“If I” by Demetri Martin
I just watched the whole 48 minutes of “If I” on Youtube. And I’ve got to say, the man is a genius. I mean, I’d realized this to a certain extent before, but now I know that he’s literally a genius. The first video is here.
What I find particularly amazing are the poems. The first is a poem written entirely out of words on a beer bottle. The second is a 224 word palindrome (having to do with a mailman?).
A surprisingly true youtube comment on one of the videos:
“Sounds like a confession. A long, nerdy, beautiful confession.”
Birthday Eve.
I’m just making this up as I go, so I’m not going to pretend like it’s any good (in fact, it’s probably going to be exceedingly terrible).
Eternal excuse – youth
shrinks, only seen by “blind”.
“I am only understood by melody words,
chatter is tuneless.”
– so says the “useless”.
“Even as we learn to see
we should not forget to sing.”
Wild girl, crazy woman
what difference be?
I feel like I don’t talk about anything else.
This is what my blog has become: “blah blah blah WZLY blah radio mumble bumble web casting grahhhh MUSIC.”
Ah heh. On that note, I’m subbing for two people in this next week, so my radio schedule looks like this:
Thursday, 19th (MY BIRTHDAY):
DJ-ing from 6pm-8pm
11-midnight
Tuesday, 24th:
from 6-8pm
Y’all should listen (if possible). Clearly. Because I love you Ventura people!
Here’s the article that I wrote about WZLY back in September:
The Wellesley News now has a website! My article.
Woot!
Ahahaha, wow.
I love how when I posted poetry, my blog stats died. Come on, am I the only one who finds art more interesting than the randomness that often inhabits my life? Especially the Brooks poem….ahhhh. I’ve loved it for years, since the first time I read it. (Even though I didn’t fully understand it at the time. Heck, who says that I fully understand it now?)
So. I just found out that Wellesley Volunteers is hosting a Haircut Donation. For the Pantene Pro-V “Beautiful Lengths” program. On my birthday. I am SO TEMPTED.
I’ve donated my hair twice. The second time was for “Beautiful Lengths”, which I trust a lot more than Locks of Love. I was thinking about doing it again after I get back for Spring semester (aka, when it warms up).
Problems with me donating my hair on my birthday:
1. It’s going to get cold. Hair might be useful.
2. I was also thinking about getting a helix piercing. Doing both on the same day might be a little drastic?
3. …this one might be a little vain, but… Brad really likes my long hair, and I told him I wouldn’t cut it until after January.
4. Also kind of strange…my roommate has very short hair and multiple ear piercings. Am I the only one who thinks that it might be weird to randomly start pseudo-looking like my roommate, even if it is completely unintentional?
Good things about donating my hair now:
1. Well, donating is always good.
2. It’s really convenient that I can make such a change on my 18th birthday…it’ll help make the day eventful.
3. There’s less chance of my hair freezing in the winter.
4. It can grow out for a month before I go home…although I’m not sure how much that would be…
Well, I guess I still have two weeks to think it over.
Poetry.
Just some poems that I find particularly lovely, in their own way.
The Sunne Rising – John Donne
BUSIE old foole, unruly Sunne,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windowes, and through curtaines call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers seasons run?
Sawcy pedantique wretch, goe chide 5
Late schoole boyes, and sowre prentices,
Goe tell Court-huntsmen, that the King will ride,
Call countrey ants to harvest offices;
Love, all alike, no season knowes, nor clyme,
Nor houres, dayes, moneths, which are the rags of time. 10
Thy beames, so reverend, and strong
Why shouldst thou thinke?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a winke,
But that I would not lose her sight so long:
If her eyes have not blinded thine, 15
Looke, and to morrow late, tell mee,
Whether both the’India’s of spice and Myne
Be where thou leftst them, or lie here with mee.
Aske for those Kings whom thou saw’st yesterday,
And thou shalt heare, All here in one bed lay. 20
She’is all States, and all Princes, I,
Nothing else is.
Princes doe but play us; compar’d to this,
All honor’s mimique; All wealth alchimie.
Thou sunne art halfe as happy’as wee, 25
In that the world’s contracted thus;
Thine age askes ease, and since thy duties bee
To warme the world, that’s done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art every where;
This bed thy center is, these walls, thy spheare. 30
“I died for Beauty” – Emily Dickinson
I died for Beauty — but was scarce
Adjusted in the Tomb
When One who died for Truth, was lain
In an adjoining Room –
He questioned softly “Why I failed”?
