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29th January 2008

8:26pm: The Wild Party Canto 9
What this?! An update from UCSB? Shocking, isn't it. I just couldn't go a whole year without posting anything. Considering getting a new LJ and/or FList reorganization. But then again, I may just create it and ignore it for another 11 months.

The Wild Party Canto 9

Joseph Moncure March

Some love is fire: some love is rust:
But the fiercest, cleanest love is lust.
And their lust was tremendous. It had the feel
Of hammers clanging; and stone; and steel:
And torches of the savage, roaring kind
That rip through iron, and strike men blind:
Of long trains crashing through caverns under
Grey trembling streets, like angry thunder:
Of engines throbbing; and hoarse steam spouting;
And feet tramping; and great crowds shouting.
A lust so savage, they could have wrenched
The flesh from bone and not have blenched.

11th February 2007

8:10pm: This poem by Stephen Vincent Benét (1893-1943) was not written about global warming, but it may as well have been.

Metropolitan Nightmare

It rained a lot that spring. You woke in the morning
And saw the sky still clouded, the streets still wet,
But nobody noticed so much, except the taxis
And the people who parade. You don’t, in a city.
The parks got very green. All the trees were green
Far into July and August, heavy with leaf,
Heavy with leaf and the long roots boring and spreading,
But nobody noticed that but the city gardeners
And they don’t talk.
Oh, on Sundays, perhaps you’d notice:
Walking through certain blocks, by the shut, proud houses
With the windows boarded, the people gone away,
You’d suddenly see the queerest small shoots of green
Poking through cracks and crevices in the stone
And a bird-sown flower, red on a balcony,
But then you made jokes about grass growing in the streets
And gags and a musical show called ”Hot and Wet.”
It made a good box for the papers. When the flamingo
Flew into a meeting of the Board of Estimate,
The new mayor acted at once and called the photographers.
When the first green creeper crawled upon Brooklyn Bridge,
They thought it was ornamental. They let it stay.

That was the year the termites came to New York
And they don’t do well in cold climates– but listen, Joe,
They’re only ants, and ants are nothing but insects.
It was funny and yet rather wistful, in a way
(As Heywood Broun pointed out in the World-Telegram)
To think of them looking for wood in a steel city.
It made you feel about life. It was too divine.
There were funny pictures by all the smart, funny artists
And Macy’s ran a terribly clever ad:
“The Widow’s Termite” or something.
There was no
Disturbance. Even the Communists didn’t protest
And say they were Morgan hirelings. It was too hot,
Too hot to protest, too hot to get excited,
An even African heat, lush, fertile and steamy,
That soaked into bone and mind and never once broke.
The warm rain fell in fierce showers and ceased and fell.
Pretty soon you got used to its always being that way.

You got used to the changed rhythm, the altered beat,
To people walking slower, to the whole bright
Fierce pulse of the city slowing, to men in shorts,
To the new sun-helmets from Best’s and the cop’s white uniforms,
And the long noon-rest in the offices, everywhere.
It wasn’t a plan or anything. It just happened.
The fingers tapped slower, the office-boys
Dozed on their benches, the bookkeeper yawned at his desk.
The A.T.&T. was the first to change the shifts
And establish an official siesta-room;
But they were always efficient. Mostly it just
Happened like sleep itself, like a tropic sleep,
Till even the Thirties were deserted at noon
Except for a few tourists and one damp cop.
They ran boats to see the big lilies on the North River
But it was only the tourists who really noticed
The flocks of rose-and-green parrots and parakeets
Nesting in the stone crannies of the Cathedral.
The rest of us had forgotten when they first came.

There wasn’t any real change, it was just a heat spell,
A rain spell, a funny summer, a weather-man’s joke,
In spite of the geraniums three feet high
In the tin-can gardens of Hester and Desbrosses.
New York was New York. It couldn’t turn inside out.
When they got the news from Woods Hole about the Gulf Stream,
The Times ran a adequate story.
But nobody reads those stories but science-cranks.

