Cooper Union #3

Wednesday, December 29, 2010 | |

3. A view around a corner or a quaquaversal.

Quaquaversal: going off in all directions at once; dipping away from a centre in all directions

In geology, lava beds are examples of quaquaversals because they are inclined outward in all directions from a central point or area.

I thought fractals were similiar to quaquaversals because they too go out in all directions at once.

Decalcomania is a Surrealist technique. It is the process of spreading thick paint upon a canvas then — while it is still wet — covering it with further material such as paper or aluminium foil. This covering is then removed (again before the paint dries), and the resultant paint pattern becomes the basis of the finished painting. The technique was much employed by artists such as Max Ernst. Decalcomania can produce fractal-like patterns

So I used decalcomania to get fractal patterns. Then over that I applied an acrylic transfer of a photo of a lava bed dipping in all directions.


Fractal pattern

Cooper Union # 1

| |

1. Draw three pieces of furniture from observation. Create a new piece of furniture from a combination of these drawings.

Acrylic and Marker on Transparencies 













Front cover when folded up




Sorry about the crappy photos.

Shitty comics

Sunday, December 26, 2010 | |


Friday, December 24, 2010 | |

Cooper Union Test #2

Wednesday, December 22, 2010 | |

2. A self-portrait including both a view of the top of your head and the bottom of your feet.




I was thinking of cutting it out and putting it on a background of acrylic wash. Also I couldn't decide if I should make the lines of the squares less visible.

Yeah, I was there.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010 | |

Charles Bukowski

Wednesday, September 8, 2010 | |

the last song

driving the freeway while
listening to the Country and Western boys
sing about a broken heart
and the honkytonk blues,
it seems that things just don't work
most of the time
and when they do it will be for a
short time
only.
well, that's not news.
nothing's news.
it's the same old thing in
disguise.
only one thing comes without a
disguise and you only see it
once, or
maybe never.
like getting hit by a freight
train.
makes us realize that all our
moaning about long lost girls
in gingham dresses
is not so important
after
all.

And I'm,

Sunday, July 11, 2010 | |

lost. I can't deny that. And I keep seeing secret meanings in everything. And I want to get some answers. But maybe there are no answers. I don't know if I can believe that any longer. Once I definitely agreed but now life seems to have a meaning. I no longer completely believe in coincidences,I can no longer deny my belief in fate. I see the world in a completely different way than I did two years ago or a year ago or six months ago.

fdkfl;kdsf;

Monday, June 28, 2010 | |

I'm always feeling out of control

New blog.

Sunday, June 27, 2010 | |

http://gorillafilmmakers.wordpress.com/

I enjoy odd things sometimes...

Thursday, June 17, 2010 | |

like when this girl plays the Christian radio station at work. Anything God-related tends to have lyrics or Bible quotes that really catch you.

"I'm a liar seeking the truth."

"Our tongues have the power of life and death."

I think I want to read the Bible. Although I think I may agree with Eastern religions more so maybe I should look into Buddhism or something. I feel like I need to explore religion at this point.

I also need to move out simply because I can't really live my life properly when living at home. I have to hide things and feel guilty and ashamed and that's really know way to live. There's a reason most people don't live with their parents at this point. I love my mom and it's nice to live with her and not have to worry about rent and utilities and all that grown-up money stuff. But I'm over it. I'm ready to worry about rent and utilities and all that grown-up money stuff. I'm no Jack Kerouac (who lived with his mom until the day he died, which wasn't very old but still...he was like forty-five or something.)

I have to go to work now. Thank god it's Thursday.

No real answers.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010 | |

No official diagnosis as of yet. ADHD and Bipolar II are being explored (mentioned? considered? I have no idea.) Starting Abilify (a mood stabilizer) and then adding Prozac.

In honor of short entries

Thursday, June 3, 2010 | |

I hate men. Not all men. But I never really hate women. I don't even give them that kind of time and energy. But men, well, I can really hate them.

I'm worried

Tuesday, May 4, 2010 | |

that I'll never be great.

New York

Friday, April 30, 2010 | |

is like a really, really big high school.

Peek-a-boo by Daniel Johnston

Thursday, April 29, 2010 | |

This song means spring to me. It means driving down the road on a spring day with the windows down and the leaves coming back in light green and the smell of spring that I can barely remember now since New York's spring smells different than back home although it's just as beautiful. You notice all the green where in fall you forgot it and the white popcorn trees bloom on the sides of the streets near Washington Square and everyone is back on the streets with their dogs and babies. And it smells like those popcorn flowers and warm cement. Except New York's spring is sour just as she is sweet and includes rainy, half-wintery days where the wind whips around the buildings and kills you like it did that time with Miguel and Truman forever and ever ago when we smoked that blunt with keif the morning after I rolled and then I was too fucked up to go to drawing class and went to eat breakfast instead. We were walking to breakfast high as fuck when we turned this corner and were hit with a wall of wind. We all fell backwards trying to escape the wind's horrible powers. Yeah, that wind will get you. I miss everything that's ever happened. Well, maybe not really. But there are small moments of every one of my past lives that was good. That was a good moment with Miguel and Truman even though things got bad. And then good? I don't know.

Where am I going, where have I been?

MIX

Sunday, April 25, 2010 | |

Ok. This is the mix updated. Please listen because it took me forever to upload. I'm trying to get rid of like two songs also.


Why

| |

did I never look up videos of Billy Childish before?!








I really miss

Thursday, April 22, 2010 | |

getting stoned with people back home. Because I really wish that there was someone here with me right now to see this old, really tall guy with weird hair pulling down vines and shit in his garden. It is so fucking weird! I'm trying to charge my camera battery right now just to capture it on video it's so fucking amazing.

He moved out of eyesight goddammit. And he put on a hat. It's the cutest old man hat. He has to be insane.

Either that or I am.

He will not come back to where I can tape him. Man, I feel like if someone was here right now - like my roommate or my neighbor - they would be like, "Sam, you can't do that. You're so weird." But I don't really care.

My life is a series of telecommunications (miscommunications is not a word according to this spell check) .

If this year has taught me anything,

Wednesday, April 21, 2010 | |

it's not to go for your dreams. People are right when they say you won't make it.

