21.9.09
my weakness
i lied in my last post. i was able to resist temptation for about 8 hours, but in the end my shoe whore self won and i bought the boots. today they came in the mail, and i must say, TOTALLY WORTH IT!! i think these have got to be my new favourite shoes. i wish i could just go back in time to the 80s to steal all of their clothes.
17.9.09
will work for shoes
...more specifically THESE shoes
vintage leather and lace boots, IN MY SIZE!! so why am i not buying? because im practicing will power. that and i know i wont be able to eat until next tuesday if i do. if it was up to me id have those along with these
vintage leather and lace boots, IN MY SIZE!! so why am i not buying? because im practicing will power. that and i know i wont be able to eat until next tuesday if i do. if it was up to me id have those along with these
but i will resist...time to go thrifting again!
(YAY!)
ALSO, just bought lace leotard because it was super cute and super cheap and the perfect match for my new tulle skirt(another reason i cant buy shoes) BUT THERE IS NO LINING!! (misleading much internet? i say yes) so NOW i get to sew one in myself (didnt i fail that class?) mostcomplicatedDIYihaveeverattemptedinmylife
umm, online shopping FAIL.
POINT IS i am growing and taking a step back to keep my wants separate from my needs (ie, attending class even though my eye feels like it is about to explode out of its socket) even if it does mean having to say no to clothes (gasp! DeLano saying no to clothes?) which is very difficult especially since NYFW was this week. lucky for me, it looks like alot of stuff i can adapt. LOVING that crop tops and vintage are totally back in (not like they ever left but whatev.)
on a none fashion note, i managed to rockstar an audition this week. call backs sunday!! :) and auditions coming up for little dog laughed as well! (would be lovely if i could find a copy of the script before then.) it is going to be a very full but exciting semester for moi!
10.9.09
why i hate pink
today i got pink eye. besides the fact that this is the most disgusting case of pink eye i have ever gotten, it also ruined my goal of making it an entire semester without missing a class. i didnt have to miss class, im just that considerate. ill probably have to miss work tomorrow too, old people being way susceptible to infections and all. whatevs. twill be nice to have a day off for the first time since the semester started.
its alot more difficult than i thought, doing school and work full time.
this goes on top of my busted lip that i got during acting class on tuesday when ethan hit me in the face with a chair. its a somewhat-dangerous career choice.
on a brighter note, im mildly talented with paint. so if the stage thing doesnt work out, i have a back-up with just as much monetary potential (sarcas). this is my first, almost but not quite finished, watercolour painting EVER.
ya, total high hopes for that one.
bill and i saw 9 last night (had to hit it on 9/9/9 in theatre 9). LOVED IT!!! btw, this is bill.
youll hear about him way lotta-lotta. hes the one from the poem (yesterday) which was written as an acting class assignment. he went to LA but got scammed by his roomies so now hes back with me in flagstaff.
back to 9. definitely wasnt what i was expecting out of tim burton but totally awesome film. i found it heartwarming, especially after disastrous forest party (wont go there). if you havent seen it, go see it. if you arent planning on seeing it, go see it anyway. it is also on my list of tattoos i want (7 and 9 on one calf to counteract peace on the other). yes, its that good.
by the way, i dont actually hate pink, im just angry at it right now.
its alot more difficult than i thought, doing school and work full time.
this goes on top of my busted lip that i got during acting class on tuesday when ethan hit me in the face with a chair. its a somewhat-dangerous career choice.
on a brighter note, im mildly talented with paint. so if the stage thing doesnt work out, i have a back-up with just as much monetary potential (sarcas). this is my first, almost but not quite finished, watercolour painting EVER.
ya, total high hopes for that one.
bill and i saw 9 last night (had to hit it on 9/9/9 in theatre 9). LOVED IT!!! btw, this is bill.
youll hear about him way lotta-lotta. hes the one from the poem (yesterday) which was written as an acting class assignment. he went to LA but got scammed by his roomies so now hes back with me in flagstaff.back to 9. definitely wasnt what i was expecting out of tim burton but totally awesome film. i found it heartwarming, especially after disastrous forest party (wont go there). if you havent seen it, go see it. if you arent planning on seeing it, go see it anyway. it is also on my list of tattoos i want (7 and 9 on one calf to counteract peace on the other). yes, its that good.
by the way, i dont actually hate pink, im just angry at it right now.
Cigarettes and Second Chances
Bill and I sit on the porch
in our usual places.
Last night’s air was full of snow
and now it lies clear and bright
in the morning sun. we smoke
cigarettes. not sure how many.
our cigarettes never go out,
the red glow of the ember
a spot of warmth against
the frosty air. To the right
of us lies a cemetery.
We like to walk there alone
sometimes, in silence,
No sound reaching our ears
but the ominous crunching of
snow beneath our cold feet.