Until, one day, a somnolent city-editor
Gave a new cub the termite yarn to break his teeth on.
The cub was just down from Vermont, so he took his time.
He was serious about it. He went around.
He read all about termites in the Public Library
And it made him sore when they fired him.
So, one evening,
Talking with an old watchman, beside the first
Raw girders of the new Planetopolis Building
(Ten thousand brine-cooled offices, each with shower)
He saw a dark line creeping across the rubble
And turned a flashlight on it.
“Say, buddy,” he said,
“You’d better look out for those ants. They eat wood, you know,
They’ll have your shack down in no time.”
The watchman spat.
“Oh, they’ve quit eating wood,” he said, in a casual voice,
“I thought everybody knew that.”
–And, reaching down,
He pried from the insect jaws the bright crumb of steel.
Current Mood: cold

21st January 2007

4:27am: Satan's Vomit
orange_fell just sent me a link back in time to the early 1960s, a time of hairspray, nuclear proliferation, and creative food. This is the Aspic Aquarium. That has got to be among the most disgusting globs ever hurled from the depths of Satan’s stomach! I mean, there’s a special oven in hell for disgusting cholestoral-laced “creative food” from the 1950s-60s, but this one is just... wow.

Oh, and I’ll be at the midnight HEDWIG shadow-cast at the Nuart on Friday. More details at Rainbow Carnage’s Website.

And while I’m posting links, go check out DnDNerd.com, which is Donat’s new website about paper/pencil role-playing. It’s quite interesting!
Current Mood: disgusted

6th January 2007

4:41am: Home for the Holidays
I’ve had a mostly lovely holiday! I’ve especially enjoyed seeing my friends and the insanity of our gift-exchange! Christine got me Tom Stoppard’s Hapgood, which I’m reading and getting confused by already! Despite horrid delays from Amazon, everything for that set of friends arrived in time. However, several other goodies for Nade friends did not make it in time for the end of classes. Grr.

New Year’s Eve at the Sherbons’ was FANTASTIC. Christine and Donat brought a gingerbread house kit, which we decorated. Actually, most of the decorations were done by Donat and me, and a beautiful house it turned out to be. We did all but one side of the house and half the roof. We left the house at the Sherbies’ because we’re wicked.

The kit also came with two large gingerbread men. I came up with the brilliant plan to make one of them a good Paladin and the other one an Evil Blackguard. We gave the Paladin golden eyes, a gold-wrapped chocolate coin as a shield, and a peppermint stick spear topped with a pointy gumdrop. We planned to give the Blackguard red eyes and other evil accessories, but didn’t get around to it because we got distracted by Jessica’s shiny new Wii. I took these 2 home with me. I ate the undecorated Blackguard (I had to imagine the evil) while watching Ryan and Nicole in the Rose Parade, and intend to have the Paladin with some hot cocoa while watching The Plaisers with my mum after I finish this post.

The graphics on the Wii are beautiful (Jessica showed us “Twilight Princess”) and the controller quite cool, but I’m not much of a video gamer. However, I did play some bowling on it, and was pretty darn good at it. :)

Oh yeah, I’ve been a bit ill this break (hence it was “mostly lovely”) but I’m okay at the moment. I sprained my ankle on the first day of freedom, because I’m talented like that. And I had a bit of a stomach problem yesterday, possibly due to meds, fish, or a mild bug going around. Who knows. But it was pretty much the only unpleasent part of my vacation.

Now I’ve got the rest of my hw to finish before Monday. :( But I’m seeing my friends again tomorrow, and I think there’s TAMALES involved. WOOT!

Also, it is settled: My mum and I are going to New York in July! Squeee! Broadway! :D
Current Mood: happy

30th November 2006

1:39am: More than a Woman or a Man
It came! Downstairs there is a hot pink acting edition of Hedwig and the Angry Inch. I'm writing a paper for Poole's class comparing Jeffrey Eugenides' novel Middlesex with Hedwig. It's about Plato's Symposium, the experience of "the immigrant", and assimilating a gender. Working title is "More than a Woman or a Man."

Which made me all warm and fuzzy nerd-happy that I get to write about Hedwig in a critical literary analysis and that Poole won't look down on musical theatre (a rock musical at that!) as an inferior form of writing.

But said acting edition is downstairs until the end of tonight, when I turn in TEH UC APP OF DOOM. The Cal State app was super easy and with no essay. So once I turn in that UC monster, all I have to worry about are the private schools: Pitzer, Scripps, and Occidental. Used to have Reed on that list too, but I'm worried about the distance + my health, so I dropped that. Redlands used to be an option, but it's just so small... the thing I like about the Claremonts is there's the small college community but all the resources together come to about that of a big school like a UC.