Ew.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010 | |

I hate listening to music through headphones - even fairly good headphones. I actually prefer my computer speakers a lot of the time. Music is such a physical thing. I don't like it when it's so close to me. Any other time you listen to music it's not directly around your ears but instead it's inside a space. I don't know. Maybe I'm just babbling. I should look up some scientific stuff to explain it better.

I love

Monday, April 19, 2010 | |

the changing of the seasons when I get to switch from winter music to spring music to summer music to fall music to winter music.

Sunday, April 18, 2010 | |

Is this one of those "it has to get worse before it gets better" kind of things or are antidepressants just wrong for me. Seriously, I take them one day and before you're even supposed to be feeling the effects I'm anxious and sick and can't sleep and feel basically fucked up. The only reason I'm even up and moving right now is because I smoked. Otherwise I would still be lying in bed clenching my jaw and trying to fall asleep. My pupils are even dilated. Isn't that so weird?

Over the course of this year,

Saturday, April 17, 2010 | |

I think I have gotten like 100 times weirder. No, really.


I used to always have this image of what I looked like to other people - this kind of constructed identity. Now when I try to imagine how other people perceive me, I cannot fathom their perceptions of me at all.




I love Marc Bolan:









This song is just awesome:



John Lennon and Yoko Ono are adorable:




Ok, they were also weird but whatever.

My favorite couple is Marina Abramovic and Ulay. They did performance art together and their whole relationship was kind of an artwork itself. They were going to walk from opposite sides of the Wall of China and meet in the middle and get married. But instead it ended up being that they met in the middle and said goodbye and never did anymore performances together. I love their story because it's tragically beautiful.

A Mix

Tuesday, April 13, 2010 | |

Please listen to this and get back to me about how you think it works. Does it flow nicely? Are there any songs you think don't fit? etc.



P.S.

Begins with the song 1969.

So..

Monday, April 12, 2010 | |

Got into the Art Institute of Chicago. Got their measly portfolio scholarship. Got into SVA. Don't know about any financial aid there but doesn't seem likely. Looks like I'm not going to school next year because of money mostly. Thanks again, NYU, for giving me the shittiest year of my life and taking all my money and all my future money and spoiling any chance of success I might have.


I am sitting here thinking of how I will probably be happy enough working a minimum wage job the rest of my life anyway. I've decided I will just never marry or have a family and then just spend all my money on weed and books and paints and CDs and DVDs and alcohol and live a lonely but less stressed existence. I'll probably see this as the best time of my life. Fuck.

Three

Saturday, April 10, 2010 | |

Just now, I almost poured a glass of water over my head. There really was no reason. I'm in a good mood most of the day and then someone tells me something I don't want to hear and I'm all distant, feeling isolated and annoyed.

Painted today. Forgot how much I love it.

I really think I should stop writing in this. It's getting a bit obsessive and I don't think anyone bothers to read my drawn-out, whiny posts so I should just go back to writing down my thoughts in a journal or something.

Fuck. I am so fucking lonely.

Man

| |

I've only been to my painting class like three or four times. It's gotten to the point where I'm scared to go back. Dammit.

Scott Walker

| |

So I watched this movie about Scott Walker:



It was okay, but it really got me into this guy. His later stuff is amazing.



I don't know if anyone else will like it. I just think it sounds like nothing I've ever heard. It's better if you hear a higher quality version of it though.

But don't listen to him if you're in a good mood. At least not his newer albums. 30 Century Man is a great song that's from his older stuff that's not depressing.

OMG!

Thursday, April 8, 2010 | |

I want Morgan and Ian out of this room so I can clean it immediatley. Ugh. Where are my scissors? Morgan took them in the bathroom without explanation and of course did not return them to their rightful place in the cup on my desk. I hate everything. I want to go home so badly. I want to die. I want to find a video camera on ebay. Ugh. Stop laughing. Stop talking. My side of the room was completely clean less than a week ago. I have no space! I have nothing. I have no respect. I have nothing. I want to take a shower but it's so damn hot. I want to clean. I wish I had (I need) weed. I don't want to go to work but at the same time I can't wait to go to work. I wish they would leave. I hate living in this room. Four more weeks. Four more weeks. Four more weeks. How will I pack with all this shit everywhere? I want to kill myself. I hate my life. Everything is annoying me severely. I'm not going to do anymore homework.


ldjfkljdflsf fldsfjlsfjljfl jfklsfeofjdlksklc.

alfjdlsfjdlk;

Wednesday, April 7, 2010 | |

Maybe I have bipolar disorder. I know that this sounds far fetched to most people but I really want to know why one day/minute/hour I'll feel on top of the world and have all these ambitions. I think of making a zine. I think of buying people presents and mailing them. I think of starting a band. I think of a million things. Then the next minute I feel worthless. I feel like everyone hates me; is against me. I abandon all projects - think they're stupid even. This year these mood swings have gotten progressively worse. There are times when it takes me forever to wake up in the mornings no matter how early I went to bed and then there are times when I wake up at seven or eight perfectly refreshed no matter how late I went to sleep.

Yesterday I tried taking the Zoloft again and went completely crazy. At first I felt really euphoric and thought "Is this how normal people feel? So happy all the time?" Then I couldn't sleep. I felt anxious and angry and scared. I felt shaky. At seven in the morning my pupils were dilated. It was horrible.

I don't know what's going on and I really just want someone to give me an answer.

I exist

Monday, April 5, 2010 | |

in a vacuum.



I rather not exist at all.

Tooth Decay

| |

When I was little, probably four or five, I scrubbed my teeth incessantly one day for much longer than dentists recommend or at least longer than most four or five year olds spend on their teeth. The yellow of my teeth wouldn't match the white foam of the toothpaste. Futility. "You're still brushing your teeth?" my babysitter asks. "I want my teeth to be as white as Cameron's," is my answer. I wanted my teeth to be like those as my best friend's baby brother - who was probably one at the time. I wanted that four years of grime off of my teeth. I wanted them to be pure and beautiful like Cameron's. I wanted them to be perfectly white and eternal.

| |

I'm just trying to make it through the day.


