Yoko Ono & John Lennon
I knew it, it was on the very fringes of my brain, tip of my tongue. Arguably greatest love of all.
So anyhow, relatedly and unrelatedly, my (late) lack of existentialism fueled a scrumptious conversation whether I should further this to a true state of Zen. Oh laugh, if you want, my friends, wait til I'm smiling (while jaywalking) at motorists who roll down their window to regale me with pleasant "Fuck you"s, and I'm serenely blessing the person in front of me in the Brueger's queue who got the last plain bagel & cream cheese with all the sublime delights of Mother Nature.
As luck (fate/Buddha etc.) had it, Skylar did her Crit. piece on Ono's Grapefruit in lecture today, and the cogwheels of my brain snapped in delicious synchronity. I know what you're thinking..but c'mon, it'll be fun, don't you reckon?

Today's edition:

CLOUD PIECE
Imagine the clouds dripping.
Dig a hole in your garden to put them in.
1963 Spring

Here we go!

Existentialism seems, lately, to be completely missing from spectrum of emotion. Which is such a good, good thing. Precious few times in my life has existential angst been entirely missing from emotional range. Doesn't cancel out the requisite puzzlement, confusion, inevitable lows proceeding glorious highs - but at this point I have no beef with life itself. Hallefuckinglujah.

Jake's most recent purchase on my behalf has been Grado headphones. Up until now I've stuck stubbornly and unabashedly to the mainstream appeal of Apple plus all its unrepentant capitalist jacked-up range of accompanying accessories. Brainless homogenization of popular style? Where do I sign up? But I have to admit Grado is sex in soundwaves. Earlier tonight I was sitting on the roof with them amped up to maximum listening to Alina-recommended Yiruma and attempting to get in touch with my chi/inner peace (hoho). I'd since forgotten what it's like to completely mute out surrounding sound. Consequently I re-discovered the joys of being taken by surprise by all other senses excluding that of hearing. Note, it was a whopping 6 under outside today. When the wind hit me I was caught unawares - it's seldom that you can't hear it approaching through the rustle of leaves. The laughter bubbled out from some well-hidden spring, I laughed, and laughed, and saw Skylar laughing with me from the other side of the window while we scared off the poor startled bluejays from her birdfeeder. They didn't have the luxury of Grado 60's.

It's 2 in the morning I should start wording my thesis on US intervention in Iraq. Funny how you can be glowing with purpose even with a deadline looming in hours. The optimists weren't lying - it makes a difference when you care

FAT FACE



I Aspire To Be A Fat Boy/Squirrel
Stuff my cheeks all day. Chubs, Up Up and Away!

Disproportionate, lor. Jeans still stuck unhappily at 26, but at least after Thanksgiving my face is nice and fat. I want very much to be peachy, rather juicy, and my hair to go two shades blacker. I think I can, I think I can.

Racin' through the last essays, we're on a roll!
JUICE JUICE JUICE
Coherence is a fleeting visitor who eats too much (of my) food while he's here, so he got banished
MMMMMKAY, bye

Out of words, today

WE'RE BAAAAACK
I gave the K'millionaire's hand a head. Scribbling was my passive-aggressive stab at slender hands/fingers that I Will Never Have.
New York left us recharged. And the upperclassmen weren't joking when they warned that after Thanksgiving the days go (snap!), just like that. Will be home free before I know it.
Last day in NYC Pau took me shopping 'round Union Square market and we picked up several brown paper bags full of house-beautifiers. I have much more space to work with than her (read: closet-sized NYU dorms, poor girl) so I ended up with proportionately more...er, stuff. Bought a sack of Japanese paper-ish spheres that you fit over those strings of ordinary Christmas fairy lights. The effect is gorgeous. Picture red, orange, yellow glowing baubles strewn all over the porch. I bought them because they so uncannily mirror the autumn leaves that are (mysteriously, since Skylar and I conscientiously rake them up twice a week) piled all down the Roselawn drive.