We smoke then too.
When we are together,
there always seems to be
a cigarette in hand.
he is my bad habit.
We walk among the tombstones
without the sounds of the world
to disturb our peace;
no cars, no planes, no human voices
but our own.
It is just us and the worms.
Sometimes we speak and then
the worms forgive us, but mostly
we just walk in silence,
the gravestones rising out of
the snow around us.
But we are not there today.
Today we just sit together
Side by side on his bench,
Me on the left, our bodies
Slightly huddled against
The cold. The smoke rises
With the steam of our breath.
It is impossible to tell
Where one ends and the next
Begins as they rise together
And slowly disappear,
Just as it is impossible
To tell the edge
Of one day against the next.
We have sat here for
Minutes, hours, days, years,
Whole millennia have passed
As we sit and smoke
Our cigarettes contently together.
We speak, but not what needs
To be said. That will take more
Courage than we can muster,
More time than we can find.
So strange how plentiful
Time may seem to those without
An agenda or pending end!
So strange how time abandons
Us…Time is running out.
Our cigarettes are running out,
Too. We sit, together ignoring
This fact, hoping it will Correct itself.
Bill and I met through cigarettes,
At a party, back when the plants
On his porch were green
And the metal lady stood
In the corner watching
As birds perched on her
Elegant shoulders and breast.
All of these things are gone now;
The parties, the green, the silver lady,
All have disappeared slowly
As Bill prepared to leave.
Now it is just us left, alone,
With our cigarettes and the snow
And the clear blue morning
And the birds still visiting,
Sitting on the rail.
It has been 6 months
Since I first came to stay.
This is not my home
But I think my home has
Forgotten my name, my bed
Forgotten the shape of
My body. I do return there,
But at night, this is where
I find my rest. Together,
We fill our night with
Music, movies, general mayhem.
We explore the town together,
Searching for the perfect bar
Where we can escape reality.
Some nights are more simple.
We sit in silence reading.
Bill is writing a book,
I like to think that
I am his muse,
That being there is enough
To inspire his ideas.
Me and the cigarettes.
Both of us have quit.
Even as we sit in this lie,
So obvious to the morning air
We still insist on this fact.
Smoking doesn’t count
When we are together. It is
Our secret, our guilty pleasure,
Our eternal connection to each other.
Bill exists in each cigarette
That I bring up to my cold
Shivering lips. He rises with
The smoke every time I exhale.
It is my way of having him here
With me after he is long gone.
How romantic, he says
Sarcastically as a match
Flares into life between
His fingers. This is it.
Like a gentleman, he lights
My cigarette first, shielding
The flame of the match from
The wind beyond the porch.
The smell of sulfur plays inside
Of my nostrils, trying to coax
A sneeze out of me. I hold it in,
Not wanting to ruin these
Final moments. Now we sit
In silent simplicity together,
No words, just our two
Bodies bundled on a bench,
Our breathing the only sound
As we expel the smoke
From Our lungs. He is
Full of fear; fear of failure,
Fear of the unknown,
Fear of being alone. I am
Full of fear as well,
But a different type of fear.
What will I do without him?
What will he do without me?
I fear because I can no longer
Be there to help him through
The tough times he is about
To face, I can no longer be
His muse, I can no longer
Come running when the world
Crashes down.
His fear is more Legitimate than mine.
Our cigarettes are halfway
Gone. I have been crying
For quite some time now
So I continue to look
Straight ahead. I know that
He knows anyway, just as i
Know he is doing the same.
The seconds reach out beyond,
Beyond the edge of the porch,
beyond sunrises And sunsets,
beyond the turn of oceans’ tide,
beyond the birth and death
of stars and atoms,
and the smoke rising
from our lips. Time stretches
beyond oblivion just for us.
And suddenly time kicks
Back into full swing once
More. We have smoked all
But one cigarette we save,
The ones in our hands have
All but gone out. With a flick,
Bill sends his butt flying
Over the rail and down to
The unknown lying below.
Mine is less successful,
Bouncing off of the steel
In a marvelous fountain
Of sparks, as though
Even the cigarette does not
Want any of this to end.
But all things must end.
We sit a few more seconds.
It is time and we both know it.
Wiping his face, Bill slowly
Stands and stretches, grunting
As he fights the cold out of
His muscles. It is still silent.
Entering the apartment one
Last time, Bill returns with
Tobey, his faithful cat
And only companion for
The new journey he is
About to embark on.
We descend the steps,
Zig-zagging down the building.
Three flights.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
Two flights.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
One flight
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
Half a flight
1
2
3
4
…
5
…
6
…
7
…
8
We reach the bottom with
A few last grudging steps.
