doing here?" asked the cop.
"God told me to follow the North Star, and I did." said Aiden.
"Oh, shit. Well considering we just found you sleeping next to a lake an hour away from your home, I think it's time you came with us." Replied the cop.
Aiden's last memory was being at a party at his friends' school at TCNJ, and now he was being woken up next to a lake by a few fat ass cops.
"What the FUCK is going on?" He thought.
He also knew that if his parents found out about this incident, he wouldn't be seeing anyone for a very long time. It was one last chance before they sent him to a rehab center and if anything, this was that last chance.
"We're gonna have to call your parents, kid." Said the cop.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
storytelling 3/3/10
Five stories that i've told last week:
1) The story about how I was running and sliding through the snow and lost my phone at 1 a.m. on thursday in lot 6.
2) The story about how my roommate thought she was vomiting actual human beings.
3) The story about how I was threatened to get my car taken away by my parents.
4) The story about how I finally saw my younger sister kiss her boyfriend on the lips.
5) The story about how my dog likes to come into the bathroom while i'm on the toilet.
Five stories that i'd like to tell:
1) The story about how as jess was running down the hall, zach jumped in the air and straddled by putting each one of his feet on the walls while jess's face smashed right into his ass. Classic.
2) The story about how me and jess prank phone called our friends like it was middle school again.
3) The story of mine and zach's master plan to become rich.
4) The story about how I won first place doing my first dance solo when I was 9.
5) The story of how I busted my ass in front of a sideline full of soccer fans, at half time of a game that I was reffing.
1) The story about how I was running and sliding through the snow and lost my phone at 1 a.m. on thursday in lot 6.
2) The story about how my roommate thought she was vomiting actual human beings.
3) The story about how I was threatened to get my car taken away by my parents.
4) The story about how I finally saw my younger sister kiss her boyfriend on the lips.
5) The story about how my dog likes to come into the bathroom while i'm on the toilet.
Five stories that i'd like to tell:
1) The story about how as jess was running down the hall, zach jumped in the air and straddled by putting each one of his feet on the walls while jess's face smashed right into his ass. Classic.
2) The story about how me and jess prank phone called our friends like it was middle school again.
3) The story of mine and zach's master plan to become rich.
4) The story about how I won first place doing my first dance solo when I was 9.
5) The story of how I busted my ass in front of a sideline full of soccer fans, at half time of a game that I was reffing.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
prose poetry for 2/24
A smile to remember
we had goldfish and they circled around and around
in the bowl on the table near the heavy drapes
covering the picture window and
my mother, always smiling, wanting us all
to be happy, told me, "be happy Henry!"
and she was right: it's better to be happy if you
can
but my father continued to beat her and me several times a week while
raging inside his 6-foot-two frame because he couldn't
understand what was attacking him from within.
my mother, poor fish,
wanting to be happy, beaten two or three times a
week, telling me to be happy: "Henry, smile!
why don't you ever smile?"
and then she would smile, to show me how, and it was the
saddest smile I ever saw
one day the goldfish died, all five of them,
they floated on the water, on their sides, their
eyes still open,
and when my father got home he threw them to the cat
there on the kitchen floor and we watched as my mother
smiled
Charles Bukowski
http://www.poemsabout.com/poet/charles-bukowski/
we had goldfish and they circled around and around
in the bowl on the table near the heavy drapes
covering the picture window and
my mother, always smiling, wanting us all
to be happy, told me, "be happy Henry!"
and she was right: it's better to be happy if you
can
but my father continued to beat her and me several times a week while
raging inside his 6-foot-two frame because he couldn't
understand what was attacking him from within.
my mother, poor fish,
wanting to be happy, beaten two or three times a
week, telling me to be happy: "Henry, smile!
why don't you ever smile?"
and then she would smile, to show me how, and it was the
saddest smile I ever saw
one day the goldfish died, all five of them,
they floated on the water, on their sides, their
eyes still open,
and when my father got home he threw them to the cat
there on the kitchen floor and we watched as my mother
smiled
Charles Bukowski
http://www.poemsabout.com/poet/charles-bukowski/
Sunday, February 21, 2010
food blog #2 for Crit Writing
Welcome to Due Mari. A place where you wont leave unsatisfied but you WILL leave with an empty wallet. Due Mari is a fancy shmancy upscale italian restaurant on Albany Street in New Brunswick. Lucky for me, 3 of my close girlfriends work there and so through them I've made a whole new group of friends (the due mari staff). I claim to be a "mari wannabe", actually.