I met up with Vicky, we went to Jonjay/Carlshutz Park where we used to go after school back when I still went to Brearley. Re-lived the squealing on the roller slides and grabbing each other's fingers so they wouldn't get caught in the metal rollers. Stealing experiences back from Time's jumbled sack always pays off because you feel like you're in a parallel universe. Except now the pretzels never look quite as big as they did when we were five, they'll never be twice as big as our faces again. I think the winner for Thanksgiving was when we were walking aimlessly in Soho and we came across an East Village artist with his wares propped up by the roadside and we each bought a photograph of a moving van with "I Love You" spray painted in red on its side. He told us he saw it parked on 71st one day and he ran back to his apartment and grabbed his camera just in time to catch it when it was driving away. It's on my window sill now. Little piece of New York and transient childhood friendships. Talk about Christmas coming early.

My head and heart are so full I don't think I'll get much sleep tonight. Which is inconsequential because I'm taking my one-week freebie on my Contribution Paper due in class tomorrow. Seven more days to mull and procrastinate and (hopefully) come up with something genius to keep my GPA right up there.

I think tomorrow I'll get whoever feels up to it to cut my fringe again. Any takers?

This one's specially for my chica Lynn V - too fab to forget
I loved the pictures, laughed out loud when I saw them.
Meet Lynn; ladies and gents, this is how you do fabulous





Girl who borrows more than she actually needs for a shoot. I Know Where Those Clothes Go.
Fall'08 and Soho awaits you, love, be good and stop terrorizing people til then
Now don't you dare say I forgot you. This is Homage to the Oldest Homie. xxx

Am back in NY. Pau's room is small, grotty and hovel-ish enough to live up to most urban legends about NYU dorms, But the heater works and the food is hot. Which is all you need, really, when it's Thanksgiving and 3 degrees outside. The lights are all up on Broadway, and the gawk-worthy window displays in Saks and Barney's, and the electric lights twisted up in the trees that make the grittiest Manhattan streets look like a Winter (Fall) wonderland. And, as always, New York working women in their trenches and car coats holding their smart pumps in hand and running for the subway in their Nikes. I always wanted to be one of those NY women dashing in the spiffiest clothes with practical sneakers on and good shoes in hand. Stop at the revolving doors, slip sneakers neatly into shoe bag and stalk in immaculately without a hair out of place.

Just got back from Japanese in Noho; if poor students aren't going to splurge on Thanksgiving, then when would we?
Jessica's getting into town tomorrow morning, in time for the Macy's parade.
This season's shaping up to be gorgeous.
And, did I mention the forecast spells snow?

xxx, Shu

The impulse comes;
And so, I extend my thank-you's. Note that this list is purely instinctual, non-exhaustive.

XL, for unwavering taste and always being hungry.
Wen Zhe, for being blood
Dave, for being the thickest of water
Bert, for hilarity
Joel, for clarity & unfailing sweetness
Jake, for screaming neon nights and being Cooler Than Everyfrickinone Else (!!)
Alex, for doubtful substances
Winny, for comfort
Shing, for a steady pair of hands, and atrocious rudeness
Lauren, for always being a sight for sore eyes
Jim, for letting me live vicariously through your mad style
Cal, for being SoCal's biggest Azn Badass outside, and my Waffletown bus stop buddy inside
Bella, for once existing
Yudi, for being "Gosh dang" good to look at
Matt, for annoyingly french musings
Yanco, for simplicity
ZH, for driving, just driving (just kidding, too)
Lisa, for irregularity and infuriation
Nat, for constancy
Bala, for warmth
Lu, for cradle to hopskotch to present distance and always remembering
Ser, for what we used to have - lightning rhythm, telepathy
May Lin, for KABABOOM gorgeousness, in out and in between
JZ, for being impossible to get mad at
Sab, for being irreplaceable
Von, for uncannily life-saving timing
Sheryl S, for possibility and delicious shallowness
Tris, for The Quirks of Life, and screaming on bridges
Cand, for specific neediness
Alina, for being an incomparable sweetheart
Skylar, for talks on the roof and conspiracy
Joe, for substantial size of shoulder
Korean Dan, (hi Dan!) for consistent cheer and just being rather cute
Tiny Timi, for being larger than life
Lane, for surprising re-appearances
Eli, for efforts and chocolates
Earn'a'chen, for never forgetting; fam for good.
Big Al, for never forgetting; fam for good.
Anderinoes, for never forgetting; fam for good.
Stefoo, for never forgetting; fam for good.
Has-it-easy, for never forgetting; fam for good.
ZY, for never forgetting; fam for good.
Mark, for being the only person who still dares pinch my cheeks
Nigel, for it's been a long time coming.
Liz, for the girl I once knew
Wayne "Thunder", just for once living&breathing.
Jane, for visiting briefly in dreams, as promised.
Weiyi, for first teaching me the joys of mud & balls.
Rad, for first teaching me the discipline involved in mud & balls.
Rachel, for showing me what adrenaline feels like.
Erik, for madtastic entertainment
Syed, for the levity.
Ngak, for the music; "We'll always have the music"
Jess, for always missing me more
Eepo, for holding on for me
K'millionaire, for electricity & hope
Bran, for being the one I could never doubt.