If that means I sit and listen to music instead of doing homework and smoke and keep my job even if it's getting in the way of my studies and eat a lot of chocolate instead of real food and watch about six episodes of The Simpsons a day, well, then so be it.

grrrrr

Sunday, April 4, 2010 | |

Hidden entrance painted white like the rest of the building. Amateur graffiti adorns the place. Walk up a narrow flight of stairs. There you will find The Market Hotel. Pay ten dollars and go into the space. Dimly lit people sit around whispering among each other. A coffee sign flashes in the corner. Coffee, it says. Then flashes into an image of a steaming coffee cup. Stage is set back. A sheet with flowers serves as the backdrop, its corners are falling. There are Christmas lights. On the wood paneling there are paintings, a doodle-like representation of a giant gorilla-type being. Show starts. First band is lo-fi, lo-talent (two guitarists, a bassist, and a drum machine) but not horrible. No one dances. No one even moves. The crowd is all standoffish twenty something year olds. I see a kid from school. We met in the laundry room and managed to keep up a conversation for maybe forty-five minutes, maybe more. He is the most comfortable person I’d ever met. He’s amazing at talking to strangers but you get the idea that he never really gets close to anyone. Running into him isn’t awkward. He comes over and talks to me like I see him everyday. Second band is better. A crowd starts to form. The eighteen/nineteen year old crowd is a little better – friendlier, less detached. Guitarist makes his guitar dance and a stream of fuzzy sounds ensues. A couple of Jonno’s (laundry room, comfortable talker) friends come. I’ve met them before too. The girl asks me where I’m living next year. Says the girls she was going to live with are changing plans. In the corner I spot a girl I work with in a red hat. When I finally decide to say hello, she’s gone. I search around for a red hat periodically. Third band starts to set up. Then the police show up. Streams of concentrated light searching for culprits emulate from their hands. After five rounds of intimidation they tell us to leave. The Market Hotel has no permits. We all file out down the narrow staircase. Bonding over mutual disdain for the police occurs. The feeling outside on the street seems to be, “Oh well,” and people are moving on to the next stage of their night.

Dreams

Thursday, April 1, 2010 | |

Jan 29

I was in my car trying to park at this coffee shop to get ice cream and my car stops working. I can sort of steer but I can't break or anything else. I'm also on a lot of ecstasy. I run into one of those parking things and for some reason my car catches on fire. I scream and people are helping me out from the coffee shop and Matt White. The bottoms of my feet are black like 3rd degree burns.

Then I'm near home trying to find my mom's work with Morgan and Ishita. They keep trying to tell me where it's from and I'm like, "You guys, I'm from around here." My feet are still black from the accident.

Then we're in this hotel and everyone is there. Morgan and Ishita are part of this intense girl fight club that makes me very uncomfortable. They keep asking me to join.

Something about getting lost in this guy's house with a boy...

Another part of the story involves two girls who lost their mom...One gets found and can't talk or anything.

Jan 31

I'm home from college except it's not my home because my mom's been living with a guy in Mexico.

I'm on a kid's bike - a tricycle with Brandon Kikendall on a real bike - except it sort of isn't Brandon Kikendall. We're riding through these woods, we smoke pot a couple times. At one point we're on these bleachers and there's two hickish men there.

My tricycle breaks and I call my mom to see if somecan bring my real bike. I ask if Carol could get it if she goes back to Indy or if Linda could bring it if she comes. I feel like we're somewhere in southern Indiana.

I'm on a computer trying to look up my flight times while Lauren's dad is talking to me.

My mom comes to where I'm with Brandon but it's now a kitchen. She mentions something about me being high but I just laugh at her because I'm really not high at all anymore. She starts making me a fried banana and peanut butter sandwich. She tells me about Mexico.

Feb 1

First I'm going back to school after a break. I'm talking to Ms. Hensely and Lili. I tell them that all the people at school look like animals - as in, in my mind they have these animal features.

There's a little boy I'm supposed to be watching in a theater but he crawls away. I'm freaking out but we find him underneath a stranger's seat.

I'm running cross country. I don't know the route but it's inside this confusing house. I hear people talking so I open the door. People from the cross country team are sitting in the room. I ask if it's the end and they say they don't know but that they don't feel like trying anymore.

Feb 2

I'm at a flea market/garage sale with Jon. The clothes are amazing in this one booth/store in a basement and they're only 22 cents each. I'm asking him if I think a certain skirt will fit me but his kind of standoffish and says he doesn't know.

I go with Truman to buy a bunch of pizzas for people who are hanging out around this pool.

Feb 3

I get off an airplane and there's a guy on a motorcycle waiting for me. I get on. I've go to to this dining hall place. This one woman can't get through this turnstile because she's betrayed her country.

We're making CD-ROMS for The Sims 3. After talking about it I really want to go play it so I do.

We're walking through town with two other CD-ROM makers. We hear about these haunted places. The first is this place in the woods before the scarier place. It's like this place with water and we're driving the motorcycle above it. I'm complaining about all the mosquitoes. There's supposed to be alligators/hippos in the water. We go to leave. In a cave part of the place there are people - a teenage guy and girl and a young boy. I start talking to the little boy who is rambunctious. The motorcycle guy - my friend - starts flirting with the girl. He says he'll see her at church and then we leave.

Feb 10

I'm at a hotel with Madi. We're talking when there's a knock at the door. It's someone from my floor telling us to be quiet. They also have stuffed crust pizza.

The next day we're having dinner when Lauren walks in. She asks where my grandma is and I say in the hospital.

Feb 19

I'm on my way to Video Art with Dana and Will and we're late. Will is going to Photography but he's so late he just comes with us. We go into a big auditorium with a lot of other students to watch a presentation. At first it's really interesting but then we get bored. Dana gets up to go somewhere and I'm left alone with Will. He leans his head on the seat and he's sitting in front of me. I tousle his hair then pretend I didn't when he looks up. Then some bitties come over and Dana is back. All the bitties are flirting with Will. I kick one of them and then act nonchalant but Will sees me. The presentation is over so we leave. We go into a big room. I think Will leaves.

Now I'm walking with Madi and Eric by water. Wherever we are it's cold but not freezing. Eric talks about how the drinking age in this state is 18. I say where I'm from it's 21. He says that's a shame you won't be able to drink if I take you the the harbor. I say yes I will I'm 18.

