arishine

google image search. it's kind of the whole point of the internet. thusly this survey makes me jig with glee. ( pa-ching! )

that is all.

everything else is good, though. great, even. considering there's 48 pages worth of papers due a week from friday. more later on other things.

existential anxiety aside, things are good. we're doing the tempest in control group, in an actual theatre, and it's going to be mind-boggling and real. i don't feel connected to any of my classes except film, and might drop one, but this semester was going to be all about projects and outside creativity anyway. r.'s here and we're working on a postpunk performance radio theatre variety show that yale gave us so much money to do. i still smell like coffee. my parents and also stephanie are coming to visit in two weeks. new and old things are being stirred and resurfacing. and good people are back after long times gone and we haven't done laundry and now it's time for indian food. i say good day!

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after reading this article in the times today, i almost want to stay around for the RNC. i mean, i wanted to before, sort of -- go align myself with one of the groups who were tabling at the crazy-ass block party the other day and protest wherever the city has decided to let them (somewhere in new jersey; it might be nova scotia now). but look! look! if you decide that you're a peaceful activist, you get all sorts of cool stuff! who cares that the republicans get free metrocards? check this!

"The discount program for protesters is modeled on one for delegates to the convention, and there are some notable differences. Protesters are offered $5 off admission to the Museum of Sex, while delegates are not. But delegates get $3 off the space show at the American Museum of Natural History, a discount not offered to protesters. The Republicans get "Rent," the people who oppose them get "Tony n' Tina's Wedding.""

not to mention the pokemon center store. ohhh, it's almost too good to pass up. (and it's good that the republicans are getting free tickets to 'rent.' now all of their stereotypes about the artistic underclass can be gloriously proven, in rousing harmony. but watch out for those nasty gay people. and the drag queens. they might eat you.)

so if you're a good little protestor, and don't make a mess, and keep your hands to yourself, you'll get a special treat! isn't that nice? too bad the awesome code pink already lost their chance at a free meal at applebee's by "trying to dangle" a banner outside their hotel room. i mean, someone could have gotten hurt. it could have fluttered to the ground and landed softly on a passing republican.

i wonder if this kind of thing would work on the administration. "hey, now, so the UN has decided to give you all free airline tickets to anywhere you'd like and a gourmet meal every week, as long as you promise to be peaceful." except they already get that anyway, probably.

oh well. the activists who were going to be peaceful already will probably stay that way, regardless of goofy statue-of-liberty pin, and the ones that weren't probably have other things to think about than 'tony n' tina's wedding.' the republicans won't get invited to all the fun after-barbecues, anyway.

dear christ. it's too funny.

>back from the family reunion at the gatsby-esque house in upstate new york. pictures and writings on this grand event shall be posted soon (until then, here's a snazzy old map of where it is; "hunter and bros." is my dad's great great grandfather, and you can see where their house is). so much history. such oldness.

>better yet, my sheepish site shall be back up soon, so that these things can actually have long entries written about them, little photo-journalisms, now that i'm living somewhere where there's internet. that, and the endless supply of calvin and hobbes, intense experimental performance theory books, gin, a dvd player, and air conditioning, has pretty much ensured that i'm not going to be leaving that apartment between now and when i leave for oregon next thursday. home to huge clouds and bridge and water and sky.

>except for when i'm finishing up at PS122, and thrashing around with t.c., who's coming this weekend, and going to the few shows that i possibly can (deb, kristen, the neo-futurists), and finally going to the lee bontecou exhibit, and doing tech for a wacky show on friday night. i'm going to be running sound, lights, and being the general audience-participation-instigator. "and getting enough of a cut of the door to buy two beers," she says.

>starhawk is giving a teach-in and discussion in new haven next tuesday as part of the democracy uprising in new haven. i can't go, but if you're in the area, you most definitely should.

eek. have. to. work. am. del. in. quent. and poof.

but it's funny how little i've talked to a lot of the people here. i've gotten pretty close with one or two of them, and we IM about scurvy and their girl problems instead of working. a bunch of co-workers came to kate's birthday dinner party, which was glorious, and joe made an apron out of napkins after we wouldn't let him help clean up. he brings bags of chocolate and leaves them out on the shelf and i eat them for lunch.

i was pretty effing lucky to have gotten this job. in-deed. i suppose i would have made an effort to be ridiculously social if i was going to be staying more than a month and a half. but everyone has their headphones on most of the time anyway. so i just curl up in my chair and try to refrain from typing out little limericks in the warning emails i send to people who've posted pictures of their dogs or monster trucks or themselves wearing watermelon-shaped dildos (actually, i think they're allowed to post those, because you can't see "actual body parts"). maybe i will on the last day. i don't know why i'm afraid to. it's not like they're going to email my supervisor saying "i demand you give me more credits! for free! someone sent me a limerick! that was not in the terms of service!" though it is hard not to email the people who post things like "george bush is god! i am not gay! i want sex! now! sex! george bush! i haven't read a book since i was in middle school! ew! who do you think i am?!" and threaten them with visitations from my dark posse of goblins. but that would just be adding to the problem.

and now, i shall show you the most glorious thing i have discovered whilst working here. a man posted it on his profile, and sadly, i was forced to take it down, but not after googling "freaky rat" until i found it. it is my new totem animal. i was going to keep its existence under wraps, but it's far too majestic to hide its beauty from the world. ladies and gentlemen, the haitian solenodon!

