today at nine i found out that i didn't have to work until five and then i ran around the house hollering nine to five! nine to five! i am hard playin from nine to five! like playin is my full time job!!!!
yours, amanda L. at 1:24 PM [+]
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the sailor who fell from grace from the sea.
my brain feels hard in places. i caught up on bizhan's website and it made my heart thump to the bottom of my belly. its important to send letters to your friends, its important to send letters to your friends, its important to send transmissions and encoded communiques to your loved ones, every single day, and i don't. i don't.
what happens: i am a waitress in a tavern, which is fascinating the way that most everything is fascinating, and i enact small sociology and behavior experiments on them in my head while struggling to remember which tables need bread, which tables need sweet teas, which tables need food plated and brought. and lean against the bar with the crossword, gazing into the floor with all my memories eroding into a milky fucking mush. this year, what are years, and on and on.
at the punk show we danced like maniacs while the jacksonville kids sat in tight circles, saying hi to one another with a practised mildness, and we danced even more maniacally, as if we were testing a theory for the thousandth time. we recreated the experiment and found the data sound. the theory of some people dance all crazy and its not unnoticed that the majority of people are not even watching the band, and this fact, in its own way, become fuel for the dancing.
oh the night and the parking lot, the noise, and the hands clasped to shoulders. later i stood still and tried to separate my mind from the world, swaying gently from all the alcohol, and thought, this is good now. but when i am forty years old it will not be okay to be here, at this punk show. so i guess i will have to write books then. maybe live somewhere remote, coastal, unamerican. fuck, i need to call wes and find out if we're still getting married.
lizards running allover the ground. i'm not going to make it.
yours, amanda L. at 11:24 AM [+]
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gainsville last night.
yours, amanda L. at 3:40 PM [+]
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we watched barfly, and it did us absolutely no good. three trips to the ABC via bicycle for many bottles of cheap champagne, until we commence being both geniuses and astoundingly brilliant. dance party of two to kanye west, out the door weavingly; we climb the stairs of a hotel on san marco to outright ask some elderly tourists if we can hang out with them. kevin is only wearing swimming trunks and neon pink rimmed sunglasses shaped like triangles. our endevour to drink for free with the tourists is so sucessful that we stagger home so i can put on my "give me lots of cocaine" dress: the plan is to go out and get wasted on rich people's tabs. at kevin's i apply a fake tattoo of a panther lunging from out of a tribal design overtop my right breast, he puts on a button-down shirt and tie but keeps the trunks. then we take pictures of ourselves looking glamourous. then we get high and pass out instantaneously, curled together into a 4pm nap like preschoolers.
later, getting wasted for free unravels a bit, and kevin finds margo and aaron finds franny and kelly finds leah, and everyone's objectives are following straight trajectories, and so i sip the wine i discover next to the couch and page through an olympia press anthology. and wait for them to leave two by two. which they do.
yours, amanda L. at 3:22 PM [+]
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to Induce partial intoxication, to control unruly children, and the plant was given in large doses along with tobacco to women and slaves to deaden their senses before being buried alive with their dead husbands or masters
ridiculous sunny oceans drunken messes i've got a tan and a fixed gear bicycle and last night i had nightmares about crashing it but luke was there and bought me tylenols for the pain after i fell and then we rode to the party downtown and you were all in your very grown-up party outfits and there was punch on the table in a glass bowl and dust on the floors and it curled into our mouths and the record player was on the floor.
yours, amanda L. at 1:28 PM [+]
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we rode bikes to the ocean, and the tide was out, and so the beach itself stretched on and on like a desert, and the water itself was low so you had to swim and swim to get to the waves. and everything glittered crazily. we had bought rum at the store, everything is so sun bleached, and when we were laying on the sand you couldn't help thinking about being stuck fast to the side of the earth by way of physics, and i had the sand pushing on one side and the sun shoving me down on the other. and everything shone and pulsed. i have a good wolflike friend here and we cackle and draw up plans of action
1. the line this job is getting you nowhere. so why don't you quit right now and come to the beach with me
2. homemade alcohol
3. ghost tag club, where we gather at the fort around midnight to play chasing games. wearing sheets with eyeholes cut out. (you'd have to first have an idea of the "ghost tour" culture in this city to understand the brilliance of this idea)
4. dragging our selves across the street for fried foods and beers.
there are tiny shells stuck allover my legs. i am permanently pleased with my life and its direction.
we watch the movie can't hardly wait
we watch the movie downtown 81
there are things i want to take home from both of these.
then:
last night we sat on the stoop and across the street a boy was dragging a large, flat square of wood down the road.
kevin joe. what are you up to.
joe (looks doubtfully at the wood) i'm doing some building.
kevin are you wasted?
joe yeah.
kevin so what are you up to?
joe i'm going to go slide down my staircase on this piece of wood.
kevin and anda, simutaneously oh man---can we---hey, hold up a second!
the wood has been dumpstered from behind the punk video store. when joe flips it over, we realize it says YEA RIGHT in bubbly lettered spraypaint. hey, i made this says kevin. and everyone breaks up laughing, and then everyone collapses onto the living room. "i've had an impeccable day." "me too." that night my dreams were about rollercoasters.
yours, amanda L. at 10:58 AM [+]
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i look so hot today, everyone.
my pink eye is gone and i holding my head together with both hands.
yours, amanda L. at 11:43 AM [+]
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all the roads go on and on. swamps and crickety sounds. sunscreen that makes you bronzed and a little wetfaced. i can't stop reading the death of the heart. i have pink-eye. and because i am magnetic and strong-boned, every time i leave the house i immediately run facefirst into glimmering bebicycled virgo children, bruised and shiny and absolutely evil allover.
i hate virgos. they pay careful fucking attention. and then they steal your game and parade it around the whole village. copycats, the lot. yes, yes, i play the lottery, mix tapes, and an assortment of films that you will have watched yourself in the last 24 hours since i last left the house and last ran smack into you, crocodile.
if i put the idea in your head then why are you breaking my heart
i found a job, i think, waiting tables at some warm tourist hole. i found a place, maybe, with a large kitchen and wide porch with a porch swing. my legs are covered in bruises, and i bike to the beach on a fixed gear. which is awesome. jumping into watering holes, fretting over my failed/budding internet friendship with the Past (and scienceprojects; hey shelby, write me back dummy), i had a birthday you missed in jacksonville florida, nathan writes with stories of junkies in the parisan catacombs, and i watch one movie a day with my relentlessly virgo friends. and eat acid. i love you internet and i missed you alot
yours, amanda L. at 2:11 PM [+]
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1. autonomy
2. anonymity
3.
small town carnivals and carnival rides, and anthropology, and being upside down in the spaceship ride
o pioneers! by willa cather
the movie breaking away
humidity
science
yours, amanda L. at 12:04 PM [+]
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1. i'm trying Haloscan.
2. and i want to marry Blogger.
anda gail lewis 2005. stop crying every day.