There's this weird railroad track thing we need someone to cross. There's a group of people discussing it. We decide to use one of the children upstairs since they're small enough to do it. The children volunteer by writing down their names. I choose a name at random: E. Audrey Rose. When I go to the room with the children a little girl steps forward and a boy says, "Don't go" but she ignores him and doesn't seem bothered that the task is dangerous. I explain to her what she has to do. It's too dark so she'll have to do it tomorrow.

I'm on a bus and Stacy is sitting next to me. I ask her why she wrote her name as E. Audrey Rose. She says she thinks it's beautiful. I say Audrey reminds me of this pretentious, anorexic girl and do impressions of her. Two girls in the seat in front of us turn around and say, "Pretentious means like stuck up right?" And I nod and talk to them for a bit. They remind me of Brian's cousin and her friends.

Now I'm going into a room with these boys and I know Jon's going to be there. I think we had come from Jon's apartment but Jon had gotten ahead of us. I'm expecting to see him with his new girlfriend. When I walk in there's three or four boys and a couple middle-aged women and a baby and Cathy Hodson. Cathy talks about how she knows ma and how her kids used to torture me. I say no that badly. The guy next to me says I was talking about how bad they teased me earlier. Jon is sitting next to a fatter girl and I don't think it''s his girlfriend. He's ignoring my existence. I start playing with the baby. One of the guys asks me if I want some cereal. Some of the people get up and go outside including Jon. The guy who asked me if I wanted cereal says they're going to smoke marijuana then asks me what kind of cereal I want.

Feb 21

Jon invites me over to his new place. While I'm sitting on a couch waiting for him to get back from the bathroom a woman walks in and starts talking to me. I assume she's a neighbor he's friends with. She's actually cool to talk to and starts massaging my shoulders. She leaves and I'm still waiting for Jon. This woman with a clipboard and three guys walk up. She tells me they're having group. I get up and go out in the hallway and that's when I realize I'm on the psych ward of a hospital. It's the same hospital I was in last year. I call Jon and ask him why he didn't tell me.


After that last dream I quit writing down my dreams because I didn't want to remember them anymore. I'm going to start again.

HEY!

Wednesday, March 31, 2010 | |

Does anyone know what those art kits were called where you made a picture out of sand? The paper was sticky. You would uncover parts of the picture and pour one color of sand on. Then peel off more parts and pour a different color of sand. Please get back to me if you have any information on this. It's slightly important.

At one time,

Tuesday, March 30, 2010 | |

I'll have 30 - 40 tabs open on my Firefox window. It's ridiculous. At the moment some tabs I have open include:

-A Google search for wolf eyes

-A review of Evolving Blush or Driving Original Sin at ARTISTdirect.com

-A Wikipedia article on Keiji Haino

-Japanese restaurants that delivers to me on Grubhub

-A Google search of nepotism

-American apparel webmail

-The Cramps discography torrent

-Aaron Dilloway on Discogs

-Google search for vhs-c converter

-A "PHILIPS USA PH61300 Vhs-c Adapter" on Amazon

That's probably about half of them. I gotta go get my laundry. But I'll leave you with this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch_private?v=b7b3UrLqS_Y&sharing_token=JngmPUqddUEZdeFhBQkrog

Tell me if that works. 

Books I'm Reading:

Monday, March 29, 2010 | |

1. The Psychic Soviet by Ian Svenonius


I don't really know too much about it. All the information I've read about it is Amazon reviews. I just bought it on a whim at the St. Mark's Bookshop the other day. It's kind of just a bunch of little essays. I guess you could say it's postmodern or something. I don't know. It's just essays on like the Cold War, rock n roll as commercialism, and Seinfeld.

2. Tristessa - Jack Kerouac


I just started this one today. I love Jack Kerouac and I realized it'd been awhile since I'd read anything by him and so I bought this one because it's real short and I don't have much time to read with working and school. It seems to be about one of his love affairs in Mexico basically. His style is pretty abstract at this point. It was written definitely after On the Road but before Big Sur.

5. number9dream - David Mitchell


I'm reading this one for class but I like it so far. I wish I wasn't having to read it at such a fast pace though. It reminds me of Murakami - he even refers to him in the book. Also this book by Banana Yoshimoto called Asleep is similar. All these Japanese and Japanese-influenced novels seem to have the same combination of mystery and mysticism. David Mitchell is English but resides in Hiroshima. His style is a somewhat Westernized version of this mystery and mysticism.


Yea. That's it really.

I Can't Get No Satisfaction

Sunday, March 28, 2010 | |

Not even from seeing his number on missed calls four times. Three from five in the morning on Friday and one from two last night. I'm curious about why he's calling but another part of me just doesn't care. He's not calling to profess his love for me. He's not calling to say he's coming to New York to rescue me. He's not calling to say I'm sorry for driving you crazy, I will change and always be there for you. So really what's the point? The only thing it would do was perpetuate this cycle of being on his good terms for awhile and then falling out of his graces with one wrong step.

But who can say how long I'll actually hold out? All he has to do is call at that perfect time when everything seems horrible and his number seems so delicious and I'll think of his name and the picture I have of him in my head and I'll forget the real person. Then I will pick up.

Until then, I will preoccupy myself with the war I have going on with this huge poster on my wall. I have to reinforce it everyday with Scotch tape because that is the only tape I have. Regardless of this it sometimes it just falls on top of me. It's a frightening experience. You're lying down close to sleep and a poster comes crashing down on top of you.

I spent almost two hours in a bookstore today. I am going to read three books at one time. I thought I'd make the most of my ADD by switching the books I'm reading constantly in an attempt to stay engaged.

Not-Quite-Midnight Dreams (I'm on a writing rampage.)

Saturday, March 27, 2010 | |

I saw my best friend’s (yes, I’d still say she’s my best friend even though I hardly talk to her anymore, one of three people I consider my closest friends) baby’s head sway backwards for a split second before my best friend caught it. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” she says. She is the same as always. Her boyfriend surprisingly seems to have adapted to fatherhood much more gracefully than she has to motherhood. He holds the baby’s head in the crook of his arm confidently and rocks him gently back and forth. When you see your best friend become a parent, come talk to me about it. Because as for now, this is all I have to say about the matter. The rest - well, I can’t even contextualize it.