Anyway, most weekends that I go home from school, i'll sit at the bar and eat like a queen at this place. I've gone with my whole family before and it was strange being served by my friends who, had to act all prim and proper regardless. But if one of the girls isn't working (it's usually my friend lauren that I go with), we sit, eat and drink the night away. It's actually wonderful (except for the check; yes even with their discount) Just this past weekend, I went with Lauren and her friend Mariam. Let me just say, my hunger took over the fact that I knew i was pressed for money. I ordered a $26 entree and shared a salad, appetizer and dessert with the girls. First we were served pieces of warm foccacia bread, then our salads (which was a simple house salad with vinaigrette) and then out came the calamari. Best calamari to ever touch my tongue. NOW, for my entree, I ordered the "short ribs" meal. It was this unbelievably tender hunk of meat surrounded and topped with pickled garnish (red cabbage maybe?) and potato puree. One of the most delicious plates of food i've had in a long time. On the other hand, everything from Mari is delectable. I housed it; made sure I was getting every penny's worth. Dessert? Oh yes. Tartaletta. Not too sure about the spelling, but it doesn't matter. It's a little rich and chocolaty pie shaped dessert topped with ice cream and RASPBERRIES. YUM. Oh and at this point, I'd like to mention i'm near ready to vomit and entirely satisfied with this feeling. But hey, enough about the food.
Ever had someone stare at you for more than 5 seconds, continuously over a long period of time? IT'S GOD AWFULLY ANNOYING AND RUDE. My goodness what the hell is it that I can help you with, man? Is there something on my face? What is it? I'm trying to enjoy my time out with my friends and this couple across the way from us at the bar, maybe in their late 20's, early 30's, kept staring at me, smirking, and whispering. I was concerned to the point where I texted my parents trying to figure out if maybe it was one of our family friends and then I thought about how maybe they totally knew I wasn't 21 and were getting a giggle out of it? Either way, it was rude and definitely quite bothersome. Once this issue disappeared, 3 lovely men on travel for work, coming from virginia, sat next to me. The one directly to my left, I'll name him.... Peter. Peter was such a nice refreshing person to deal with after having rude man and rude women stare me down for a whole hour. He was asking me all about places to go out and what bars in the area were good. At this point I KNEW I couldn't have looked that young, so those other people were just idiots. Idiots. In the midst of all of this, I had a stomach ache forming into a size larger than Texas. Another successful night at Mari. A food filled belly and 40 bucks short. The best.
P.S. I Highly recommend you try it at least once and who knows, maybe by then i'll also be an employee ;) If not I promise that whoever is your server will NOT disappoint you. Everyone there is wonderful.
P.P.S The pizza is awesome. Gosh, everything's awesome.
Anyway, most weekends that I go home from school, i'll sit at the bar and eat like a queen at this place. I've gone with my whole family before and it was strange being served by my friends who, had to act all prim and proper regardless. But if one of the girls isn't working (it's usually my friend lauren that I go with), we sit, eat and drink the night away. It's actually wonderful (except for the check; yes even with their discount) Just this past weekend, I went with Lauren and her friend Mariam. Let me just say, my hunger took over the fact that I knew i was pressed for money. I ordered a $26 entree and shared a salad, appetizer and dessert with the girls. First we were served pieces of warm foccacia bread, then our salads (which was a simple house salad with vinaigrette) and then out came the calamari. Best calamari to ever touch my tongue. NOW, for my entree, I ordered the "short ribs" meal. It was this unbelievably tender hunk of meat surrounded and topped with pickled garnish (red cabbage maybe?) and potato puree. One of the most delicious plates of food i've had in a long time. On the other hand, everything from Mari is delectable. I housed it; made sure I was getting every penny's worth. Dessert? Oh yes. Tartaletta. Not too sure about the spelling, but it doesn't matter. It's a little rich and chocolaty pie shaped dessert topped with ice cream and RASPBERRIES. YUM. Oh and at this point, I'd like to mention i'm near ready to vomit and entirely satisfied with this feeling. But hey, enough about the food.