“For Beauty”, I replied –
“And I — for Truth — Themself are One –
We Brethren, are”, He said –
And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night –
We talked between the Rooms –
Until the Moss had reached our lips –
And covered up — our names –
Boy Breaking Glass – Gwendolyn Brooks
Whose broken window is a cry of art
(success, that winks aware
as elegance, as a treasonable faith)
is raw: is sonic: is old-eyed première.
Our beautiful flaw and terrible ornament.
Our barbarous and metal little man.
“I shall create! If not a note, a hole.
If not an overture, a desecration.”
Full of pepper and light
and Salt and night and cargoes.
“Don’t go down the plank
if you see there’s no extension.
Each to his grief, each to
his loneliness and fidgety revenge.
Nobody knew where I was and now I am no longer there.”
The only sanity is a cup of tea.
The music is in minors.
Each one other
is having different weather.
“It was you, it was you who threw away my name!
And this is everything I have for me.”
Who has not Congress, lobster, love, luau,
the Regency Room, the Statue of Liberty,
runs. A sloppy amalgamation.
A mistake.
A cliff.
A hymn, a snare, and an exceeding sun.
Mantras. (which may or may not be true)
My classes are not beyond me.
It is not too late to do better. I have two months.
I am not a bad person for not understanding time management.
I will pass all of my classes.
I actually do care. And not just because my parents care.
I will do better. I will do better. iwilldobetteriwilldobetteriwill…
I realized why I love Thoreau a few breakfasts ago.
The fall leaves and cold wind never fails to make me smile. Some days the clouds and mist and the swirling, ahhh – the tragic beauty. I want so much to lay in the grass and be. This is true living, Thoreau says. This is escape, I say. I’ve always wanted escape, and Thoreau only validates this by telling me that my secret temptation is something that should be sought after, and with haste!
I’ve decided that I have a psychological problem. I create a fake reality. It is a coping mechanism. In this reality, I have nothing to do. Therefore, I have no stress. Therefore, I can do what I want.
I do this because I know that I will freak out if I fully realize all the things I actually have to do. I will break down. Sure, I can say the sentence, “I have to write an essay, do calculus homework and econ homework”, but I don’t actually mean it. Usually I can pull out of this thought process in order to get stuff done at the very last second, but obviously it is not as amazing as it would have been otherwise. I do not procrastinate, I hide under mental covers.
Anyway, eff this emo-ness. I’m sure my problems are somehow related to my brain chemicals, and therefore any negative emotions at this time are irrelevant.
Good things about the last 24 hours:
WZLY! All of it, ahhhh. This is what I should be doing.
An amazing nacho lunch today! Jalapenos remind me of home.
Getting a Spongebob postcard from Felipe. =D
Wearing my comfy “grandpa” sweaters.
Apparently!
This blog won’t make sense unless you read my last one.
Lawl, talk about coincidences.
According to Maria and some resourcefulness, the girl who has a radio show before me is the same girl that I want to strangle because of her fake polite laugh.
Fantastic.
Guys, girls, radio.
One of the things that I miss the most about males is their voice.
Part of the reason that I’ve been watching “Tales of Mere Existence” videos for the past hour, definitely.
Of course, that’s not the only thing.
I miss being able to tell dead baby jokes and not feel guilty.
I miss being able to hug the awkward ones.
I miss being “one of the guys” and chilling, playing rock band.
I still laugh loudly (the girls in my dorm LOVE it), but I’ve become more annoyed with how some girls laugh. Emma, my roommate, is one of the few people who I don’t judge on this. Her laughter is practically silent, but it’s ok, even adorable in it’s delicate nature. But some girls, OMG. Giggling politely is so annoying. There’s one girl in my math class in particular…I want to strangle her.
I’ve noticed that there are more “classical prep” girls around than I’ve known in the past. I don’t really mind them, in some ways I kind of admire having a professional attitude. And I haven’t seen any open hostility, which is nice. But I feel very separate from them…I’m the kind of girl who will wear a men’s large flannel shirt and worn down jeans. I wear leather jackets. I am practically unaffected by the violence in movies like Fight Club, and greatly prefer those movies to romantic comedies. I own a tutu. I love awkward conversations most of the time. I laugh like an explosion, I have no sense of tact, I’m legally still a child.
But, all these things that make me atypical…kind of make me a bad ass. Actually, I’m not sure about that one, but that’s what Anna said, so I’ll go with it.
Ok, the most important part of this blog:
RADIO SHOW ANNOUNCEMENT: My show is now officially Thursdays 11pm – midnight. One hour, yes, and I’m perfectly fine with it (I asked for it, actually). I think I’m starting this Thursday, so woot. West Coasters should tune in at 8pm at wzly.net.