I still have this boy’s blanket for Christ’s sake and I still never think of him. He is so unreal to me. I once thought I was going to marry this boy and most of the time I forget he even exists. He’s just one of those past lives I’ve almost completely lost. When he said, “Charlie Brown blanket,” it took me a minute to think of what he was referencing.


Things have got to change.


I really think I write badly because I feel like I leave out a lot of important details on accident. I forget my audience. My writing is very self-absorbed just like the rest of my life. People have been telling me to “get out of my little bubble” for six years now and I still just don’t get what that really means. I’m always being told “how young” I am. I’m always feeling like whatever emotions I have are so invalid because it’s all just caused by this distorted perception you’re thought to have when you’re a teenager.

I feel like I just lack the fundamentals of being an adult. I have no sense of realism. No sense of responsibility. I’m irrational and impulsive.

I love my mom because she a lot of the time she thinks the exact same way I do. I tell her about Patrick texting me and she says, “He is so weird.” I laugh in my bathroom by myself. Sitting there with the shower running and feeling awesome because not many other people are doing this on a Friday night. Not everyone has a mom who texts them things like that. Not everyone is alone. Not everyone is high. Not everyone is in New York. Not everyone is a girl. Not everyone is nineteen. Not everyone is cynical. Not everyone. Not every one.


The ceiling is dripping! It’s raining on the inside! Time to go go go! Get out of this wretched bathroom.

I wish I still lived in the 90’s before caller I.D. was invented. I would do prank calls all the time.

sunny pictures

Friday, March 26, 2010 | |

I go big or I go home. When I actually decide to do something, I do it with passion. That is until I decide I don’t want to do it anymore. Then I just give up. I only seem to succeed at destroying myself.

I’ve always wanted to be these other people. But I went about it entirely the wrong way. I’ve just been playing characters. I’ve been playing the character of writer or the character of painter or the character of musician but not actually invested time in writing or painting or making music. I have loads of excuses about why I don’t spend my time making art and they all suck.

I think I’m really immature – too immature to be wasting all this money in college. I need to take a year and mature before I decide what I’m going to do.

The first thing I need to do with my life is get the fuck out of this bathroom.

I remember when my friend told me that if I am upset with the way things are in society I should get together with other people who feel the same way and try to change things. She learned all this from her social movements class. I desperately want to be in that class. I’m going to run with this idea. I’m going to get together with people other people who also don’t like the way things currently are and then I’m going to figure out how to change things. Not really in any political way necessarily.

I really miss Soulseek. It was such a community. And sometime’s you’d find really weird and random stuff. And sometimes people would message you and give you music suggestions. And there were so many things you could do. It wasn’t as easy as torrenting but it was way more fun. I miss my PC.

I'm warming up to my roommate's hamster. It's kind of weird because she's nocturnal. I'm glad she's not living in the closet anymore. I feel like she's much happier on the windowsill. I really wonder why my roommate got that hamster. Or why the people down the hall got a snake. Why would anyone want a pet like that? It's just an idea that's totally strange to me. Except fish I understand. Maybe it's because when I was little, fish were the only pet I had besides the traditional cat and dog. Animals that don't recognize you and almost just exist as an accessory creep me out.

I get really caught up in making playlists lately.

More Ramblings from Word Documents

Thursday, March 25, 2010 | |

Need to buy a microcassette recorder. I think I am going to pretend to be someone else for the rest of the semester.

Jon Caldwell is nothing to me. He did not wish me happy birthday so why should I wish him happy birthday? I’m not going to “win him back” because he doesn’t secretly care about me. I need to give the fuck up and move on.

I think I’ll pretend to be a combination of all the people and characters I love the most.

Or perhaps I’ll just be a better version of myself. That is harder to do. I don’t always know “myself.” It’s scary.

I’m hooked on Onra’s Chinoisories in a way that I haven’t been hooked on an album in awhile. But even this obsession is not like the obsessions I had when I was younger. There’s something about listening to music through headphones from a computer or from the computer’s speakers that just ruins music. Music is such a physical thing. I desperately miss my nice stereo set up at home.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hello again from stoner Sam. Sometimes I think in only visuals and sounds but no words.

I like subways and walking and all those little times when you aren’t obligated to be thinking about anything in particular. You aren’t expected to read, or do homework or call your bank about your pin number, or call your mom, or paint, or watch a movie, or visit your friend. You just get to walk.

I just like to lie on the waves of my comforter and sleep or think. I like to sit in my bright dorm room and pretend I’m in the 90’s. I don’t like the real world. I want to make my own world.

I’m always doing six things at once or nothing at all.

Rambling on a Tuesday

Tuesday, March 23, 2010 | |

Sometimes I forget where I am. I hear sirens echoing off the buildings and it’s bright out and I think I’m in a movie. I think I’m in a movie from the 80’s set in New York City. I wish that was real.


I think my life would be better if I were asexual. Actually it would be best if I were an asexual boy. Just imagine never having to have that gut wrenching crush feeling. Never having to feel that one person determines your worth. Never having to feel like you desperately need to be close to a person. Never having to obsess all the time over some one else’s thoughts. Just to be you, existing alone, not influenced by anybody. But maybe asexuality doesn’t even mean that. Maybe being completely hermetic is impossible. Everyone gets lonely. Everyone wants love.