Cleveland in the morning.
To Bran and Joel; I'll be home before you know it, it's just tomorrow and a wink away.

Lahdeedum, Lauren's finishing up her EcoArt project and I'm...festering gloriously in unproductivity. Stoning, lor. But contentedly, mind you. No one's complaining about no work to do here, no sir.

Michaels, indeed. No prizes for guessing.
Incidentally, Michaelson is amazing too. Ingrid Michaelson. Was enraptured at her small close-door gig at CFA. Pays to have housemates like Alina; this is payback for all the nights my head is swimming with her chandelier-shattering soprano notes wafting up from the basement. (The darling girl thinks that by retreating to the dank depths of Down Below she saves us from having to hear her sing the same passage over sixteen times. I don't have the heart to tell her that by now I can sing Greensleeves in my sleep.) Anyhow, back to Michaelson. It's a lilting, unpretentious sound aesthetic you don't hear very often now. I like watching performers who are so obviously comfortable in their skin - that's when the razzle and the dazzle start to shimmer 'round the periphery. No artificial lighting coordination needed, thank you very much. One day I will have the guts to take Kwezi up on that offer to match some chords to some lyrics. Til then I'm shamelessly self-conscious (haha, oxymoron) of my words. So sue me.

Recording session #2 tomorrow night, and then we're loading up the car again. Cleveland here we come.
and then New York, New York.
then, rounding up what I hope will be a stellar first semester.
and then, to Medicine Tree, where she waits for me.

I thought "pretty good" tickets meant somewhere in the visual range of the front of the stage (God Bless those poor desperate people who paid 200 dollars to stare at Springsteen's butt)
I didn't count on the whole works. Kim, I don't think I've actually been in box seats before. Ever.

Did I say "Thankyouyou'refuckingamazing", already? Or did it slip my mind.

I just registered for Spring courses. After much pushing and pulling from various authorities (and self-proclaimed authorities i.e. Timi, Jake) I think my Spring Sem looks pretty decent. I've got Art in Context, Survey of Forms:Poetry, Major Works of Modern Fiction, History of Central American Architecture, aand..alas, Stastistical Reasoning&Practice. Apparently that last one's a requirement for all freshmen, so I figured I'd just take it early and get it done with. Couldn't weasel my way into Revolutions of Circularity, apparently the Seniors got first dibs on places yesterday so it was all maxed out, complete with 40 strong waitlist. You win some, you lose some.

Back to Manhattan in 5 days. There's a particular warmth at Thanksgiving, always; I can picture sitting 'round Pau's makeshift table at NYU with the whole motley crew listening to Bert make raucous toasts with eggnog/KMart wine in paper cups. Can't wait to whack that boy - Cayenne? Cayenne your mother la. You think you all balla' and shit now, right, SoCal Azn Boi. Watch it ah don't cross the line. (Love you still)

We did a couple of dry runs of Charlie Brown Pathetic Christmas Trees. So far, so good, they look more authentic than the real thing. (Haha, Shaun I know you're laughing here, that crack was just for you.) Me and K went 'round Roselawn putting one on everyone's front steps. The Sophomores at No.7 thought it was a twig and swept it on the drive. No sense of artistic appreciation. Boys. At least everyone at Rockin' Roselawn loves it. Skylar wants a personalized one in every room. Hear that, K? We should be getting some cash out of this. You'd be a legit. Kimillionaire in no time.

