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lisa says on a night like this: [userpic]


June 17th, 2005 (11:28 pm)
current mood: spidermonkey
current song: old time relijun--vampire victim

hello, dear livejournal.

since our last meeting i have:

%turned nineteen.
there goes that barely legal audition chance.

%went to san francisco and had an outrageously wild night in a hotel room, bought a lot of stuff, and ate a medically-charged cookie on the haight.
tip: eat thai food after you get stoned for the first time in a hundred years.
other tip: don't take a boring amtrak ride. don't go home and hang out with your mom. probably don't tell her you're stoned and giggle like an idiot either.

%got a new apartment eight blocks from the old one.
i'll give you the address when i figure out where it is. i'm trading in the gay methhead couple next door for a different tidy gay couple next door with sponge-painted walls. also: i have a garden to plot and a place to put all my stuff.

%got my dad's phone number.
i haven't talked to him in eight years. i've been searching for a way to contact him forever and when it just dropped into my lap i didn't quite know what to do with it. still don't, in fact.

%greeted vladimir back from mexico.
this was less than ten minutes ago. i don't know what i will do with this hip world traveller now that i have him safely back in my clutches.

i spent my entire birthday crying [at work, somtimes] except for a few brief moments when i remembered that i have a very nice fella who bought me a beautiful and fucking incredibly expensive flower arrangement. it kind of looks like thisCollapse )

i fucking hate birthdays, they cloud my little brain into delusions that i have no friends when really, i have a gaggle and they're all very good and kind people. i get all drama queeny and it's stupid. now i'm going to be with two of my bestest friends.

PS: KARL BLAU IS PERFORMING AT SOME KID'S HOUSE THIS SUNDAY. I AM GOING, YES? i have not been this excited to actually go to any sort of show in forever. i hope to have him sign that shirt i made with his picture on it that says "I BRAKE FOR KARL BLAU". i'm so excited i just peed my pants.

lisa says on a night like this: [userpic]

someone to peel your grape in a hundred degrees in the shade

February 19th, 2005 (10:51 pm)
current mood: comfy sweater, work dread
current song: 6ths--aging spinsters

so i'm NOT as hot as liza minelli and don't have eyelashes to my armpits.

work was retarded today. like, mother earth smoked way too much pot before she had my day at work. i walked into the kitchen and as i was emptying ice cups into the dishwasher i watched three members of the kitchen staff snicker at me in japanese, which i should really learn one of these days. i looked at them like, what, is my shirt inside-out, do i have tempura sauce all over my boobs again?

bitch little squat twat boy: "too much black on your eyes, makes you look weird."

kay. for reference, my eyes are often done up in this fashion:

except in less sepia tone.
then when i tried to get boxes down from a shelf eighteen miles above my five-foot-two frame the same little bitch laughed and said i thought i was wonder woman.

luckily, i have wonderful old grandpa there. though he doesn't speak much english at all, the things he says are comforting to no end. when i grumped back into the prep room after the eyeliner comment he walked by, took my hand and put an arm around my shoulder,

"lisa. alisha. lisa."
pat pat.

for reference, he often looks like this:

except with glasses.

most of my stuff is in my new place and i'm still not there. a little afraid, are we? yes, i think so. my room in natomas is bare except for this computer and my guitar and the walls, which are still acid tangerine orange. to complete the picture-centric entry, i really really want this shirt:

except in eggplant. first person to buy me this episode in casual wear gets a blow job.

ps i totally own this pair of underwear:Collapse )

except i don't look as hot in them as that girl. still fantastic though.

lisa says on a night like this: [userpic]

before the girl picking field daisies becomes the girl picking field daisies:

January 14th, 2005 (01:56 am)
current mood: spec-tac-ular.
current song: juana molina--no es tan cierto

watching the whole foggy moraga sky turn brilliant pink and the city below it twinkle as you get on the thirteen to berkeley has been the best part of my mini-holiday thus far. it really helps that kristian's roommate with the honesty you wish you had and the body-that-won't-quit was playing britney spears the whole time. i also went with vlad after food and coffee and the piercing of his nostril to a beautiful hill on campus with buildings older than your oldest living relative and watched the bridge almosttwinkle through the fog.

vlad and i are saving up money to travel to norway,
where the sunrise and sunsets [the only parts of the
average day that i don't feel antsy and nervous] are
twice as long and we can row through the fjords under
huge pregnant stars.

when i'm in the bay i feel like nowhere else is of any importance at all, and like anywhere is an okay destination, and ambition feels like comfortable armchair instead of a sludgy pipe dream. it doesn't matter so much that i feel like i've lost my k completely or that the redhead who has been my most consistent friend in the last two years has suddenly gotten fed-up with one-foot-out-of-all-doors me, it's okay that my highest goal is to be a cat lady who knows eighteen languages and travels EVERYWHERE, it's just fucking okay. i feel like i could write again. i feel like i could actually look at myself in a mirror once in a while.

i'm only eighteen. god, i have forever.
get crazy, get great.

lisa says on a night like this: [userpic]

mollusk, etc.