Ramblings from An Airport

| |

Pretty soon my computer will die and I will be alone with my thoughts, which as of lately have been anything but comforting. I’m high above the ground with nothing to look at but clouds and the back of the seat in front of me. I want desperately to listen to music and not have to think. I don’t even have a pen to write with. I want Jon to be here with me and I want desperately to be able to explain to him everything. But that will never happen. Even if he was here I would become silent in his overbearing presence. I would start talking – voicing my silly musings – and he wouldn’t react and I don’t know him well enough to interpret this as boredom or contemplation or something else so I just shut up. Eight minutes left. The plane tilts. I shall fill these eight minutes with incessant typing. I want this summer to be good. I want to live in a place I can call my own and I want to work and I want to break into swimming pools and I want to be confident again. I want to be happy alone – without any man validating my worth. I want to be happy. I want to save up 900 dollars by the end of the year. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it. But it would be nice. I wish I were more responsible. I wish I were Jon. I wonder how much money he has in the bank. I wonder how many hours a week he works. I wonder how much weed he smokes. I wonder how often he drinks. I want to know his habits. I remember showering at his apartment Christmas break and seeing his shower and using one of his towels. I’d come out of the shower and I’d see him still sleeping and I’d be so happy. I’d put on my clothes and yell at him to wake up. I was enthusiastic. I wonder what he thought of me. I wonder what he thinks of me now. I wonder what he thought of me when I was fourteen and talked to him about Thumbsucker. Sometimes I wish I was dead just so my thoughts could be empty of all this. Empty of him and empty of classes I’m failing and all the things I never did and…my computer is going to die any second.

texts to jon from the airport after another weekend of not seeing him

Sunday, March 21, 2010 | |

To: Jon

I cant believe that when 
you were my age i was 
only a junior in high 
school. And i cant imagine 
what it must be like to be 
you. I cant imagine what 
its like to be a 21 year old 
boy. I cant even wrap my 
head around my own life.
I have trouble believing 
my life is even real.

Sent:
Sun Mar 21, 4:52pm

To: Jon

I feel like i've lived so
many lives and been so
many people that i'm 
drowning in it all. I feel
like my identity is
fractured rather than
fluent. I feel like all these
lives exist simutaneously
and i cant decide which
one is the most important
or the one i like the best.

Sent:
Sun Mar 21, 4:55pm

To: Jon

And then to think that
other people mihgt feel
the same way and are
also walking around with 
all these past selves and 
all these experiences so
different from my own
just blows my mind.

Sent:
Sun Mar 21, 4:56pm

To: Jon 

And all i really want is to 
know all of someone else
and have them know all
of me and i really think
that is just an
impossibility because
everything gets lost in
translation from one 
person to the next and i
feel especially from girl
to boy or from upper
class to lower class etc
etc etc

Sent:
Sun Mar 21, 5:01pm

To: Jon

I only understand you in 
retrospect if i even 
understand you at all.

Sent:
Sun Mar 21, 5:24pm







sounds like

Friday, March 19, 2010 | |

itunes on shuffle, wrote whatever came to mind when listening to the song.


You Tore Me Down – Yo La Tengo : sounds like being a child in the 90’s, sounds like walking around Chapel Glen neighborhood in the summer, sounds like Saved by the Bell, sounds like a light sweater, sounds like sun shining through leaves and leaving a pattern of light and shadow on the dirt ground, sounds like ice cream, sounds like when your first love ends, sounds like driving in the car with the windows open.

Blue Thunder – Galaxie 500: sounds like looking at Earth from Mars, sounds like lying in the hot sun and feeling like you’re being cooked, sounds like looking at the sun, sounds like laying in your bed in the summer when you’re inside even though it’s nice out and you’re all alone, sounds like a high school cafeteria, sounds like finding out that everything is going to be okay, sounds like your best friend’s voice through your house phone, sounds like kissing, sounds like driving really fast by yourself, sounds like the middle of the day, sounds like friendly ghosts.

I’m Getting Back Into Getting Back Into You – Silver Jews: sounds like eating cereal, sounds like watching cartoons alone at night, sounds like your friend’s dad, sounds like sound advice, sounds like walking home drunk, sounds like a well-groomed yard, sounds like the suburbs, sounds like middle-aged guys sitting in a record store.

Kennel District – Pavement: sounds like cement (pavement), sounds like your little brother, sounds like waiting for something better, sounds like your dog with his tongue hanging out, sounds like wearing overall shorts, sounds like the creek by my grandma’s house, sounds like railroad tracks, sounds like riding a bike without a helmet, sounds like slipping and falling and scraping your knee, sounds like mud, sounds like your car breaking down, sounds like that one cool teacher you had in high school, sounds like milkshakes.

Lonely Highway – The Magnetic Fields: sounds like being on a train, sounds like looking at fields zooming by, sounds like dry humor, sounds like someone telling you they might still love you but that they just can’t do this anymore, sounds like being perfectly happy to be alone, sounds like drinking coffee and zoning out to the news, sounds like being aloof, sounds like drinking to go to sleep, sounds like travelling alone, sounds like crying quietly, sounds like stained glass windows.

Cast a Shadow – Beat Happening: sounds like being fourteen, sounds like hanging out in a garage, sounds like girly crushes, sounds like being uncertain, sounds like joking around, sounds like trees swaying in the wind, sounds like setting things on fire just for fun, sounds like playgrounds, sounds like exploring caves in the summer, sounds like jumping off of cliffs into a lake, sounds like asking out that person you’ve had your eye on for weeks.

Like a Forest – Low: sounds like leaves falling in the woods, sounds like unresolved problems, sounds like people who love each other but pretend to hate each other, sounds like driving through the country at night, sounds like a child crying, sounds like right before you drift off to sleep and remember something unpleasant, sounds like waking up from a dream you don’t remember but feeling horrible.

Neither of Us, Uncertainly – Deerhunter: sounds like being underwater and looking upward at the sky, sounds like dark, dark water, sounds like being in a church and feeling nothing, sounds like when a plane lifts off and you leave everything you want behind, sounds like a lullaby you sing when you’re too tired to be singing, sounds like an empty fridge, sounds like flying a kite, sounds like storm clouds, sounds like when your ears need to pop, sounds like dusk, sounds like video games, sounds like playing alone as a kid and getting scared of yourself.

Love Delicattssen – The Presidents of the United States of America: sounds like a road trip, sounds like drinking soda in the car in the summer, sounds like Denny’s, sounds like drinking tequila, sounds like bonfires, sounds like grocery stores, sounds like strip malls, sounds like your lover’s dancing, sounds like stealing sunglasses from Target, sounds like slinking down in your seat, sounds like the radio if the radio were everything we want it to be, sounds like flirting, sounds like your parent’s being tipsy, sounds like learning to play an instrument, sounds like turkey sandwiches.