After Springsteen yesterday (while I was still in a state of rapture) ZH drove round to Alden to see the PNP i.e. Prospective New Place. Suffices to say that there are no complaints. I still love the white Ando-style one in Shadyside, but this one's pretty phenomenal too. Plus the hike to school isn't such a bitch. If all works out we'll be two girls, one boy, a loft, one Saab and one Wrangler/Hummer/Land Rover (choices, choices!) happily nestled in Squirrel Hill. There's a balcony and one ceiling-to-floor wall of shelves plus easels for me, a small basement complete with cutting boards for Winny, and ZH gets the kitchen of his dreams/ the covered garage that he's so anal-retentive about. Like two guys, a girl and a pizza place - only better. Likely it smells nicer, too.

"Important lessons: Look carefully, record what you see.
Find a way to make beauty necessary; find a way to make necessity beautiful."

What is the greatest love story ever told?
Shakespeare and his elusive real-life Juliet? Henry and Clare, in multiple time zones? Or Dora Maar and Picasso, perhaps.
Love was, before anything was, faded floral handkerchiefs smelling like talc, and a kitchen full of the steam from chicken porridge, Canto-style. It was a work-weathered hand clasped around the chubbiness of mine, on the handle of an old wooden spoon.

Love is when she struggles to sit up in bed to listen to my voice;
Love is when she tries to make the words come, and they won't.

Sit there under medicine tree,
Wait for me.

On a separate note (because there is no lightness in this limbo),
Zhi Hao's taking me to Springsteen tomorrow, because K can't anymore.
There's the rapture of a real live Secret Garden rendition lost (I am almost certain it'll be lost on ZH (haha)), but it's okay, I'll take a secret illegit. video
(There's always Bon Jovi in the summer)
And I still can't get over it that I'll be within feet (trying to break myself of the metric system) of the human being whose music got me through..well, you don't want to know
So thank you, again, Kimillionaire. One in a million, you.
(I will pay you for these tickets, don't even think of saying no)

I've installed that Weather Forecast-thingamajig on my Mac because it's just not funny going out in the morning in my rainboots and realizing the sun's blazing and people are barbecuing on the UC lawn. Ditto, for going out optimistically in just a sweater and having the 9am (fuck world history recitations, is anyone's brain even awake before 11?) wind go right through my bones. Right now it reads..-3 degrees. Jesus, the weather took us seriously when we prayed for the cold. It's still fall, for chrissake.

Yesterday it snowed for approximately 17 seconds and I couldn't resist sticking my head out of the window, and then sticking out my tongue.
I vaguely (clearly, haha) remember K stopping the car in the middle of Maggie Mo drive and yelling at everyone outside the food trucks, "Holla, heads up!" What a polaroid moment.

T-minus 27 hours and 57 minutes til Springsteen

Her heart ran out of summers

Save one more winter, for me.
And if you're looking for a clue,
I love you free

I love you free, under medicine tree.
Save one winter for me.

If I could choose a defining soundtrack of my life, this would be the title track; the first, last, and in between.
Setting aside all the sophisticated tunes of our generation, all the Iron&Wine, Rilo Kiley, Mando Diao, Spinto Band that I love so much.
This song is yesterday, tomorrow, today - it is this moment, it is two years ago, three seconds into the future.
And today I found two tickets slotted in the Roselawn mailbox. Neat white envelope with my name on it. Enclosed post-it very gruffly reads, "One is for me, kid."
Wednesday I am watching Springsteen.
In the flesh. Bruce Springsteen live, Mellon Arena.
It is still difficult to comprehend that others can comprehend my naive, somewhat stubborn belief that music can heal the soul; thank you does not suffice.

