(no subject)

I am making my teacher run all over the place for information as to what's going on with his current class and their connections to the one from two years ago. I'm going on the record to say there is no cheating, but notes have been passed, and this has been helpful to us in sundry ways. 

I am trying to integrate my left and right brains. At this point, I am supposed to do two upside-down drawings.

There is one "matter-of-fact" girl in my class.

I have some weird reactions to the medical field, and I have to get used to it. By any means necessary. By all means, actually.

Literally need to shift perception to control the voices that like to tell me stuff that gets really really annoying.

I am plus or minus horrible at drawing. I am sure it will make me smarter, though. The neuropsychologist said so.

I have to look up the candida diet. Man I am a fucked up individual. BUT I have to be normal. I am so so proud of being in the system enough to have support from peeps and drugs that are so much fun. Except when I can't think. That's less positive.


pissed with the store

     Last time it had been so. Easy. They were in a car and dipping beneath the horizon on a summer day that spoke of tennis shoes and cigarettes, possible vomiting into the grating in front of the car’s air ventilation system.
     Janie was crabby. The last time she’d had any water was three or four days ago. The clerk could tell, too. She knew it was going to trigger the fall, a seizure, something animalistic or numb in her that never ended until she passed out from heat exhaustion or inhaling pretzel salt.
     The teacher was only boring once. He could drone on and she would be happy as a lobster. Straifing runs, they called it. They moved things from one location to another, and that was their JOB. 
     She handed her glasses to Tim so he could bottle them with the blue cleaner. Where were you this morning before noon, she wondered, when I had all that coffee and nobody to drink it with me? Why do I think I should be paranoid? Why do I try so hard to love?
The teacher wasn’t trying. Janie pressed on her carotid bifurcation. Cough, like she was supposed to event though Tim said rude. His phone number, but he saw her earlier in the morning, but still five minutes late was too late even for her.
     If she added up all the cost of the materials, counted all the calories, and counted all the seconds waiting for the spiraling daisy of waiting on the computer, she knew what he said was anathema to what she actually was. He said she was that, though. Pick a side, she thought. Stop playing me for a fool.



"The terrible violence of the 20th century holds a lesson for the 21st. It is that a steadily & irreversibly widening sphere, violence; is always a mark of human failure and a bringer of sorrow, has not also become dysfunctional, as a political instrument. Increasingly, it destroys the end for which it is employed..."
from Unconquerable World

seven months

A really really long time ago, I had some strange ideas about food. I stopped eating... anyway, that was like ten years ago, and I have to eat on the regular or I become a crazed animal. Just sayin. You heard about the ski lift at sugarloaf collapsing, and five cars(carts) fell, and they had to belay rescue the others? Reminds me of that story in the new yorker: "Drip on"(or something akin to that)..."Acknowledged."~that story in the new yorker. Anyway, that guy I met, and realized two weeks later is the bomb, was all like, "eat," and I was all like, "I will, dumbass," even though my medication makes my appetite erratic. I just can't eat for 20-30 minutes after or before I take it, and it seems to be fine. What do they put in it, extra nervousness? It's like being on weed but not high. It's all too clear. Oh, a joke: "Send me a postcard." "All right." : )
So how do I bring up things without explicating?

"lost giririririrls"

I think he might have just asked me out. Even though I embarassed myself in front of him, via not paying attention to what I was chewing, via food isn't that interesting. Oh shit!
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You mean, "cottons."

I wrote down one of my oldest dreams, and it was only 137 words. Dream stuff feels different than everything else. A man picked up a toy schoolbus and said, "do you ride this bus to school, or the short bus?" That and the other quote actually happened. the sheep goddess, not so much.

ok, wow

You have no idea what goes on behind closed doors, or in this case, gauze wrapper booty shorts. Today I mean The Human Centipede. I didn't want to see it, but I didn't want to miss out. I spent the first half praying the mad crazy doctor (with two cephalic veins in his right arm?) wouldn't make the monster, and the second half wishing we could undo it. The makeup is realistic, prompting me to exclaim, "she's cyanotic," like I thought we were in the ER. I fast forwarded through a lot of parts.

She said, "nice excuse for a paper."

I was late again. I sat outside the classroom door rather than go inside. Like last time, someone else came along and we went in together. Before I got there, the instructor expressed displeasure about our physics papers. We forgot to cite our sources. I cited everything, but I forgot to write a paper. I give it an A for effort and a B for content. Contents includes a missing quotation mark, some idiosyncratic footnoting, and mad dramatic irony.

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