it is a wise, wise creature.

i've had a sore throat for about a week now, and fun little walnut-sized glands on my neck. mayhaps it is strep, but i have no fever. though i really wouldn't know the difference anyway since my apartment is one hundred degrees and humid like the rainforest room at the zoo and full of drywall dust. anyway, i've made an appointment with a doctor in soho that someone at ps122 recommended to me; i think he's the doctor in "supersize me," which i haven't seen. but it keeps coming up when i google him, and says "featuring a doctor of internal medicine in soho," and that's what this fellow is. so.

all i need is a hearty dose of amoxicillin so i can go to my family reunion this weekend, which i haven't been to in four years. croquet and out-of-tune pianos and corn on the cob and carp-fishing and old apple trees and the old pump and stilts and ten bedrooms and the icehouse. the train ticket costs half as much as my plane ticket home to oregon. too bad.

i want to write about the strange bearded man with the radiation detector that keeps hovering behind us mumbling things into a tape recorder, and the bizarre play i was in this weekend that reminds me of reading about the east village in the seventies, and the famous reggae performer who's asked me to transcribe his life story. but i'm at work and these things take attention span. but next week, oh much-longed-for next week, when i shall move into my cousin's apartment where the internet and rum abounds (they frolic in the meadow, the internet and rum, like antelope and butterflies).

out. out.

on september 11th, jason webley will be performing at yale, thanks to the effervescently fantastic arishine. and i'm helping. i'm in a bewildered small frenzy, trying not to turn into a puddle of anarchic fountain-pounding piratey goo. he's taken on this mythical aura in my mind, all foggy images of ghoul masks and accordians on the street at bumbershoot two years ago, standing on top of the fountain in seattle center until the cops came, bellowing songs on the pavement. playing "counterpoint" over and over in a dark winter apartment. dim pubs and beer steins. i cannot fucking wait.

"I the high nice girl, with green eyes,
Very long searched for the male of dream,
And though all my efforts have terminated in failure, I do not recede
Probably you my destiny, and with you I shall understand that it - true love!"

from a 27 year old woman in birmingham. i'm not even going to comment on this one.

tonight: the neo-futurists. tomorrow, geo's bar mitzvah and a train to larchmont. i need to think of something to auction. all me art is in new haven. i have no lizards. i have nothing with which to cook. i could auction a promise of cookies. or a dance party. i'm a good rhymer. i could auction some rhymes.

even though i spend 8 hours a day, four days a week on the internet (and sometimes more if they don't want me to dig through artist files on mondays at PS122, but that's all fun and creative work anyway), i still can't chunk together enough time to get the sheepish site back up. i sneak away from reviewing profiles in little five-minute bits (or ten, or fifteen) but it's too attention-span-less to do anything fancy. so i shall update this. sixteen million and three times a day, i think. i've been emailing myself hilarious things people write on their ads, words spelled wrong, unintentional sentences. but they're just going to go on here. the best from today:

"I love to be ragging with enthusiasm, and quite around a campfire."

and now, i have seventeen minutes left. i don't think i can fucking make it. oh good god.

well.

i got a job as a "content reviewer" for spring street networks, who screen all the online personals in the stranger, the mercury, the voice, and all those other lovely publications. i shall be getting paid seven dollars an hour to procrastinate and write scintillating emails. i'm doing eight-hour shifts tuesday through friday that basically start and end whenever i want them to. which is good, because in the mornings i'm going to be at p.s. 122 writing for culturebot, a new site that's networking together all the crazy experimental and independent performance in the city. i'm not exactly sure yet what the job entails, but from what i understand so far, i'm going to peruse all the files and ads and publications we have at p.s. 122 and then say "this and this look interesting, and also this, and this person looks rad" and then i go out and see them or meet them or participate in them and then write about them. and at night, julia and i are going to be starting the writing of our play, which has no form or content yet but shall blow the minds of the world. i know it shall. i'm sort of shocked and awed at how quickly this all fell into place. i really didn't think it would. i spent five hours walking lost around the west village yesterday mentally calculating every last dime i had, and inventorying (?) each of my possessions in order to ascertain which i could sell for a hefty price. but now! now i shall buy a bicycle! but first i must bathe. i've been wearing the same clothes for two days. i have shinsplints and hunger.

something enticing will be written on here soon, i promise.

i feel weird writing on here, usually. because people don't really have a choice whether or not they read my shit when it comes up on their friends page — i guess you could just skip over it, but still, there's the scrolling involved, and all that. when i wrote on sheepish, i knew that people were purposefully seeking it out, even if they'd just clicked on a link to it or done a strange search (for the record: someone found it yesterday by yahoo seaching "hermit crabs (how to know when pregnant)" which is just delightful). and for some reason this made me write differently. like hanging photos on the wall and painting the ceiling in a room that's your own rather than living out of a suitcase on a rented bit of floor.

all this is to say that it's going back up, soon, though i don't know how since i'm not going to have internet this summer where i'm staying. but we shall see.

i read persepolis yesterday, on loan from sunnykins. i'm realizing again how ignorant i am of so, so much; i need to be able to understand experiences of individuals in order to fully comprehend the forces of politics and war and religion and revolution that seem too huge to exist.

yes. and now it's time to pack.