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"