Ever had someone stare at you for more than 5 seconds, continuously over a long period of time? IT'S GOD AWFULLY ANNOYING AND RUDE. My goodness what the hell is it that I can help you with, man? Is there something on my face? What is it? I'm trying to enjoy my time out with my friends and this couple across the way from us at the bar, maybe in their late 20's, early 30's, kept staring at me, smirking, and whispering. I was concerned to the point where I texted my parents trying to figure out if maybe it was one of our family friends and then I thought about how maybe they totally knew I wasn't 21 and were getting a giggle out of it? Either way, it was rude and definitely quite bothersome. Once this issue disappeared, 3 lovely men on travel for work, coming from virginia, sat next to me. The one directly to my left, I'll name him.... Peter. Peter was such a nice refreshing person to deal with after having rude man and rude women stare me down for a whole hour. He was asking me all about places to go out and what bars in the area were good. At this point I KNEW I couldn't have looked that young, so those other people were just idiots. Idiots. In the midst of all of this, I had a stomach ache forming into a size larger than Texas. Another successful night at Mari. A food filled belly and 40 bucks short. The best.
P.S. I Highly recommend you try it at least once and who knows, maybe by then i'll also be an employee ;) If not I promise that whoever is your server will NOT disappoint you. Everyone there is wonderful.
P.P.S The pizza is awesome. Gosh, everything's awesome.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
food blog #1 for Crit Writing
I decided to keep this food blog when I was at Jose Teja's (Tex-Mex restaurant in Fairfield, NJ) one night. For whatever reason, I was extra observant that night and decided that recording certain aspects of different restaurants, or anywhere for that matter, could be quite entertaining.
It began when the waitress served my friends and I our second round of chips and salsa. At this point we had not received our meals and I was half way to being full. Was this their plan? I wasn't sure. I mean... I don't think that it benefits them? Maybe they figure... "Oh they'll be so full that they'll just need to bring home the left overs and when they eat it the next day, will be reminded of how fabulous our restaurant is! How could they not come back?" OR .. or, maybe they have a secret addictive ingredient in the salsa and/or the chips. Not gonna lie, I wouldn't doubt this one, my friends. After my past visit to Jose Tejas, I went 3 more times after within the next week and a half just JONESIN' for those chips and salsa. Interesting. Anyway, aside from all of my womping blabber... the food there is to die for and it's barely expensive. The place, is a gold mine. Tried going there at 330-4 on a Saturday and I had to wait an hour. Props to the owner!
People watching. People watching is always entertaining when you think into it. The table next to my friends and I were without a doubt the "first date couple" of the year.
"So, do you drink often?"
"What's your family like are you close with them?"
.. bill comes
"Oh i've got this, don't worry about it!" (The dude, of course.)
And then there was this older man behind us. He was sitting alone with a book to read, a glass of wine AND a bottle of beer (both full). He was then served a salad, a main course and an appetizer (all at the same time). The ideas being thrown around the table between my friends and I were as such:
"Maybe he's reviewing the restaurant."
"Maybe his wife died and this is where they came to eat all the time."
"Maybe he's just really alone."
"Maybe he got stood up."
and the ideas continued, of course while Todd and Jenny finished up their first date.
My friend then, wrote his number on the tip for the waitress. We told him that he wasn't only leaving his number for her, but for everyone else who will ever get that dollar bill. He didn't care.
P.S. The chicken quesadillas and fajitas are to die for.
P.P.S. You will reek of mexican food once you leave the place.
I give it a two thumbs up.