January 7th, 2005 (07:00 pm)
current mood: check
current song: the rolling stones

mollusk don't cry, you can rely on me, honey.

so vladimir has risen to the very top of the people-i-wanna-be-like list, because we all know that i have no soul and am simply a cut-up third grade collage of a dumb dumb seahorse assembled from the yearbook that is people i have walked by in my life. in an hour and a half the boy crocheted me a single fingerless glove that extends to my almost-elbow and a little red flower that dangles most dainty. i'm sure he'll crochet its mate when he has a spare moment at a stoplight or something.

you know, when i post pictures in here it's usually to show that "hey, i'm not an ugly beasty sometimes!" or "hey, i'm totally actually an ugly beasty but isn't it funny, that thingy that i'm doing?"
i get the feeling when other people post pictures it's more like, "i am soooo hot, just in case you didn't know in real life. also, you're disgusting and stop trying, shellfish."

but i could be wrong.

and i didn't get that job at lush, probably because i wanted it, but it's the first interview i've ever had where i didn't get the job and now i have to remember that so i kind of wish i'd just stayed home and made cake instead. at least that girl at the rock store wanted to jump me. and at least that teapot with the fishy at the tea cozy is only eighteen dollars.

i should not be rotting here at home being melancholy, but i can't think of anything to do that involves not being friendly or lazy and all my paintbrushes are at natalie's house. and seriously, why does my german-english-and-back-again dictionary take no notice of the fact that people have sex? it has the word cami-knickers, tho.

i have written more frequently and with much greater length and detour in this livejournal in the past few weeks than i have in the year before that. i need a hobby, a job, and a new house.
and hey, i feel like i'm re-learning everything.

lisa says on a night like this: [userpic]

hey girl, c'mon and take a whirl in my ma-chine

January 6th, 2005 (10:13 pm)
current mood: like rubber
current song: depeche mode--never let me down

i have found that a good amount of caffeine and/or a jaunty bikeride through a puffy-clouded downtown sacramento is about the same as a big fat dose of amphetamine. which is good because
because "hey mom stop all that drinking"
and "ps buy me and my friends some rum for a fun night of giggles" simply don't work within most of the small periods of time they happened in.

of course had i opted for the amphetamine instead of the bikeride i could have saved myself this big fat gash on the back of my foot that forced me to stop at olipom, buy a pair of cheap tassled loafers, and change into them without anyone noticing that i was hemmorhaging from the nether limbs. i don't care how classy my witchy shoes with the little-girl-holding-the-teddy-bear and zodiac-dradle-thing rub-on transfers are, next time it's loafers and a sensible pair of socks.

like how i'm talking about nothing?

colin: "what's a fraggle?"

completely unrelated things, both equally unsettling.

so i'll be moving in with any one or all of three lovely ladies by mid-february and tomorrow i have an interview for a receptionist position at an annoyingly trendy little salon downtown. despite the description it sounds like the best job ever, but i'm wearing a hat to the interview because with my current brand of diy mane-pruning i'm afraid that the focus would be torn away from my winning smile and charming chatter.

there are only so many instant messages, livejournal comments and answering machine yowls one can churn out to a former roommate before feeling like a lame-ass.

and i'm still deeply in love with arlen lawson and that's fine.
time for bath.

lisa says on a night like this: [userpic]

(no subject)

January 1st, 2005 (11:45 am)
current mood: headache and sleepy
current song: dead disco stuck in my head

somehow there's a virus on this computer that means i can't use the mouse so internet activity has gotten to be more trouble than it's worth.


for christmas i got a sparkling little green schwinn breeze, all re-chromed with baskets and a frame that fits me much better than gertrude the varsity did, may she rest in peace. after the presents happened my friends all congregated at my house to drink mimosas and watch movies.

in between the two holidays i saw my life aquatic and a very long engagement, neither of which i payed for and both of which i adored.

holiday 2: i rang in the new year dancing with arlen, natalie, fran, eileen, and jesse to 'dead disco' by stereo total and spent the subsequent first hours of the year sprawling around on natalie's bed staring at twinkle lights.

my resolutions are to change very little about much of what i did last year, because it was an absolutely lovely one.

lisa says on a night like this: [userpic]

pump n' pantry

December 21st, 2004 (07:28 pm)
current mood: glazed
current song: david bowie -- rebel, rebel

so i'm back in my old house in my old room in sacramento, mother watching law & order on the couch, felines nuzzling my feet.

we drove 1800 miles in a little less than 2 days and i feel disoriented as hell. it was the world's speediest and most wonderful roadtrip, BUT. i've gotten 3 hours of sleep in the last 72 and i feel like i've been defeated coming back here. i've lived on my own for a year and a half now and i'm right back in my twin bed staring at the tangerine walls again.