Milk Man – Deerhoof: sounds like teenage girls painting their nails, sounds like sneaking out, sounds like mischievous smiling, sounds like Japan, sounds like fuzzy slippers, sounds like a cat sleeping in the sun, sounds like green grass, sounds like a warm bath, sounds like waking up from a nap feeling refreshed, sounds like when you’re anticipating something good, sounds like fantastical animals mating, sounds like five year olds kissing, sounds like walking past little shops in the summer, sounds like small towns, sounds like a group of giggling teenagers in short shorts, sounds like the public pool, sounds like playing pranks, sounds like flirting with the pizza delivery boy, sounds like lying to your mom.

Bowels of the Best – The Raveonettes: sounds like a knife fight, sounds like leather jackets, sounds like lights of buildings at night, sounds like being drunk alone in your room, sounds like all your hate, sounds like the homeless woman on the corner who stares at you with her accusatory junkie eyes, sounds like feeling guilty, sounds like the moment after you’ve punched a wall, sounds like taking a shower at night, sounds like insomnia, sounds like when your foot falls asleep, sounds like making out with someone you don’t like.

Warm Weather ("I can make it through and you can too")

Thursday, March 18, 2010 | |

frosties, Union Square teeming with people, Ishita in a dress and me in my shorts, Max and his sax headed to Central Park, open windows, the smell of spring and a clean bathroom, only having to go to work for five hours, Bob Dylan, forgetting about my lost iPod, sitting in my underwear, shroud of winter darkness finally leaving me, Indiana by one tomorrow, "time is a jet plane it moves too fast", laughing at the bank - making the tellers smile and jest, sun sun sun here it comes, beautiful 70 degrees day, pretending to live alone, kids playing in the churchyard, time to get ready for work and even though I don't mind going I would love to go to the park instead and sit there all day watching everyone and soaking up the sun.

2:16 am

Tuesday, March 16, 2010 | |

No one to talk to this late. My friend is asleep and I'm in her room because I hate my own, watching TV and wishing I was asleep. I call and text some people but there's no answer.

I feel listless. I want weed. I want to go home but I have to wait until Friday because I have to work and even then I'll only be home until Sunday.

Rainy Day

Friday, March 12, 2010 | |

No class for me. Didn't go to any yesterday either. I'm looking at my "Top 25 Most Played" on iTunes and realized that since I've only had this computer for a couple months so it's all been stuff I've listened to recently. On my old computer my Top 25 were always songs that I had been obsessed with like a year ago. It's just fun to see the songs I was more recently obsessed with. Most of them were just on this mix I made. The top three are Age of Consent by New Order, Blue Thunder by Galaxie 500, and Distortions by Clinic.

I never feel like I have enough information to complete things. When I'm writing papers I always feel like I don't have enough information to support my argument and it would takes years for me to acquire that information. It even happens at times when I'm making mixes. I think, 'There's a song out there that would sound perfect next and I just haven't heard it yet. I'm imagining it in my mind vaguely...but I've never heard it.'

Anyways, I have to go get off my lazy ass and get food.

Dear blog,

Tuesday, March 9, 2010 | |

I was just thinking that I really don't appreciate you very much. I'm sorry about that - doubt it will change though. I remember I used to really value my xanga. What makes you so much less significant? Age? Then why do I still keep you up occasionally? Why do I feel the need to voice my inner thoughts over the interweb?


The world will never know.


Still, you are something I created so I guess I must have some kind of attachment to you. Perhaps when (if) I read you later in life I'll feel more fondly about you. As of now, I have no real feelings about you. Now I shall go do my homework.


Apathetically yours,


Sam

Hello.

| |

I work 30 hours a week in the douchiest store in history. I smoke weed in my bathroom and try to hide it from my roommate. I don't go to class. I cram for exams. I write papers in an hour or two. I don't get drunk as often as I used to. I don't "go out." I spent my last Saturday night working til 11 and then coming home and passing out after only one and a half episodes of The Simpsons. I like to spend my time alone. I don't care what anyone thinks. I have no goals, no aspirations. I enjoy pacifying activities - like watching T.V. and getting stoned or drunk or eating. I don't like to think. I take the subway twice a day on days that I work. It's an experience I can't describe (I mean specifically the feeling of doing this every day.) I work every day this week except Thursday. On Wednesday night I hope to be belligerently drunk but to pass out before 2 AM. I am busy. I feel more isolated than ever. But I am okay.

How the fuck

Saturday, March 6, 2010 | |

did I get right back to the same place I started?

It's a possibility

Thursday, March 4, 2010 | |

that I'm failing a lot of classes. Well maybe just one, but two of my four classes are non-major art classes and therefore super easy. And I hate my job. And I feel like I might just be really dumb and no one ever decided to tell me. They all let me believe I was so smart for so long and now I'm realizing it's all a lie. Yeah, I think that's probably the truth.

And I don't care about anything and I can't wait to to get out of here.

I'm just as suprised as you.

Monday, March 1, 2010 | |

I feel like I'm coming out of darkness I thought was impenetrable. I feel untouchable. I feel like the old Sam is coming back - the Sam that doesn't care what anyone thinks of her, the old Sam who is not worrying or nervous.

I still hate. But that hate is mine and not theirs. I take it and I put it into everything I do. I stand alone but am no longer lonely.

I'm getting out of here. I'm leaving this behind.

Zoloft

Thursday, February 25, 2010 | |

To be or not to be? That is always the question.

Today

Tuesday, February 23, 2010 | |

I looked at the 90s Music list iTunes generates and it was pretty much all my favorite artists. Then I realized I would be perfectly happy without any of the music created after that.


Fuck this era.

I think maybe

Saturday, February 20, 2010 | |

terrible, terrible things have happened. I have a splitting headache and I woke up alone even though I didn't fall asleep that way (or was that all a dream).


I think I'll lock myself in my room forever for real this time.  There's nothing for me in the social realm.  Goddamn this headache and the fact that I only probably slept for four hours and can't go back to sleep.

My life has taken on a new level of surreality.

Monday, February 15, 2010 | |

Honestly, I have no idea what's going on.

On Lonliness and Growing Up

Tuesday, February 9, 2010 | |

I don't think you truly realize how alone you are until you're 18, 19, maybe even 20. It takes coming home to a dorm room (or an apartment) and realizing you have no one to call, no one to talk to about your day or to comfort you. You are left alone completely with yourself - no distractions. That's when you put on the music really loud (screw your sleeping neighbors) or watch TV or DVDs (or if you're really brave you could try reading).