It began when the waitress served my friends and I our second round of chips and salsa. At this point we had not received our meals and I was half way to being full. Was this their plan? I wasn't sure. I mean... I don't think that it benefits them? Maybe they figure... "Oh they'll be so full that they'll just need to bring home the left overs and when they eat it the next day, will be reminded of how fabulous our restaurant is! How could they not come back?" OR .. or, maybe they have a secret addictive ingredient in the salsa and/or the chips. Not gonna lie, I wouldn't doubt this one, my friends. After my past visit to Jose Tejas, I went 3 more times after within the next week and a half just JONESIN' for those chips and salsa. Interesting. Anyway, aside from all of my womping blabber... the food there is to die for and it's barely expensive. The place, is a gold mine. Tried going there at 330-4 on a Saturday and I had to wait an hour. Props to the owner!
People watching. People watching is always entertaining when you think into it. The table next to my friends and I were without a doubt the "first date couple" of the year.
"So, do you drink often?"
"What's your family like are you close with them?"
.. bill comes
"Oh i've got this, don't worry about it!" (The dude, of course.)
And then there was this older man behind us. He was sitting alone with a book to read, a glass of wine AND a bottle of beer (both full). He was then served a salad, a main course and an appetizer (all at the same time). The ideas being thrown around the table between my friends and I were as such:
"Maybe he's reviewing the restaurant."
"Maybe his wife died and this is where they came to eat all the time."
"Maybe he's just really alone."
"Maybe he got stood up."
and the ideas continued, of course while Todd and Jenny finished up their first date.
My friend then, wrote his number on the tip for the waitress. We told him that he wasn't only leaving his number for her, but for everyone else who will ever get that dollar bill. He didn't care.
P.S. The chicken quesadillas and fajitas are to die for.
P.P.S. You will reek of mexican food once you leave the place.
I give it a two thumbs up.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
sentences for 2/16
A mistake loaded young man who wanted to do anything to make things okay. A stubborn mother who knew it was bullshit and wanted absolutely nothing to do with the apologies.
Monday, February 15, 2010
workshop B for 2/16
This kiss, unfinished
Seeming certain at that moment
As certain as the blanket
Intertwined within our bodies.
As certain as the socks
And pants on the ground.
This kiss, unfinished
And most certainly uncertain
As uncertain as her hair band
Still on your wrist
And uncertain as her picture
On your phone.
This unfinished kiss
Is finished.
-Ashley grabowski
Seeming certain at that moment
As certain as the blanket
Intertwined within our bodies.
As certain as the socks
And pants on the ground.
This kiss, unfinished
And most certainly uncertain
As uncertain as her hair band
Still on your wrist
And uncertain as her picture
On your phone.
This unfinished kiss
Is finished.
-Ashley grabowski
Thursday, February 11, 2010
writing poetry for 2/10
Writing poetry can be about pickles,
because those pickles
could have more meaning than
a halmark filled with cliches.
The alternative to display some thoughts.
In different shapes, different styles and forms.
For the record, pickles mean
absolutely nothing to me.
Another poet's link:
http://www.poetry-archive.com/w/to_a_stranger.html
because those pickles
could have more meaning than
a halmark filled with cliches.
The alternative to display some thoughts.
In different shapes, different styles and forms.
For the record, pickles mean
absolutely nothing to me.
Another poet's link:
http://www.poetry-archive.com/w/to_a_stranger.html
Sunday, February 7, 2010
noun phrase loaded 2/8
"I got a twenty-dollar bill that says no one's ever seen you without makeup, you're always made up...And I'm sick of your tattoos,
and the way you always criticize the Smiths... and Morrissey."
A line from a song by Brand New (If this isn't aloud, please let me know)
"She placed her water bottle near the computer and a slamming of the door startled her, causing her to knock the water all over her keyboard."
^mine
and the way you always criticize the Smiths... and Morrissey."
A line from a song by Brand New (If this isn't aloud, please let me know)
"She placed her water bottle near the computer and a slamming of the door startled her, causing her to knock the water all over her keyboard."
^mine
86'd
Being underage; scoring some alcohol is barely ever a problem, for anyone. From fake i.d.'s to just getting served anyway, or having friends that are 21+ it's just a simple process. However, what I recently learned (the hard way) was that trying to drink at clubs in the city is an atrocious idea. Especially when one of your good friends is hosting the event.