Tobey the cat is dumped
Unceremoniously into
The passenger’s seat,
He mews ungraciously
Before curling up,
Already half asleep.
This is it. Tears stream
Down my face as I
See the same reflected
On his own. We can not
Delay any longer, there is
A long, lonely drive ahead.
We hug, holding each other
Close as if that will keep
The moment from passing.
We whisper in
Each other’s ear, secrets
And promises that we know
Will be kept. With a kiss
On the cheek, I let him go.
Somebody mutters an
I love you
Though im not sure who,
The tears make it difficult
To sort anything out.
But it doesn’t matter who,
We both know its true,
Have both said it
A hundred times before,
Will both say it
A hundred times again.
The phrase hangs between us
Before dropping to the snow
With our tears.
Bill opens the door and slowly
Gets into his car.
We both take the last cigarette
Out of our packs,
The ones we had saved
For the final farewell,
And put them to our lips.
With frozen fingers
We light them, inhaling.
It is time to leave.
I stand watching
As the door closes and Bill
Finally pulls away,
My cigarette forgotten in
My hand. Goodbye I mutter
Before turning away
For the long, lonely walk home.
in our usual places.
Last night’s air was full of snow
and now it lies clear and bright
in the morning sun. we smoke
cigarettes. not sure how many.
our cigarettes never go out,
the red glow of the ember
a spot of warmth against
the frosty air. To the right
of us lies a cemetery.
We like to walk there alone
sometimes, in silence,
No sound reaching our ears
but the ominous crunching of
snow beneath our cold feet.
We smoke then too.
When we are together,
there always seems to be
a cigarette in hand.
he is my bad habit.
We walk among the tombstones
without the sounds of the world
to disturb our peace;
no cars, no planes, no human voices
but our own.
It is just us and the worms.
Sometimes we speak and then
the worms forgive us, but mostly
we just walk in silence,
the gravestones rising out of
the snow around us.
But we are not there today.
Today we just sit together
Side by side on his bench,
Me on the left, our bodies
Slightly huddled against
The cold. The smoke rises
With the steam of our breath.
It is impossible to tell
Where one ends and the next
Begins as they rise together
And slowly disappear,
Just as it is impossible
To tell the edge
Of one day against the next.
We have sat here for
Minutes, hours, days, years,
Whole millennia have passed
As we sit and smoke
Our cigarettes contently together.
We speak, but not what needs
To be said. That will take more
Courage than we can muster,
More time than we can find.
So strange how plentiful
Time may seem to those without
An agenda or pending end!
So strange how time abandons
Us…Time is running out.
Our cigarettes are running out,
Too. We sit, together ignoring
This fact, hoping it will Correct itself.
Bill and I met through cigarettes,
At a party, back when the plants
On his porch were green
And the metal lady stood
In the corner watching
As birds perched on her
Elegant shoulders and breast.
All of these things are gone now;
The parties, the green, the silver lady,
All have disappeared slowly
As Bill prepared to leave.
Now it is just us left, alone,
With our cigarettes and the snow
And the clear blue morning
And the birds still visiting,
Sitting on the rail.
It has been 6 months
Since I first came to stay.
This is not my home
But I think my home has
Forgotten my name, my bed
Forgotten the shape of
My body. I do return there,
But at night, this is where
I find my rest. Together,
We fill our night with
Music, movies, general mayhem.
We explore the town together,
Searching for the perfect bar
Where we can escape reality.
Some nights are more simple.
We sit in silence reading.
Bill is writing a book,
I like to think that
I am his muse,
That being there is enough
To inspire his ideas.
Me and the cigarettes.
Both of us have quit.
Even as we sit in this lie,
So obvious to the morning air
We still insist on this fact.
Smoking doesn’t count
When we are together. It is
Our secret, our guilty pleasure,
Our eternal connection to each other.
Bill exists in each cigarette
That I bring up to my cold
Shivering lips. He rises with
The smoke every time I exhale.
It is my way of having him here
With me after he is long gone.
How romantic, he says
Sarcastically as a match
Flares into life between
His fingers. This is it.
Like a gentleman, he lights
My cigarette first, shielding
The flame of the match from
The wind beyond the porch.
The smell of sulfur plays inside
Of my nostrils, trying to coax
A sneeze out of me. I hold it in,
Not wanting to ruin these
Final moments. Now we sit
In silent simplicity together,
No words, just our two
Bodies bundled on a bench,
Our breathing the only sound
As we expel the smoke
From Our lungs. He is
Full of fear; fear of failure,
Fear of the unknown,
Fear of being alone. I am
Full of fear as well,
But a different type of fear.
What will I do without him?
What will he do without me?
I fear because I can no longer
Be there to help him through
The tough times he is about
To face, I can no longer be
His muse, I can no longer
Come running when the world
Crashes down.
