I've gone back into my journals to pull up the things I've written and forgotten to put here:
Before 8/29/07 8:00 am "I have felt so creatively drained since I left the Vineyard. I want to write and photograph things, but there hasn't been anything worth my attention other than the word "angel." Someone in my History class called me an angel yesterday. How nice..."
"Cat's Pajamas"
8:55 am "So I can't stand it anymore. I have to write something, if anything interesting comes out, Yay! For two days I've stayed in my room when not in class or getting something. I don't feel bored. It iseems like I'm depressed, but I don't feel depressed. I'm just a vegetable. I sit in front of the TV, procrastinating homework and just flopping about. Today I was done with classes at 11 am. I went to lunch, the post office, and came back to the room. Excusing a block of two hours when I went to the scene shop and Walmart, I've been in this room, doing nothing of consequence. At least I made my bed. I just sit and stare either into space or at the TV. Is this a condition? At least I'm not pregnant, as I found out today. It took less than 40 seconds for it to say Not Pregnant. I cried in relief and from all the strange emotions I'm having from NOT having my period. It's incredible how completely blank I feel."
8/29/07 "We have a new puppy, a little yellow lab. She's adorable."
9/4/07 8:45 am "All I want to do is become a monkey. Some busy, excited, loud, uncaring monkey, with no inhibitions. I want to be able to fall about on the ground, jump onto tables and cling to chairs, to digress in a moment. My arms don't need grace, they can fly where they like. Who needs to walk upright? Why do I need to ask questions? Why do I - Why should I - ask why things are the way they are? For God's Sake!!! The things are things. They just are the way they are. Don't question me, because I am all the possibilities, past, present and future. There is no difinitive answer to your questions. you are a monkey. There."
9/4/07 11:45 am "The cups reminded me that we were at a table, sitting down in chairs, eating off of ceramic white plates with silver metal forks. The cups, filled with water, Mountain Dew, Code Red, and Pepsi, ice, dreams, they reminded me that we were human adults, civilized beings that had evolved beyond infancy, beyond puberty. We are real people now."
9/4/07 5:48 pm "This is a fantastic experience. I participate as I like, which is a lot. But no one will call on me, scrutinize me. No one, my peers or superiors, will squint up their eyes and try to peel away my skin, staring into me, watching me. When it's a huge audience, it's not so bad because there are so many. It's disbursed pain, like lying on a bed of nails, their eyes. But on this side of the table, there isnt' even the threat of a pierce, of a glazed eye. I get to watch without being scrutinized for scrutinizing! Who could as for a better job?!?"
An Idea for a Play: -A series of short plays involving two stories being told above and below the table.
-A love-hate relationship: Above: Arguement that leads below to a sexual lust. Below: The beginnings of angry flirting.
-Sadness vs. Happiness
-The feet alone telling a story
-The hands alone telling a story
-The facial expressions alone telling a story
-Could also be the same scene over and over again, but each part of it, the hands, feet and faces, make up the different sides to the story.
9/6/07 "Oh jeez, make my eyelids fall and sleep crust them over. How I long for the letter 'Z'.
The film just comes in snatches, followed by jerks of the head and a quick intake of breath.
I'm Awake! I'm Awake!
Where amd I? Every time I blink, I can't recall where I am. My inner ear is spinning, my weight is weightlessness. I'm falling.
A sudden loss of consiousness, so sweet, so soft. Yes, please!
My cannonball, let it fall, and
BANG, send me off, flying through myself.
I do not mind drool, my foolish face
Contorted in a smushed pillow,
Hammocking a mesh of hair, and sweet unhindered dreams.
Exuberant joy Yes, please!
The best of thoughts, come rapidly, they're brilliant!
I can rule the world, now knowing what I know. Peace is Possible! Energy-enhancing haircuts! Duct tape buildings! Vocalized watches and clocks!
WAKE UP!!!
They go, smashing. I try to hold on. I try to keep them going, but they break each one. Their glory gone, their glow gone.
My head leaps up, screaming Why?
No no no no no no no no no no no no no no NO!!!!!
I'm trapped in a gerbil ball. Clear, but thick, plastic, just like everyone else.
9/10/07 "Terre Haute, the same as ever. Rose-Hullman, as ridiculous and yet as beautiful as ever. At 10:45 pm, the flowering 15-ft. fountain expels ripples that race across the lake, just feather touching the reflections of the lamps around. And Pow-Wowing on a dock, floating in the middle of an upside-down world, is my love and his two best friends. Right now they're ruining the beauty of the evening by chanting, pretending to vomit, and asking an inane question. "Does a blowjob count as sex? Yes or No?"
9/11/07 8:02 am "I don't even bother to tell myself that I'm not sick, because I'm SO not sick, I don't need to know. My nose is running and I can only sometimes catch it, but it's only in the left nostril. I'm not sick. My head feels similar to a mound of gunpowder, black gunpowder, that's aching so badly to explode that it hurts, and the explosion would actually relieve the pressure. It would feel so incredible. AAAAAAAGGGGHHHH!!!! That doesn't! God, my brain has become a glacier! Now I need to sleep. No one can understand how important that 10 min. break when I slept was. If I hadn't I would have missed a lot of notes. While I'm still tired, I won't pass out... Oops, I was wrong. Now I'm sick, I'm so tired. My head, my face is in pain, my eyes are unwillingly crossing, my stomach hurts."
6:40 pm "The sun is sitting on my shoulder. My hair, resting wistfully on my right breast is shining a brilliant gold. The curves of my shoulder, breasts and neck are softly contoured in brightness. Sol will soon be kissing my cheek, my nose, my lips. Porcelein skin glows radiant yellow.
7:56 pm "Why am I so obsessed with the word "pickle?" When I have nothing to say or do or write about, the first thing that comes to mind is "Pickles" with an accompanying adjective like "Pink" or "Deconstipated" or something equally ridiculous."
9/17/07 "I want so much to draw this boy's face with charcoal. I'm itching to outline the shape of his han over his mouth. I wouldn't do the form justice if I attempted it in pen or pencil.
My stomach is hungry, but my muffin top is full. I shouldn't starve myself, but it seems like that would be easier."
9/18/07 "'And what do we say, boys and girls?' 'THANK YOU EUGENE!' Eugene was kind enough to donate his/her brain to science, so the 24 of us could wedge our grimy fingers between the lobes, so we could feel the hard-packed cerebral cortex squish just a little, and wiggle the cerubellum independant of the rest. A labotomy with an index finger.
Going to the bathroom blind is the most frightening thing ever. There is a much greater risk of sitting on a wet seat, no toilet paper, and you have to touch everything to find the lever to flush! And then my belt, the most difficult thing. I turn right, run into every wall, even outside I ran into things."
