Welcome To My Bed



One of the new favorite in heavy heavy rotation. I am heavily debating whether or not to buy it on vinyl. Although it seems a little pointless because I still don't have a record player. And my small record collection would confuse anyone trying to know me by the things I choose to physically procure. Pat Benatar, Blackmoth Super Rainbow and The Octopus Project, DJ Shadow, Jawbreaker, Traffic and some Madonna thrown in for good measure. You would think I was a hipster. I guess I just have strange taste in records. Anyway, like I said, thoroughly digging Fucked Up Friends. Definitely check it out if you like awesome noises. Or just awesome things in general.

Perfectly silent at the bottom of the world.


All the way back to New Jersey by way of Redding, CT, a two day road trip with a sleepless layover, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with my teeth. I mean, look at them. They are too healthy. No cavities, no infections, no problems involving wisdom. I probably just clench my jaw in my sleep. Perfect. I even have an extra one, what looks like a baby tooth without roots that is growing out of my jawbone. It has enamel and everything, but stays hiding in my gums, stowing away in case of tooth emergency. I wish I had gotten a copy of the x-ray. I think I will paint a picture of it later. Teeth look so weird in x-rays. Their roots seem alien.

I got very good sloppy joes out of all of this. Also, a very nice, understated ham sandwich for lunch today. And I bought cigarettes legally for the first time ever in my home state. It was surreal. The cashier didn't even want to see my ID, just asked if I was older than nineteen, and when I said yes and started to show him my license, he told me he believed me and that it didn't matter. I felt very silly.

When we (James and I) got back on campus earlier this afternoon, I decided I need to rearrange my furniture. For the third time this year. I think it will most likely stay this way for a decent amount of time. I finally have a working TV, now all I need is a record player. Every time I got to Newbury Comics I am so tempted to buy more vinyl, but I know that all of it is pointless until I have something to play it on. Silly storage closet, gobbling up my way to experience good quality tunes.

I am going to be the UTZ potato chip girl for Halloween. I realized I accidentally have her haircut while driving behind an UTZ truck on I-91 today. Not that I really have a haircut at all, being that this is just my hair growing out from being barely a whisper on my scalp. I kind of miss being bald most days, but then it gets below freezing at night, and I'm riding my bike home, and I change my mind.

Thirty poems in thirty days has been successful so far. I must keep pushing through.

New month.

I was trying to ignore that yesterday was the first day of October, but it got to me anyway. I don't know what to do about the passage of time ever. Except write in my journals. However, today, with the passage of time, I plan on using many moments strung together in order to make a care package for my little brother. Usually, it works the other way around, and people send care packages to you at college. And even though I could use one right now, I am going to send him one. Because I want him to listen to good music and read good things and just generally become a person I have a lot in common with. Generally, this shouldn't be difficult. I have a lot of free time today that is vaguely tied up in other things. Two shifts at the reference desk is a bit much, but I think I can handle it. And if I hurry, I can take some pleasure in the extra feature that Slam Collective is putting on tonight, a special Thursday night event. I get out of work at the library around ten, and the reading allegedly end until eleven, so maybe. Just maybe.

My brain is swirling with pre-orders and paychecks. I am trying to figure out the safest way to send the bulk of my paycheck home on friday without the threat of it getting lost in the mail or stolen if it is just cash floating around. I think I'm going to a write a card and put it inside, just because that seems easiest and least conspicuous. Or maybe I'll send it locked up inside my brother's care package. I am very paranoid about such things.

I think the cause of my long-standing illness has something to do with neglected dental work. I haven't seen a dentist since probably before high school. Insurance is such an odd thing to try to wrap my head around.

We finished the first disk of the first season of Californication, and besides it being brilliant and hysterical/poignant/too good/everything I wish happened on TV, I can't help worrying that if James and I ever end up separate, he will be that person. It would kill me.

I need to get dressed and eat breakfast. It feels like the later I stay up, the earlier I wake up. Maybe the throbbing dull pain-like feeling that isn't quite pain in my jaw is making it difficult for me to sleep late. I don't mind it so much, I just don't want to owe anything to discomfort.

I want to go record shopping. And finish my novel. Instead, I will go to class today, and write a paper tonight while I am at work. I have no idea what the parameters are. All I know is that it's due tomorrow.

Fall Essentials

red zelnik

It hasn't been time for a list in awhile. But now is definitely the time. The leaves are starting to change. It is below forty degrees outside. I am sitting at the reference desk in the library waiting for someone to ask me about something. They won't. So let's enumerate the things I deem integral to the passage of the coming months.

1 - Movies that feel like fall.

2 - Ryan Adams' Love is Hell on vinyl.

It is impossible to find. There are only rumblings of it on the internets at large. I am very distraught. I want this album, I need this album. With the highest quality sound available. I ran my mp3's of it into the ground this summer, which is not even possible. But if it was, it would've happened.

3 - Dawson's Creek.

I don't care what anyone says. My sister just sent me season four for my birthday, and I could not be more excited to watch twenty-somethings pretend they are in high school. Yessss.