Typically when I come home from school on the weekend, you'll find me hanging out in New brunswick with the same group of friends and if not there, then Ewing (besides the point). Anyway, this past weekend, my friend CM (I'll use initials for privacy purposes) was hired to host a party in the bottom level of Webster Hall (called Trash) in NYC. I was supposed to drive there with CM and friends MG, SJ, and NB. So once I arrived in New Brunswick at MG's place, we pre-gamed a little bit and once SJ got there, we all drove to CM's house and then he drove me, the girls (SJ and MG), and NB to the club.
It started off like this.
Me - "MG, can you pee with me when we get there?"
MG - "Of course, I have to go too"
Me - "CM, how far are we from the club?"
CM - "Idk, 5-10 minutes?"
I was starting to feel hopeless for my pee staying inside of my bladder.
Me - "I don't think i'm going to be able to hold it. It hurts. I might pee on the seat."
MG - "Dude i'll cut open a bottle or something if you want?"
Me - "CM, please, pull over anywhere possible. This is unbearable."
I could tell he was annoyed because he was already stressing out about making it there on time. The sensation of piss knocking at my flood gates left me to not care at this point. And finally (even though we were literally two minutes away) NB spoke up and saved me from peeing on SJ's backseat.
NB - "Quick, get out. We'll run across to that bar and they'll just pull the car over there once the light changes!"
So thankfully, he accompanied me in running across the street so that I could relieve myself in the bathroom of some random bar that luckily, when we entered, the door man was occupied and we didn't have to deal with explaining my emergency urine situation. After this ordeal, we get back in the car and finally arrive to Webster's. In entering, we didn't have to pay since we were with CM, however each of MG's, SJ's and my hands were marked with two big permanent marker x's to indicate that we were "underage." Womp, womp. So, naturally, the first thing MG and I did was hit the bathroom and remove the evil ink.
Anyway, once out of the bathroom, NB was kind enough to buy a beer for me. This one was finished successfully. Round 2...not so successful.
Big mean douche bag bouncer - "Excuse me can I see your I.D.?"
(Before being asked this I had just gotten rid of the can I was holding)
Me - "Yeah sure, here."
BMDBB - "You're not supposed to be drinking, you have to leave."
Me - "I'm not though, do you see me with a drink?"
BMDBB - "Do you think i'm fucking stupid? I saw you. You have to go. Give your coat check tickets to your friend."
I was given the boot. Outside, in the cold in a small black dress and pink leggings.
BMDBB - "Why'd you have to be such an idiot? Give me your hands."
86'd. This asshole drew two huge permanent 86's on my hands. COOL.
Almost immediately after being escorted outside, CM came out and gave me all of the instructions I needed in order to get back inside. And then my other friend, PM.. kept me company and made sure everything went smoothly. So we walked to SJ's car and the first thing I did was remove my pink leggings because BMDBB referred to me as "girl in the black dress and pink stockings". My dress was long enough anyway, and to completely change my outfit, I found a button down shirt and leather jacket in the trunk to put over my black dress and to top it off I tied back my hair. Once operation identity switch was complete, PM walked me to a burger place across the street so that I could scrub the hell out of those damn 86's. To my advantage, there was a bottle of windex in the bathroom and even with that, soap, water and toilet paper... I couldn't get them off. So I call for PM to help me.
Me - "They wont get off."
PM - "Want me to come in and help?"
Me - "Yes, PLEASE."
So he comes into the bathroom and at this point you know exactly what the guys working there are thinking.
PM - "Alright, I'm going to use my shirt, and i'm going to scrub as hard as I fucking can. Try to bear with me"
Me - "I don't care just get it offffffff."
I closed my eyes and cringed while he basically scrubbed the top layers of skin off of my hands and all the while, the men who worked there kept knocking at the door.
PM - "ONE MINUTE WE'RE POOPING IN HERE"
And once the marker was finally off, we got out, gave the guys a few bucks and booked.