My very own Hedwig awaits me... I think I shall put it on my plays shelf between Noel Coward and Tom Stoppard. Seems fitting.
Current Mood: tired yet happy

17th November 2006

4:19am: News from the Waterfront
Second weekend, here we come! First one wasn't too bad; hoping this one will be even better. I'm looking forward to closing ceremonies, when all the stress of tech coordination will be over and done with. Come and see us, it starts at 7:00, as usual.

So, I've been Botox'd today, for my shoulder/neck. IT HURT! :( But hopefully it'll help.

Oh, and the other news that will astonish the Club Nade people: GWALTNEY AND POOLE ARE GETTING MARRIED!!!! Shocking!
Current Mood: predatory

12th October 2006

2:22am: Tangee Lipstick
No, I haven’t fallen off the face of the Earth. I’ve just been ridiculously busy.

But I must update with this bit of news: I have TANGEE LIPSTICK. Tangee lipstick was invented in the 1950s and claims to look different on every woman. So Rachel and I ordered it from the Vermont Country Store, who are fine purveyors of all kinds of oddities, from soap to maple syrup to typewriters to boar bristle shaving cream brushes.

It is orange in the tube. It goes on clearish and then the magic happens... At first it was sort of orangey-pink on me, then very pink. It would not go away! It faded a bit over the course of the day, but by the end of my final class, it still looked like I had sucked on a pink magic marker!

Also: Discworld Cake!
Current Mood: pretty and witty and gay!

19th August 2006

8:05pm: Private Lives
AMANDA: I think very few people are completely normal really, deep down in their private lives. It all depends on a combination of circumstances. If all the various cosmic thingummys fuse at the same moment, and the right spark is struck, there's no knowing what one mightn't do. That was the trouble with Elyot and me, we were like two violent acids bubbling about in a nasty little matrimonial bottle.

-Noel Coward

9th August 2006

5:41pm: Meme:

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
5. Don’t you dare dig for that "cool" or "intellectual" book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest.
6. Tag five people.

Well the closest book in my room is Travesties by Tom Stoppard, but it doesn't have a page 123. So we'll go with the book under it, which is Cordelia's Honor by Lois McMaster Bujold:

"There is entirely too much physical evidence in that room, not to mention witnesses as to who went in and when, to attempt to monkey with the scenario. Personally, I should prefer for Bothari not to have been there at all. The fact that he is clearly non compos mentis will carry no weight with the prince when he gets wind of this."
Current Mood: tired

10th July 2006

2:49am: This is not a pipe.
I went into my bathroom to discover that a small picture of the painting "Ceci n'est pas une pipe" taped to the mirror. I went downstairs.

Me: Why is Magritte in my bathroom?!

Mom: I dunno, I just wanted to make your bathroom a little more surreal. Did it work?
Current Mood: surreal

7th July 2006

9:10pm: I've had this LJ for 2 years now, today.

AX was awesome, I got a new dice bag. It's a pink zippered pencil bag with a geisha with a vaccuum cleaner! It has delightful Engrish like "It is designed to keep you comfortable life!" Nice to see Sadie and Christine&Donat and Niki and company. and and and and... I got my portrait drawn by a girl in the artisist' alley who drew me last year. She was using a copy of her drawing of me from last year as display work. I was surprised.

La la la, Rachel's going to norcal today to visit her pirate beau!

Mmm, funky monkey brownies downstairs...

Progress: Working on script and character designs for summer comic project; need to do more summer reading for AP English and Gov. Bleeeeeah.
Current Mood: wooooooooo

25th June 2006

8:18pm: Midnight Radio
This a review of the Hedwig stage show currently running at the Roxy.

I put on some make up, turn on the 8-track....Collapse )

Go see it!
Current Mood: silly

14th June 2006

6:03am: There's a stack of 5 books by/about Stoppard sitting in my room right now. I like the UCLA library.... &hearts. I promise not to make this an all-Stoppard journal, really! And I'll do my crappy AP Lit summer reading too. (Eeeeeeew) So here's some summer stuff in general.

red_toupee: Can you prove god exists?

red_toupee: How about that! bwa hahaha

below_the_salt: I'm on summer vaction, I'm not obligated to be philosophical anymore.