the difference: arlen curled into a little sleepy ball on my front couch.

my god, how much i've left behind.
it's going to be rough readjusting to this city.
sleep now, elaborations later.

lisa says on a night like this: [userpic]

i bet he'd like gaultier

December 9th, 2004 (01:44 pm)
current mood: sushi!
current song: built to spill--the weather


oh my gosh, i will be flying out of this motherfucking town like a rocket loaded with housewares in t-minus nine days and counting and i haven't packed a bloody thing.

on the 16th [a week from today] there will be a big fat party at my good friend kyle ford's house, and everyone i've ever met in iowa is invited, as it will probably be a good long time before i see your beautiful faces again. if we've so much as passed on the street i want you there. he lives on north dodge and more details will follow. byoFUN.

i squished and squooshed and begged and pleaded but there was one thing i couldn't fit into the moving truck:

i'm sure everyone here will be pleased that i couldn't fit that extra bit of cargo, but it's horrible to be leaving a girl who has spent the last year being my best friend in the world. i swear, if you are ever lucky enough to meet miss christy brown-kwaiser, you fucking thank all your stars and other peoples' too.

the pain of that is somewhat numbed by the fact that this other thing i wanted to bring fits in the truck just fine, though his couch and desk and stuff are questionably pushing it:

[pictures from the daily iowan chronicle of the new voters project show.]

and in case you have forgotten what i look like, it's very much in this vein:

but with more fat and less eyeballs.
i spent the whole night out yesterday with lovelies and pretties, and all went well until someone passed around a set of candid shots taken from various nights at sam's, when i promptly collapsed in a ball of self-loathing. DO ME A MOTHERFUCKING FAVOR AND KEEP YOUR GODDAMN CAMERAS AWAY FROM ME. I DO NOT WANT TO SEE WHAT I LOOK LIKE IN REAL LIFE. THIS IS WHY I STAUNCHLY AVOID MIRRORS WHEN OUT AND ABOUT. I DON'T EVEN LOOK IN REFLECTIVE WINDOWS.

i am now going to sneak off to takanami to eat lunch alone,
because i haven't in a while, and i want to.

lisa says on a night like this: [userpic]


November 30th, 2004 (03:55 am)
current song: john lennon--oh, yoko!

oh no, i di-hin't [go there, that is].

ryan and i look like a really fancy little couple, don't we?


we decided that it's such a crying shame that we're NOT A COUPLE AT ALL EVER that we should act like one all the time, just because we're so damn darling. here is a picture of us doing couply things, like blowing on pasta and wearing large glasses:


it is early morn and i'm a bit too hyper to go to sleep. maybe i should ask the entire sam's crew if they can all come over and play the inserting-the-word-vagina-into-movie-titles game for ANOTHER TWO HOURS so that i can drift off again like i did in the bar. noteworthy contributions as follows: the texas chainsaw vagina, lockstock&twosmoking vaginas, yawnyawnyawn.

wow, so i just realized how tired i am and will now take my leave.

ps ryan was totally a badass today but i can't tell you how. anyway, it's exciting and worth at least one squeal, if not more. arlen was also a badass, and i can't tell you how about that either. you'll just have to trust me. everyone i date becomes a james dean at some point or other.

lisa says on a night like this: [userpic]

deadly light mocks the scene of the crime

November 27th, 2004 (03:47 am)
current mood: SQUEE.
current song: vetiver--luna sea

edit to earlier entry:
i'm in a much better frame of mind right now.

i wonder how people deal with judging other people so constantly?
it seems like it would take so much more effort, so much valuable time away from just enjoying the fuck out of people within the confines of your own interests, the things you think that make the world fun to live in in the first place. calm down, phil, calm the fuck down.

it's a lovely universe, do-do-do-do-do-do-do-doooo-do-do/////.

heather might be coming this weekend with companions a-plenty, and there's a slim chance that vlad might come down as well. then, as surely as i can guess, we will all trek down to chicago in rattling cars and wander around the city and i will get to see mustapha's bride again in all its tactless glory.

arlen is at home, sleeping like a little doll, and all i want to do is call and make him wake up so i can babble at him in giddy four am fashion. but i won't. because i'm nice.

sometimes ryan helps me figure things out, and i'm grateful for it.
we have better conversations in the wee hours of morn than you have with everyone you know all day.
oh me, oh life!!

so many calls to make tomorrow! those who have been ignored in the throes of busy planning and winter depression watch out for my manic love attack etc.

take me off your friends list, by the way, if you don't actually like me.
i know at least one of you who should hop to it immediately,
if you haven't already created filters to make me go away.
jerks! be honest, already.

a limerick i wrote about my mom in third grade:
what can we say about molly?
she's as sweet as a cherry-red lolly.
no one in the place,
has so lovely a face,
and her being that way is no folly.

not bad. because i was eight.



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