Final stage: Go through the side entrance rather then the front which is where I had previously entered. So i separate from PM and he tells me to call as soon as I get in, or get rejected. In approaching the alternate entrance, I was praying to myself that BMDBB wasn't anywhere in sight, and luckily, he was not. Just three huge 6ft tall (and taller) bouncers with intimidating surface piercings along their cheek bones were manning the door. I thought to myself, "...as soon as I get to the door I'm going to tell that bouncer how much I admire his face piercings and flash him a cute smile."
While handing him my I.D. and smiling I say "Dude, I absolutely love that piercing!"
Piercing man - I NEED A STATE I.D.
Me - What?
He rudely handed me back my I.D. and I realized that I accidentally handed him my school I.D. Quickly I grab my license and I was given my final markings of the night. X on the left, X on the right. I was in.
Success. I never thought I'd be happy to see those X's again.
And so for the remainder of the night I danced my face off and had the time of my life. All was well worth it and the moral of this story is to never wash your hands with windex. It makes them very itchy ;)
"There's nothing you can't do, Now you're in New York."
Typically when I come home from school on the weekend, you'll find me hanging out in New brunswick with the same group of friends and if not there, then Ewing (besides the point). Anyway, this past weekend, my friend CM (I'll use initials for privacy purposes) was hired to host a party in the bottom level of Webster Hall (called Trash) in NYC. I was supposed to drive there with CM and friends MG, SJ, and NB. So once I arrived in New Brunswick at MG's place, we pre-gamed a little bit and once SJ got there, we all drove to CM's house and then he drove me, the girls (SJ and MG), and NB to the club.
It started off like this.
Me - "MG, can you pee with me when we get there?"
MG - "Of course, I have to go too"
Me - "CM, how far are we from the club?"
CM - "Idk, 5-10 minutes?"
I was starting to feel hopeless for my pee staying inside of my bladder.
Me - "I don't think i'm going to be able to hold it. It hurts. I might pee on the seat."
MG - "Dude i'll cut open a bottle or something if you want?"
Me - "CM, please, pull over anywhere possible. This is unbearable."
I could tell he was annoyed because he was already stressing out about making it there on time. The sensation of piss knocking at my flood gates left me to not care at this point. And finally (even though we were literally two minutes away) NB spoke up and saved me from peeing on SJ's backseat.
NB - "Quick, get out. We'll run across to that bar and they'll just pull the car over there once the light changes!"
So thankfully, he accompanied me in running across the street so that I could relieve myself in the bathroom of some random bar that luckily, when we entered, the door man was occupied and we didn't have to deal with explaining my emergency urine situation. After this ordeal, we get back in the car and finally arrive to Webster's. In entering, we didn't have to pay since we were with CM, however each of MG's, SJ's and my hands were marked with two big permanent marker x's to indicate that we were "underage." Womp, womp. So, naturally, the first thing MG and I did was hit the bathroom and remove the evil ink.
Anyway, once out of the bathroom, NB was kind enough to buy a beer for me. This one was finished successfully. Round 2...not so successful.
Big mean douche bag bouncer - "Excuse me can I see your I.D.?"
(Before being asked this I had just gotten rid of the can I was holding)
Me - "Yeah sure, here."
BMDBB - "You're not supposed to be drinking, you have to leave."
Me - "I'm not though, do you see me with a drink?"
BMDBB - "Do you think i'm fucking stupid? I saw you. You have to go. Give your coat check tickets to your friend."
I was given the boot. Outside, in the cold in a small black dress and pink leggings.
BMDBB - "Why'd you have to be such an idiot? Give me your hands."
86'd. This asshole drew two huge permanent 86's on my hands. COOL.
Almost immediately after being escorted outside, CM came out and gave me all of the instructions I needed in order to get back inside. And then my other friend, PM.. kept me company and made sure everything went smoothly. So we walked to SJ's car and the first thing I did was remove my pink leggings because BMDBB referred to me as "girl in the black dress and pink stockings". My dress was long enough anyway, and to completely change my outfit, I found a button down shirt and leather jacket in the trunk to put over my black dress and to top it off I tied back my hair. Once operation identity switch was complete, PM walked me to a burger place across the street so that I could scrub the hell out of those damn 86's. To my advantage, there was a bottle of windex in the bathroom and even with that, soap, water and toilet paper... I couldn't get them off. So I call for PM to help me.