Project Plushie shows statisfactory progress and aluring alliteration!
# of arms needed: 6
# made: 4
# attached to Plushies: 3

(Still trying to figure out how to make a crossbow. Sculpey is my best bet.)

TONYS: OMG Jersey Boys WTF?! Not Drowsy Chaperone?!
Feh! Drowsy Chaperone and A Fine and Private Place CDs came today. Excited!

Going to tea with Christine and Ms Thumm on Thursday.
I should probably have something readable with me...
I wrote a poem yesterday, I've been working on the Solitary Confinement play. No progress with the Summer Comic Idea to report at this point.

Good night!
Current Mood: sleepy

11th June 2006

4:44am: The Last Spamurai
Today I got a spam e-mail which I opened because somehow it slipped past the filter and I was just going through my inbox with the arrow keys, not looking at specific subjects. There was a string of incomprehensible numbers and then this message:

"hope. Indeed for your old grand-father Tooks sake, and for the sake of
poor Belladonna, I will give you what you asked for.
I beg your pardon, I havent asked for anything!
Yes, you have! Twice now. My pardon. I give it you. In fact I will"

In fact you will what?? We'll never know...
Current Mood: mysterious

8th June 2006

3:14am: Guildenstern is Love

What quote from Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are you?

A Chinaman of the Tang Dynasty- and, by which definition, a philosopher- dreamed he was a butterfly, and from that moment he was never quite sure he was not a butterfly dreaming it was a Chinese philosopher. Envy him; in his two-fold security.
Take this quiz!

Quizilla |

| Make A Quiz | More Quizzes | Grab Code

Current Mood: philosophical

3rd June 2006

9:18pm: Love, Blood and Rhetoric
I saw Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead last night. Full review is under the cut.

What did you have in mind? A short, blunt human pyramid?Collapse )
Current Mood: amused

25th May 2006

6:44am: Porphyria's Lover
The rain set early in tonight,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soiled gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me &mdash she
Too weak, for all her heart's endeavor,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me forever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could tonight's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last l knew
Porphyria worshiped me: surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string l wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily oped her lids: again
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And l untightened next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propped her head up as before,
Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorned at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria's love: she guessed not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said aword!

-Robert Browning

This is an interesting take on it.
Current Mood: listless

16th May 2006

7:38pm: Prom 2006 Pics!
Heh heh, this is Rachel, posting on my little sister's livejournal.
My little sister, who just went to her junior PROM!!!
So yeah, basically, I played the role of paparazzi! with a digital camera! for the early part of the evening, so here are a bunch of photos to show you how glamorous everybody looked.
Shall We Dance?Collapse )
Current Mood: artistic

14th May 2006

10:24pm: "More spooniness than you'd find in a cutlery drawer"
The Broadway Playbill for The Invention of Love:

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

The Invention of Love is about scholars and poets, and unrequited love. Here we have a picture of a nubile nude youth. Stoppard's entite point in The Invention of Love is that it is not about naked boys.

x-posted to tomstoppard
Current Mood: pointless rant

3rd May 2006

1:49am: During Trig today...
Me: Hey, Amber, do you have any gum?

Amber: I dunno, let me see... Hey, I have these!

Me: Sweet, Lifesavers. Wait, they’re CRYSTAL METH flavored?! What does that say?! Oh, CRYST-O-MINT.

Amber: Crystal meth Lifesavers would be awesome.

APUSH on Friday!
Current Mood: Heh heh

26th April 2006

2:22am: Ros: Foul! No rhetoric. Two/one.
The final scores of the ultimate Questions Game, according to the Grove Press edition of Rosguil.

Act 1
Ros: 96
Guil: 101
Player: 12

Act 2
Ros: 51
Guil: 67
Player: 20

Act 3
Ros: 65
Guil: 55
Player: 10

Ros: 212
Guil: 223
Player: 42

Grand Total: 477!
Current Mood: bleah

22nd April 2006

5:50pm: How You Survived the 1930s
Do you know what this is?

Image hosting by Photobucket

That's my prom dress. It's a J. Peterman dress and it was on clearance.
Current Mood: happy

10th April 2006

10:26pm: "S. I. W." (Self Inflicted Wound)
"I will to the King,
And offer him consolation in his trouble,
For that man there has set his teeth to die,
And being one that hates obedience,
Discipline, and orderliness of life,
I cannot mourn him."
W. B. Yeats.