His fear is more Legitimate than mine.
Our cigarettes are halfway
Gone. I have been crying
For quite some time now
So I continue to look
Straight ahead. I know that
He knows anyway, just as i
Know he is doing the same.
The seconds reach out beyond,
Beyond the edge of the porch,
beyond sunrises And sunsets,
beyond the turn of oceans’ tide,
beyond the birth and death
of stars and atoms,
and the smoke rising
from our lips. Time stretches
beyond oblivion just for us.
And suddenly time kicks
Back into full swing once
More. We have smoked all
But one cigarette we save,
The ones in our hands have
All but gone out. With a flick,
Bill sends his butt flying
Over the rail and down to
The unknown lying below.
Mine is less successful,
Bouncing off of the steel
In a marvelous fountain
Of sparks, as though
Even the cigarette does not
Want any of this to end.
But all things must end.
We sit a few more seconds.
It is time and we both know it.
Wiping his face, Bill slowly
Stands and stretches, grunting
As he fights the cold out of
His muscles. It is still silent.
Entering the apartment one
Last time, Bill returns with
Tobey, his faithful cat
And only companion for
The new journey he is
About to embark on.
We descend the steps,
Zig-zagging down the building.
Three flights.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
Two flights.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
One flight
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
Half a flight
1
2
3
4
…
5
…
6
…
7
…
8
We reach the bottom with
A few last grudging steps.
Tobey the cat is dumped
Unceremoniously into
The passenger’s seat,
He mews ungraciously
Before curling up,
Already half asleep.
This is it. Tears stream
Down my face as I
See the same reflected
On his own. We can not
Delay any longer, there is
A long, lonely drive ahead.
We hug, holding each other
Close as if that will keep
The moment from passing.
We whisper in
Each other’s ear, secrets
And promises that we know
Will be kept. With a kiss
On the cheek, I let him go.
Somebody mutters an
I love you
Though im not sure who,
The tears make it difficult
To sort anything out.
But it doesn’t matter who,
We both know its true,
Have both said it
A hundred times before,
Will both say it
A hundred times again.
The phrase hangs between us
Before dropping to the snow
With our tears.
Bill opens the door and slowly
Gets into his car.
We both take the last cigarette
Out of our packs,
The ones we had saved
For the final farewell,
And put them to our lips.
With frozen fingers
We light them, inhaling.
It is time to leave.
I stand watching
As the door closes and Bill
Finally pulls away,
My cigarette forgotten in
My hand. Goodbye I mutter
Before turning away
For the long, lonely walk home.
9.9.09
Getting Started
my acting teacher gave us the daily assignment of writing down our observations in a journal for the class. these observations could be about anything, but i found that all of mine were not observations, but rather random thoughts that just needed to get out of my head. so they are going here instead. prepare for the random, world.
a bit about me: i am a theatre student, formerly a theatre major, but no longer qualified for lack of major. this is my second run at college. the first ended in a political blow-up and a perfect line of flags. now, after a brief break, i am venturing into the world of community college, a lovely place where you can take whatever classes you want. among these for me is my second try at acting 1, a class it shouldnt be possible to fail, but i managed it. im great at achieving the impossible.
i work as a server at a retirement comunity. you will probly hear alot about that here. it is my 3rd restaurant job in a row, quite fitting since i was majoring in waitressing (insert lame cymbol crash).
what else do you need to know?...im an aquarius. 20 years old. used to go by the name Erin Grabski, but so did half of flagstaff before they turned 21. now i only get to go to bars when i get lucky, or pull one of my connections. but i miss the freedom of being able to go whenever i wanted. i would like to call myself an aspiring actress, but that has such a negetive connotation that i wont. im a thespian. not a lesbian. im a bohemian. and i have absolutely no idea what i am doing with my life.
a bit about me: i am a theatre student, formerly a theatre major, but no longer qualified for lack of major. this is my second run at college. the first ended in a political blow-up and a perfect line of flags. now, after a brief break, i am venturing into the world of community college, a lovely place where you can take whatever classes you want. among these for me is my second try at acting 1, a class it shouldnt be possible to fail, but i managed it. im great at achieving the impossible.
i work as a server at a retirement comunity. you will probly hear alot about that here. it is my 3rd restaurant job in a row, quite fitting since i was majoring in waitressing (insert lame cymbol crash).
what else do you need to know?...im an aquarius. 20 years old. used to go by the name Erin Grabski, but so did half of flagstaff before they turned 21. now i only get to go to bars when i get lucky, or pull one of my connections. but i miss the freedom of being able to go whenever i wanted. i would like to call myself an aspiring actress, but that has such a negetive connotation that i wont. im a thespian. not a lesbian. im a bohemian. and i have absolutely no idea what i am doing with my life.
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