Saturday, October 25, 2008

My Life as a Bum

So... what do you get when four rather eccentric people voyage into the mountainous jungle barefoot in the dead of night on the rainiest of weekends?

Existential literature in a tree house dangling precariously over a ravine, of course!
And a drippy night under ragged blankets with a beautiful view.
And a whole lot of dirt, grime, and sour airhead wrappers.

What kind of a bum would I be if I didn't hang out at the bus stop to wait out the rain?

Emily's face.

Good morning, 'Nam!

...And spending the next day eating things like spam and pancakes, fording rivers, watching Paris Hilton's My New BFF, and giving each other raspberries.

love, filth, and hobo urine-saturated mattresses,

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Lucky Me

The other day my darling friend, Rita from Fiji, told me that in her culture you are considered very lucky if you have a birthmark on your leg.
I very much have a birthmark on my leg, and therefore I am lucky.

Lucky Anna

Saturday, October 4, 2008

Whoopsie Daisies

I'm really....happy. (nearly unavoidable when in Hawaii) So... overcome with happiness, drunken with p.o.g. juice, and dead sure after weeks of deliberation, I accidentally decided to stay next semester. Maybe for the rest of my undergraduate education. (Perhaps for ever)
...Can ya blame me?

Career Day
Bakers are at their ovens,
painters at their easels.
Soldiers are at war,
and I am at peace.

Astronauts are in space,
playfully squirting toothpaste food at each other.
Burglars are in trouble,
but I am in love.

Contortionists are twisted,
accountants, I imagine, are bored.
waiters are tipped,
and I am balanced.

Mimes are silent,
I am singing.
Convicts are playing violent basketball in jumpsuits;
I am free. naked.

Suns are shining,
waves are crashing,
clouds are drifting,
and I am joyfully,
unmistakably unemployed.

Songs, sand, and nectarines,


I want to carry you
and for you to carry me
the way voices are said to carry over water.

Just this morning on the shore,
I could hear two people talking quietly
in a rowboat on the far side of the lake.

They were talking about fishing,
then one changed the subject,
and, I swear, they began talking about you.

Billy Collins

that's all, folks


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