happy dagger
Yeah, I give up. This blog has been dead to begin with. I've been keeping this only because I get to have nifty links to everyone else's blogspot account. I also get to show off my flickr and last.fm badges, which livejournal won't allow.
I like being a show boat but this site doesn't give me the satisfaction of *punchdrunkdaisy's page hits and comments. If you wish to be bothered, kindly update your links back to my livejournal. =)
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*BECAUSE CARLO ASKED: I own all 'punchdrunkdaisy' accounts online, I think, save for a 'poetry' site in Xanga and a deviantart account. I am not an artist like punchdrunkdaisy#2. I enjoy my life of comfort and stupidity, thank you. I am conceited, yes, and a brat. Deal with it.
Search for meaning? What meaning?
Redirection
To those who have asked, I seldom post in this blog. My
livejournal is much more alive and it would be better if you go there more often. =)
Work = Creative Maladaptivity
Dorwing post and rambling on my LJ.
ClicketyPic.
Oh yes.
Here's to leaving my giddy, most stupid, school girl self at
4pm tomorrow, to nurturing a more selective memory, and realizing how verbose remembering can be.
*art by Y.Akamoto
Thank goodness for today, I'm looking forward to tomorrow.
Translation = Verbal --> Visual
Practice. And because I'm on a bad mood swing, I picked tragic/nostalgic "Unusual Gravitation" by M.Durand.
If my distance from you were doubled,
the attractive force would be quartered;
your speed is sufficient to prevent your
falling, and just enough to keep you
from flying away—such orbit enables
me, speaking of bodies, to invent telescopes
and keep after you, explaining that motion
is an instrument fine and honed. Watch here
this diagram: a balanced reflector can detect
a planet through its disc-like appearance
or its motion against a background of stars.
A wandering star, then, is closer than a fixed
wallpaper of points, linked, your orbit
to my orbit. What seems still is farther away
and oblivious to me. Against such spiralling
away and repellent movement, is response,
circular as it is, and then each planet is
discovered, and hidden bodies, opaque
against such matter, in delicate calculation
appear, and whether fragment or sphere,
each casts its influence upon the other,
each orbit moves slightly, each moved.
My most recent concerns
- - -
I haven't started on thesis and my Contemporary Poetry Review application. I also haven't been reading for my classes.
I already feel the pain of cramming. Even the parties will be crammed: The Heights Christmas party in Bel Field next Tuesday and the lit majors' party with the teachers next Thursday. I don't know why I'm enjoying this lag.
I'm going to be dead next week.
Some times
I used to carry my video camera around.
Now the power cord's missing and I can't go around doing what I used to do. I still have a memorable John L. reading of a Baudelaire poem in the tape stuck inside the video cam. I wish I could just pry the damn thing open so I can watch everything I filmed.
- - -
I doodle whenever I feel sleepy in class. Here is a (more or less detailed) gesture sketch of my teacher last sem:
I love the guy's ears. I also liked to doodle his stories, with a little color:
Red ballpen plus green highlighter does the trick!
Release and Restraint
punchdrunkdaisy,
timespacewarp, and now,
littlepaperumbrella. My obsession with three-word blog titles has spawned another site to waste time on self-centered posts.
I spoke with Rommel yesterday and he reminded me of the need to work, why most of the stuff found at the back of my notebooks are nice, and why people who draw are scared of beautiful blank paper.