Me - "They wont get off."
PM - "Want me to come in and help?"
Me - "Yes, PLEASE."
So he comes into the bathroom and at this point you know exactly what the guys working there are thinking.
PM - "Alright, I'm going to use my shirt, and i'm going to scrub as hard as I fucking can. Try to bear with me"
Me - "I don't care just get it offffffff."
I closed my eyes and cringed while he basically scrubbed the top layers of skin off of my hands and all the while, the men who worked there kept knocking at the door.
PM - "ONE MINUTE WE'RE POOPING IN HERE"
And once the marker was finally off, we got out, gave the guys a few bucks and booked.
Final stage: Go through the side entrance rather then the front which is where I had previously entered. So i separate from PM and he tells me to call as soon as I get in, or get rejected. In approaching the alternate entrance, I was praying to myself that BMDBB wasn't anywhere in sight, and luckily, he was not. Just three huge 6ft tall (and taller) bouncers with intimidating surface piercings along their cheek bones were manning the door. I thought to myself, "...as soon as I get to the door I'm going to tell that bouncer how much I admire his face piercings and flash him a cute smile."
While handing him my I.D. and smiling I say "Dude, I absolutely love that piercing!"
Piercing man - I NEED A STATE I.D.
Me - What?
He rudely handed me back my I.D. and I realized that I accidentally handed him my school I.D. Quickly I grab my license and I was given my final markings of the night. X on the left, X on the right. I was in.
Success. I never thought I'd be happy to see those X's again.
And so for the remainder of the night I danced my face off and had the time of my life. All was well worth it and the moral of this story is to never wash your hands with windex. It makes them very itchy ;)
"There's nothing you can't do, Now you're in New York."
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
tucker max and Matthew Dickman
http://www.tuckermax.com/
^this is the main link
http://www.tuckermax.com/archives/entries/date/the_famous_sushi_pants_story.phtml#277
"1:24: I can't find my pants. My breathalyzer is in clear sight. I blow. A .23. Someone informs me that my challenger just blew a .26. They add that he hasn't thrown up yet. I tell them to "kiss my fucking ass." My last clear memory.
8:15am: I wake up. I don't know where I am. It is very hot. I am sweating horribly. It smells like rotting flesh.
8:16: I am in my car. With the windows up. The sun is beating down directly on me. It is at least 125 degrees in my car. I open the door and try to get out, but instead I fall onto the pavement. The scabs that cover my legs tear and reopen as I move. My penis falls out of my pink Gap boxers and lands, along with the rest of me, in a dirty puddle on the asphalt.
8:19: The fetid standing water finally propels me into full consciousness. I can't find my pants. Or cell phone. Or wallet. But I do have my breathalyzer. I blow. A .09. I am still not eligible to drive in the state of Florida.
8:22: I drive home anyway."
^and this is a sample of what Tucker Max is all about.
This is the type of guy girls would typically despise. The type of guy that I, personally would never involve myself with sexually/intimately (in fear of STD's or other rare diseases)...however, this didn't stop me from reading or laughing out loud in response to every story. They're the types of stories that you just can't make up. Check it out, and definitely read the book titled "I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell."
A poem by Matthew Dickman, suggested by a very good friend of mine.
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/slow-dance-7/
^this is the main link
http://www.tuckermax.com/archives/entries/date/the_famous_sushi_pants_story.phtml#277
"1:24: I can't find my pants. My breathalyzer is in clear sight. I blow. A .23. Someone informs me that my challenger just blew a .26. They add that he hasn't thrown up yet. I tell them to "kiss my fucking ass." My last clear memory.
8:15am: I wake up. I don't know where I am. It is very hot. I am sweating horribly. It smells like rotting flesh.