No more blogging (really) tonight, I am going to sit on my bed and practice tuning out surrounding noise - Wednesday, when he sings this song, I don't want to hear anything else.

I'm finding it increasingly hard to type prose (or any text, for that matter) in lowercase. Prof. Chang is having a good effect on me; "Do not un-emphasize letters which emphasize words which should be emphasized." Hear, hear.

Feed your ears, kids. The new Saul Williams album, The Inevitable Rise and Liberation of Niggy Tardust, which was produced by Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails. I promise you (hear ye, XL, i Promise you) you might die, and go to heaven.
Heaven where everyone wears plastic chains/neon, shoots stars in their veins and has stars in their eyes, and where "Other" is only used in the context of "pass me that other marker" . Perpetuate true individuality.

"The wall of sound that we've created is tagged with such graffiti that a passerby would seek out doors and ways to ENTER. Once inside a world defined by dreams come true they'd find aligned with the simplest act of sharing what we treasure. Most people aren't aware of the world of art and commerce where exploitation strips each artist down to nigger. Each label, like apartheid, multiplies us by our divide and whips us 'til we conform to lesser figures. What falls between the cracks is a pile of records stacked to the heights of talents hidden from the sun. Yet the energy they put into popularizing smut makes a star of a shiny polished gun. The ballot or the bullet for Mohawk or the mullet is a choice between new times and dying days. And the only way to choose is to jump ship from old truths and trust dolphins as we swim through changing ways. The ways of middlemen proves to be just a passing trend. We need no priests to talk to God. No phone to call her."

No phone to call her. Did someone say "fuck patriarchal/white hegemony" ? I heard it.

Heading to Whole Foods soon for dinner. Ginger Lemon TD, here I come.
Dave, aforementioned jamming session was out of this world. I stuck to my guns like you said; Don't Speak revival. Sending the first recording by express mail (HARD copy, no cyber-files), watch that mailbox.

You sit under medicine tree, and I am with you with your blue-veined hand in mine.
Don't go yet, I'll turn you over, change your sheets, hang a cross-stitch by your bed.
So begins a countdown,

xoxo, Shu

fragility of the spirit can translate into fragility of the body - even not your own
so i will, as Shaun so often said, "suck it up (,Recruit!)"
hoping that the No Vacancy sign next to the pearly gates is up and blazing.
but i have to say, i am exhausted. in a way that i've never been before.
these nights, all my thoughts and all the paraphernelia in my life converges at one spot, in one pair of hands.
this is called remembering; i will not say regretting, because that entails some sort of finality. i'm not going to say goodbye.

funny how i always used to yell at/accuse/tease the homies for having lost their marbles
right now they are keeping my marbles in place
the Unchangeables; homies plus a few - Lise, Nat, Nat, Dave, Joel, Trist, Bert, Shaun, May, Sab, Jz, Von.
because you know how with me, things must go and stay underground. thank you.

as a teaser for (hopefully, once i feel more..energetic) documentation of The Adventures of Timi and Kim:
T (to imaginary person) : "Oh hey, you go to RISD? That's awesome. I go to RI-GO-ROUS. We believe in RI-GOR. Say, RI-GO-ROUS, uh-huh say, say, RI-GO-ROUS"
K: (silence)
T: Go Rigor, Go Rigor, Go, go, go Rigor, Go Rig -
K: WHERE THE FUCK ARE THE FUCKING CHEETOS IS IT SO HARD TO GET FUCKING CHEETOS IN THIS FUCKING PLACE
T: (calmly) Here you go, Cheetos, no need to shout. Rigorous University caters to all your dining needs. Did you know that studies at Rigorous University show that Wheat Thins better complement your brain functions?
Me: (crying by this point)
K: I'll show you rigorous.



xoxo (now you know what it means, Jo-el)
Shu

don't go yet; i'm not ready.
i don't know how else to put it.
please stay.

please please please stay.

dancing, shoes optional - old favourites, and let's throw in a new one just for good measure
it's november
when you dance in the dark, with autumn leaves and all the world at your feet