And you long for a connection. You long for companionship that doesn't seem to exist, or is fleeting, or is unstable. All your relationships are somehow new, even with old friends. They stand unsteadily - legs wobbling with inexperience. We're all noobz to put it in internet terms.

At this time it's best not to withdraw as much as you ache to just curl up into a little ball and give up. Make those relationships stand confidently. Push past the awkwardness, push past the insecurities. I don't know how I'm advising anything because I'm still experiencing it all myself.

I just know that being alone is hard. So don't push away the few people who are trying to be your friends.

Today as I was walking along 10th street past this church the little kids were out playing and there was this one little boy - waifish, pale, and thin - who stared at me in the most honest way. I waved and he didn't even seem to notice me. He was perfect.

I miss Jon. I miss Jon. I miss Jon. There I said it. When some one takes over your thoughts for almost three years it's hard to get them out of there. It's hard, man.

This year has been hard. Things aren't going to be easy anymore. You can't rely on your mommy to make it all better or even to be able to try any longer. You can't rely on anyone. You can barely even rely on yourself. Over this year I have questioned every aspect of myself. I sit in bed at times just analyzing every facet of my personality and all my actions. I ponder my adolescence and try to trace through time how everything got this way.

And you know what I've found is really that it's all pretty random. Life is chaos. A chaos we are always trying to categorize and control. I want to be out of control. I want someone to tell me the way and for me to "see the light." It happened a bit today. I was sitting in a Brooklyn loft with guys (thank the Lord I was with actual boys for once), drinking a beer and listening to all the conversations when the guy next to me says something. "What?" I ask. And he answers, "If you drop out of NYU, you should go to Portland." It felt so right. Perhaps I'll go to school there so that people can't say I'm ruining my life but I can't stay here in NYC. One girl I'd been friends with at the beginning of the year says she thinks that I'm the kind that will travel, be in a lot of places. It may be true and if I'm miserable here I might as well leave. Start over. Beginnings are the best. Another one of the boys told me that transferring was one of the best things that ever happened to him.

I have to live for myself. I'm not here for myself anymore. I'm here to hold up an image, to make people proud or to prove them wrong. But fuck everyone. Right?

Also, this is my dream bike. I see it in various places on 10th street.


I want to...

| |

1. Live in Portland.

2. Rent an apartment.

3. Have a puppy.

4. Not be in college.

5. Work as a waitress.

6. Own a little motorcycle.

7. Learn to play the drums.

8. Start/join a band.

9. Buy a four-track recorder.

10. Have a nice VHS and CD collection.

Is this too much to ask for?

"Do you find this happens all the time?"

Monday, February 1, 2010 | |

I'm in one of those moods where every song seems to be speaking to me and I want to skip class and forget my homework and listen to music alllllll day and alllll night. And draw and paint and read and write and watch movies and learn the things that I want to learn. I don't want to go to class and sit silently and let the hate build up inside me.


Won't you please let me go
These words lie inside they hurt me so
And I'm not the kind that likes to tell you
Just what I want to do
I'm not the kind that needs to tell you
Just what you want me to

I saw you this morning
I thought that you might like to know
I received your message in full a few days ago
I understood every word that it said
And now that I've actually heard it
You're going to regret

And I'm not the kind that likes to tell you
Just what you want me to
You're not the kind that needs to tell me
About the birds and the bees

Do you find this happens all the time
Crucial point one day becomes a crime
And I'm not the kind that likes to tell you
Just what I want to do
I'm not the kind that needs to tell you

I've lost you (x5)
I've lost you (x5)

going crazy is when

Saturday, January 30, 2010 | |

you call someone over twenty times. you think after the fourth or fifth time you'd give up. but then something else takes over and you just keep calling hoping you'll eat away at their resistance and that they'll eventually pick up at least just to tell you to stop fucking calling them. and then when that doesn't work you send them all kinds of messages trying to get some reaction.

then when none of that works you watch TV instead of just staring at the ceiling or out the window in between desperate attempts to contact the person. but it's just a cheap distraction. your muscles are weak, your eyes hurt from crying. you think no one understands you. you remember when your cousin said no one understood him, five years ago in the graveyard. you think of him now - fat, pathetic, alone. you cry some more. you send some more text messages. you turn off you phone for awhile but even that only works for a half hour or so. it's like an addiction. you come to like the sound of the answering machine and the feeling of imminent rejection as the phone rings. you no longer have any hope for an answer.

maybe you finally eat something at five o clock. but instead of it making you feel nourished you just feel sick and your stomach turns into knots. there might be a knock at the door but you don't get up to look, you just keep watching TV. you think you'll just hole yourself up in your room forever but secretly you want someone to come and keep you company. but who would want to sit in the presence of such misery? who would want to look at something so pathetic? so weak? so disgusting? certainly not anyone sane.

this is when you give up. you look at the dishes in the sink (most of them not even yours), the overflowing trash, the undone laundry, your homework, all your roommate's shit strewn on the floor, and you just give up.

you just give up and watch TV and ignore your stomach ache and hope the one person you want to talk to will call you back. and that's really the most crazy part. you still hope that they call. because if you don't hold on to that, what do you have really?

i resign

Wednesday, January 27, 2010 | |

before this turns into me bitching about how much i hate it here and how much i hate humanity. because that's really all i have to say these days. i'm pretty boring.

"i used to care but things have changed "

Saturday, January 2, 2010 | |

i look at this blog everyday trying to think of something to write and i always just draw a blank. i have really stopped caring about everything including writing. i no longer even feel guilty for not writing or drawing  or reading. i just want to watch movies all the time and i'm perfectly okay with that. i also no longer feel bad about doing drugs or not making an effort to hang out with people. i just don't care. 

i want to escape. i don't want to go back to college. i want to get on a bus and "disa-fucking-ppear." but i don't even know where i would go.

i've always been a dreamer. when i'm bored i always just make up stories in my mind and most of the time they're about my own life. but now when i try i just get frustrated. i've lost any optimism i once had and can no longer even dream of a "happily ever after." i don't even know what that ending would look like.

i'm too apathetic at this point to even be sad and that's the part that's really annoying. i wish i could feel that debilitating sadness instead of just feeling absolutely nothing.