Patting goodbye, doubtless they told the lad
He'd always show the Hun a brave man's face;
Father would sooner him dead than in disgrace, --
Was proud to see him going, aye, and glad.
Perhaps his Mother whimpered how she'd fret
Until he got a nice, safe wound to nurse.
Sisters would wish girls too could shoot, charge, curse, . . .
Brothers -- would send his favourite cigarette,
Each week, month after month, they wrote the same,
Thinking him sheltered in some Y.M. Hut,
Where once an hour a bullet missed its aim
And misses teased the hunger of his brain.
His eyes grew old with wincing, and his hand
Reckless with ague. Courage leaked, as sand
From the best sandbags after years of rain.
But never leave, wound, fever, trench-foot, shock,
Untrapped the wretch. And death seemed still withheld
For torture of lying machinally shelled,
At the pleasure of this world's Powers who'd run amok.

He'd seen men shoot their hands, on night patrol,
Their people never knew. Yet they were vile.
"Death sooner than dishonour, that's the style!"
So Father said.

One dawn, our wire patrol
Carried him. This time, Death had not missed.
We could do nothing, but wipe his bleeding cough.
Could it be accident? -- Rifles go off . . .
Not sniped? No. (Later they found the English ball.)

It was the reasoned crisis of his soul.
Against the fires that would not burn him whole
But kept him for death's perjury and scoff
And life's half-promising, and both their riling.

With him they buried the muzzle his teeth had kissed,
And truthfully wrote the Mother "Tim died smiling."

-Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)

16th March 2006

9:27am: Cry Havoc! and let slip the dogs of war!
To complete the Ides of March subject, I use the appropriate (or not) icon and relate this tale:

Concert Band plotted to assassinate Mr. Smith yesterday, in full Julias Caeser style. I played the soothsayer and warned him. Andy (Cassius) informed me later that night that the conspirators chickened out. Oh well.

We spent lunch reciting Shakespeare.

Today was Founders' Day + Gallopthru. Shaw and Ren's final argument in the chapel is FAR more amusing as a lightsaber duel.

Random note: I’m running applications for next year’s Assistant Tech Coordinator.

And as I was tagged by my sister dear:

Things that I dislike:
2. No longer being friends with Jessica B.
3. Paula and Sean’s tastes in musicals.
4. Sleep deprevation. This is clinically defined as not getting at least 7 hours of good rest on a regular basis.
5. That I missed the deadline for the Young Playwrights competition (yesterday). I currently have 5 pages of that play typed, some disjointed scraps of dialogue from later scenes, and several pages of notes.
6. This isn’t so much something I dislike, per say, but I do think it terribly sad that there are good books in the Chaminade library that have never been checked out, or were last checked out 35 or more years ago. No-one uses the library anymore.
7. Yipes-stripes. I’m too young and carefree stressed out to have wrinkles!

Things that I enjoy:
1. My family’s conversations at dinner.
2. Mix CDs. Recieving them and making them.
3. Tom Stoppard plays. I have this strange desire to write an essay called “Thinking and Feeling: Scholars and Poets in Arcadia and The Invention of Love.” I might, someday.
4. The Chaminade Players, Stage Crew and the Drama Wall. ”Box Office is O-KAY!” *hearts Niki*
5. Classic table-top D&D. I love my party. Shout out: happy birthday, Donat!
6. Thrift stores. I want to go shopping.
7. Obscure musicals.

Random People Upon Whom I lay an Imperative to Answer
1. chiyo_no_hikri
2. humancyclopedia
3. megalomaniageek
4. magicaltrevor16
5. london_cutie05
6. chewnami (JonChew, where are you??)
7. astaraelweeper
Current Mood: stressed

9th March 2006

4:14am: Sizzling Cats
"Why?" asked the man. "Why the Egyptian, Arabic, Abyssinian, Choctaw? Well, what tongue does the wind talk? What nationality is a storm? What country do rains come from? What color is lightning? Where does thunder go when it dies? Boys, you got to be ready in every dialect with every shape and form to hex the St. Elmo's fires, the balls of blue light that prowl the earth like sizzling cats. I got the only lightning rods in the world that hear, feel, know and sass back any storm, no matter what tongue, voice or sign. No foreign thunder so loud this rod can't soft-talk it!"

-Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes
Current Mood: productive
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