4 - Mountain climbs.

5 - NYC.

I miss Maggie, and she is all the way in Brooklyn. Plus New York in the fall is my favorite, hands down. Yes, I know I live in New England and we supposedly have the best foliage ever. But to me, there's nothing like a brisk walk down Bowery when it gets frosty out. Or a sidewalk table at Virage for french sandwiches and delicious conversation.

6 - 40s of Miller High Life.

Champagne of beers. Duh.

7 - Spliffs.

8 - Writing as much as humanly possible.

9 - That burger with apple chutney at Amherst Brewing Company.

10 - Photoquests when the leaves start changing.

11 - Bicycling at night.

The wind toothing its way through even my heaviest jacket does not deter me from loving every second of the ride to and from James's house.

12 - Sex. Obviously.

13 - Reading more than my brain can handle.

14 - Tins of Bali Shag.

15 - Free piercing at Lucky's for my birthday.

16 - New tattoo.

Depending on the money situation, this one may or may not make the cut. But I am keeping my fingers crossed. I am trying to be diabolical and am hoping to save the fifty dollars my grandparents gave me for my birthday to go towards one. Because I know how against it they are. And they never have to know what their money was spent on. But I'll know. And I'll smile about it all the time.

17 - Strong coffee, chai tea.

18 - Sending and receiving snail mail.

19 - Hampshire Halloween!!

20 - Making awful choices about the things I put into my body.

Save for the multi-vitamin and fish oil I take on a daily basis, the semester so far has been nothing but bad times for my body. Ramen, various illegal substances, among other things. But mostly I just haven't been eating very much at all. The reason this is an essential, is that the food in the dining hall here is nigh inedible. Being on the full meal plan without a kitchen at my disposal is situation very different from what I got used to last semester. That is to say, deciding when I ate and what I ate. Which made me want to eat. The dining hall is a fate worse than death. So I will stick to my Trader Joe's microwaveable noodle boxes and sesame crackers in the middle of the night. I am sure I can survive the winter this way. Absolutely sure.

Feel loved.


My shark brings everybody eternal happiness. Thank god for such things.

The ways that I have been spending my time cause me to lose huge chunks of the day that I might spend reading for class or getting to know the people on my hall. But I am content to lay around watching Hostel: Part II on blu-ray, because, to me, that is much more important than cleaning my room or reading a shit-ton of Shakespeare. I avoid parties, choosing instead to drink my 40's in the comfort of James's mod, where I can be sure that things will be fun. I have an unhealthy distrust for other people's attempts to entertain me lately.

Rearranging my furniture for the bulk of today has gotten the gears turning. I'm sure my room will be clean by the end of today, that I will probably get around to changing my sheets and making some coffee. Also, I will eat some of the delicious chicken salad I made yesterday in the only kitchen I currently have access to. It has tarragon and dried cranberries and is one of my favorite foods. Amid cooking lunch for myself for the next week (and also making dinner for myself and James), I submitting my 20 page piece to my fiction workshop. I will get feedback on Wednesday. In the meantime, I am going to continue scouring my room, making everything beautiful and aesthetically pleasing. All of my books are in size order, my records are alphabetized (I bought Jawbreaker's Dear You on Friday at Newbury Comics' 30th anniversary sale, and I am more in love than I was to begin with; loss-less sound!!!), my dishes are stacked, and I am fully prepared to finally finish something that I start. And then dive into my homework.

And to top it all off, it almost smells like fall.

Steam hiss.

Twenty pages on indelible inks in historical manuscripts and their preservation.

A book about the life and times of my life and times.

I worry that I procrastinate, I put off worrying to make more time for nothing.

I have begun the slow process of moving. I have been doing this for a month slowly but surely. We talk about mattresses on the floor, about a wall of books and records.

We went vinyl shopping yesterday afternoon and I bought my first two records, Traffic and Carole King. My father and my mother. I smiled listening to them later on, thinking about how we reinterpret where we come from and make it our own.

My New Jersey accent only comes out very rarely. I am in a place without colloquial speech, a college town that absorbs the dreams of the bright and ambitious and spits them back out with a focus. We come here to learn who we are, and some people lose sight of that along the way. But it's a lot less glamorous than that. Mostly we just make sex jokes in the aisles of supermarkets and cash in our quarters. We miss knowing where it is we want to be. We write papers we would never want to read, we write papers that don't matter to us one way or the other, we write papers on things that won't be relevant twenty years from now, at least not to anyone but our remembered selves. And no one will read them after we're gone from this place, unless our children find them in the attic on a rainy afternoon when there's little else to serve as entertainment.

I've gotten much better at living the now. I've been trained to worry about the next. And that shell is cracking like the skin on the heel of a runner who's gone one too many miles. I think less about what it is that may change what I love and more about how many things are going right for me. Impossible not to think about the past, I am more than guilty of dancing with skeletons in basement closets. But better to be in the room, with bodies that have yet to die.