Thursday, 29 April 2010

feeling crazy

living on caffeine, dreams and nerves

Tuesday, 27 April 2010

Tuesday, 20 April 2010

reading about surrealism

false childhood

i used to fall a lot
and every time i touched a certain chair
in the dining room
of our too-small first house,
i floated for a second

and every time i stood at the top of the stairs,
i slipped on air

and every time my head touched the pillow,
i dreamt of a door
leading from the alcove with the never-used fireplace
to a vast room
with rows and rows of old toys
and that my brother says did not exist,
though i swear i got lost in it many times

and every time i napped in my parent's bed,
i got sick all over the blue flowers of their duvet...
i did not like their bedroom anyways,
for freddy krueger lived in my mother's closet
and a moth flew into my father's ear one time

but i am not to be trusted,
for these are my earliest memories
and my earliest memories are just recurring dreams

don't you hate when you cannot trust your own mind, when you doubt your own memories? or is it just me?

hipster leftovers

the huffington post defined "hipster school" as "place where the pants are tight, the hearts are bleeding, the conversation is postmodern and gender is nothing more than a social construct”

*a hipster is likely to have a funny or ironic tattoo, or existential bullshit song lyricz, while
a bro is likely to have a tattoo of his astrological sign, a latin phrase he doesn't know the meaning of,
or his family name/some personal testimonial shit (a bro-ho would have a tramp stamp of course).

i got a stick of dynamite tattooed above my panties in high school because it was funny (ironic?)...
does that make me a hipster-ess??!!!!!

anthropological study of hipsters

the hipster died circa 1999,
yet i just spent several hours in bed reading hipster-bashing articles and blogs.
look up hipster horses. i peed.
there were hipsters everywhere at oberlin. the few here are hilarious to observe.
once, for a brief moment, i felt nostalgia for oberlin,
then my ex-roommate made a snide comment via facebook ("2012: only the strong survive"),
to which i replied "let's be roomies in hell?"
<3 sarcasm

erin wasson

some mtv bitty at coachella

Monday, 19 April 2010

the plan

amy: shower

emily: read through magritte book

gabby: change clothes
write 5 pages (0 down, 5 to go as of 11:36 pm)

cigarettes = rewards for progress


i don't know where i am
if it's not somewhere i've been before

animal crackers in bed

it's 4:36 am
my thigh is sore
i will shower in 3 hours
i want no one

(watched 2 documentaries: herb and dorothy, and who the *$&% is jackson pollock
i highly recommend both)

Saturday, 17 April 2010

Wednesday, 14 April 2010


even if i could pinpoint
the qualities which make you
a horrible person,
i would never say them to you.
i guess that is what makes me better than you,
as well as a reason to love myself.
so, thank you.

song: i feel better - hot chip

Wednesday, 7 April 2010

could not sleep

the butt of the joke
cigarette butt

erin wasson x rvca fall 2010

Tuesday, 6 April 2010

knitted romper

mom, please

song: show me love - robyn

Saturday, 3 April 2010


blue haterade
high waisted cheap mondays
black leather
french neoclassicism
chanel flats
lyrics to the whole world - outkast
strawberry shortcake
feeding ducks
mini bic lighters
museum postcards
le metro
jean jacques de castelbajac
wait a million years - the grassroots
the global water crisis

Friday, 2 April 2010


from 3/23:
i just need to write. if i write this shit somewhere, i won't say it out loud. also, if i write this shit, one day i might understand ___, or maybe i'll just laugh. how did i get here? how did i get to brandeis? how did i get from westchester to oberlin to brandeis, and i'm still a freshman...or just fresh. i'm wearing wet panties under my towel. i wear my panties in the shower, and i shower twice a day. habits.
i just took my hebrew midterm (heebs). אני אוהבת שומ דבר (i like nothing). it's raining. my roommate is listening to soft disney music in chinese (she's from china). i love my dad. his name is donald (or papa don) and he's an entertainment lawyer, one of a dying breed. i love my brothers ira and jeffrey. i am the baby sister. they define me. i wrote a villanelle for them last year:

(last night i dreamt that you two, my heroes,
physically fought in the living room, and as we are three, i felt each shove.
this morning, adorned in memory's sweat, i arose.)

i'm learning to laugh. i'm working on considering life as a huge joke. i refuse to take anything seriously. la vie est ___ (folle, une plaisanterie?)
i lie sometimes, possibly to amuse myself. at some party last year, i told the dj i was a dance major (they have dance majors at oberlin, right?) because i wanted him to change the song. i said, "change this shit. i'm a dance major and i can't dance to this." alex believed me. you can't dance to house music unless you're on e or molly or some shit. adderall (2 d's, like in aladdin) is the best drug in the world. i like museums. i want to live in this one room in the louvre, the room with the david's and the delacroix's (my dad loves to say delacroix like a jackass american with a haughty french accent) and gericault's raft of medusa. the room with delaroche's young martyr. i fell in love with ingres in that room.
i have to get dressed, put on my chanel make-up. i have to spend an hour with a magritte in the rose before african art and aesthetics. i'll probably wear ksubi skinny overalls, a crop top, flannel and green jeffrey campbell acme lace-up boots.
1 2 3 focus on school, be nice but don't let anyone in, be your own rock. you'll be home in a week.

song: tape song - the kills "time ain't gonna cure you, honey, time don't give a shit. time ain't gonna cure you, honey, time's just gonna hit on you"