8:16: I am in my car. With the windows up. The sun is beating down directly on me. It is at least 125 degrees in my car. I open the door and try to get out, but instead I fall onto the pavement. The scabs that cover my legs tear and reopen as I move. My penis falls out of my pink Gap boxers and lands, along with the rest of me, in a dirty puddle on the asphalt.
8:19: The fetid standing water finally propels me into full consciousness. I can't find my pants. Or cell phone. Or wallet. But I do have my breathalyzer. I blow. A .09. I am still not eligible to drive in the state of Florida.
8:22: I drive home anyway."
^and this is a sample of what Tucker Max is all about.
This is the type of guy girls would typically despise. The type of guy that I, personally would never involve myself with sexually/intimately (in fear of STD's or other rare diseases)...however, this didn't stop me from reading or laughing out loud in response to every story. They're the types of stories that you just can't make up. Check it out, and definitely read the book titled "I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell."
A poem by Matthew Dickman, suggested by a very good friend of mine.
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/slow-dance-7/
Monday, January 25, 2010
It's okay to pee in the shower.
Whether or not one has recognized it, I believe that everyone has their own particular set of rules to live by. A handful of rules that apply, if you wish to live as me are as such. First and foremost:
1. Please refrain from wasting your money to paint yourself with cancer, or in other terms: Don't go tanning. It isn't okay to look orange during the winter when you live in New Jersey, plus you're only asking for wrinkles at the age of 40. What I do find acceptable while being at a ripe age of 19 is:
2. ...letting yourself do the things that you won't necessarily be able to do when you're out of college, with a job and possibly a parent. What i'm saying is, drink till you puke every once in a while. Eat massive amounts of food after a crazy night with your friends at 4 a.m. and hell, go out and get your lip pierced because you know that your parents will absolutely resent it.
3. Wear black when you know that you'll have pit stains the size of California.
4. PEE IN THE SHOWER. It's okay. It just goes down the drain with the soap, water and other dirty shit coming off of your body and head.
5. Wear socks with your shoes otherwise your feet will smell of roadkill.
6. Make life a little easier for your younger siblings by talking your parents into letting them do what they'd never let you do when you were that age.
7. Stay in shape.
8. Write your thoughts down. Keep them or throw them away, but write. Writing can take people's minds away from reality. I also believe that writing can hit people in the face with reality. I know that writing is whatever you make it to be which is why it is so intriguing, refreshing and therapeutic. Just write, don't second guess. The process of your thoughts hitting the paper should be timeless. Write(right) now and think...later.
9. Don't be afraid to love (again). "The greatest thing you'll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return." -Moulin Rouge
10. Be incredibly, super, crazily careful with who you trust.
1. Please refrain from wasting your money to paint yourself with cancer, or in other terms: Don't go tanning. It isn't okay to look orange during the winter when you live in New Jersey, plus you're only asking for wrinkles at the age of 40. What I do find acceptable while being at a ripe age of 19 is:
2. ...letting yourself do the things that you won't necessarily be able to do when you're out of college, with a job and possibly a parent. What i'm saying is, drink till you puke every once in a while. Eat massive amounts of food after a crazy night with your friends at 4 a.m. and hell, go out and get your lip pierced because you know that your parents will absolutely resent it.
3. Wear black when you know that you'll have pit stains the size of California.
4. PEE IN THE SHOWER. It's okay. It just goes down the drain with the soap, water and other dirty shit coming off of your body and head.
5. Wear socks with your shoes otherwise your feet will smell of roadkill.
6. Make life a little easier for your younger siblings by talking your parents into letting them do what they'd never let you do when you were that age.
7. Stay in shape.
8. Write your thoughts down. Keep them or throw them away, but write. Writing can take people's minds away from reality. I also believe that writing can hit people in the face with reality. I know that writing is whatever you make it to be which is why it is so intriguing, refreshing and therapeutic. Just write, don't second guess. The process of your thoughts hitting the paper should be timeless. Write(right) now and think...later.
9. Don't be afraid to love (again). "The greatest thing you'll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return." -Moulin Rouge
10. Be incredibly, super, crazily careful with who you trust.
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