one.

I have always felt a vague apprehension towards blogging, worried that it will just become a day-by-day account of my life, or someone elses life, or perhaps a a quasi-artistic meditation on god knows what. However through the stubborness of procrastination, another sleepless morning approaching, and perhaps a dash on vanity I have made the final cultural assimilation into my generation: here are my words, rambles, musings, tid-bits and scraps.


Introductions have never been a strength of mine, and conclusions tend to be worse. However, I hear the middle parts are sometimes interesting. But you can't very well get to the middle without and introduction, proper or otherwise. So here are some things that make me particularly happy, as pleasure is often overlooked in blogs (at least that I've read).

• Rolling down hills. The "thump thump thump" of your limbs and head hitting the dirt at different times and angles. The smell and taste of freshly cut grass (or dried clippings) that cling to you like cigarettes. If there is one particular activity that defines summertime, it's this. And an active participant in my chronic "mysterious bruise syndrom"



• Words. How a slight rearangement connotates a drastic difference in meaning. The loopholes, anatomy, sound, sensation, and symbol of these abstractions. Using them and reading them. During fits of procrastination I've been reading "The Function and Field of Speech and Language in Psychoanalysis" by Jacques Lacan, and it's probably the reason that I won't finish any of the papers for any of my classes.
  
• Those nights that end in mornings, that can never be recreated, and that always consist of a Sheetz run and my torso half way out the window speeding down route 5 screaming Pearl Jam.
• Stars.
• Exploring woodlands and getting lost.
• harmonicas, banjos, mandolins, and murder ballads.
• twelve strings, six strings, slides and gutteral howls.
• grilled cheese sandwiches.
• The following women: Bertha Capan Reynolds, Nawal El-Saadawi, Patti Smith, Katie-Jane Garside, Zora Neale Hurston, H.D., Isabelle Allende, Courtney Love (judge all you want, she probably writes better lyrics than you), Marya Hornbacher, Germaine Greer, Judith Butler, Maya Deren, Iris Marion Young
• The following men: BOB DYLAN, T.S. Eliot, Franz Kafka, Marcel Duchamp, William Faulkner, Arther Rimbaud, Carl Jung, Slavoj Zizek, Jean Cocteau, Louis Althusser, Louis Bunuel, Jean-Paul Sartre, Blind Willie McTell, Son House, Skip James, Woody Guthrie, John Steinbeck
• American Moderist literature/poetry/manifestos
• camp fires, and how the smell of burnt cedar never washes out
• Watching the sun rise
• Being with the people that I love, and who love me, and all the warmth from those interactions
• wearing childrens clothing (without people even realizing)
• tin types, memento mori, and high collared blouses
• make-believe, dress-up, glitter, bubbles, and coloring books
• making lists.

I'm going to make this a place for positivity.

There is just too little of it left in our generation, and yes the world is a scary place right now, but complaining won't fix it. I have very very very little to complain about in my own life, so this shall henceforth me a whine free zone. (this doesn't mean I won't bring up injustices or oppression from time to time, in fact I will most of the time, but any complaints about my personal life? Why bore you?)

peace,

C.