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Aug. 27th, 2009


(no subject)

with limp arms, I can feel most of you.

Apr. 30th, 2009


(no subject)

Something amusing that happened telephonically;

Clayton: I just wrote an in class essay about how I'm a failure at life. I asked my teacher if "why I'm an epic jackass" was an acceptable topic and he didn't say no.
Savannah: That's cool, I'm writing about hysteria and cyborgs and vibrators.
Clayton: Really!? That's insane!
Savannah: Yeah...?
Clayton: And you thought my topic was weird?

This conversation confirms the need for the Sex & Gender class that I am currently completing.

It isn't weird to confess to your professor in a 500 word in-class essay the problems with your psychological constitution, but it is weird to write, not even to write but to talk about writing, a critical inquiry into technology's role in the cultural construction of female sexuality.

Confess, confess, confess. It's times like this I wish I'd let him read the ones about torture, forced confession, and sado-masochistic economies of desire.

Apr. 5th, 2009


(no subject)

bee keeper.

Apr. 4th, 2009


you can be henry miller and i'll be anais nin.

i make lists of back-up plans in my head; i put more effort into them than i do graduating. travel agent, flight attendant, for when my plans for being a historian and voyeur of desire fall through.

everything is beautiful today, so far.

Mar. 13th, 2009


(no subject)

drunk last night with dolci, casey, parish, and melissa. it was a weird sort of reunion for me. bryan showed up eventually. tina was there. i had a lot of fun, but ended up being far too drunk at 4am.

woke up hungover as fuck at 12.30. i think i preferred the whiskey-at-home-with-netflix-instant trend to the "get sloshed at the bar" thing i've been working on this week.

went to publix with bryan. pretended to buy groceries. postdrunk savannah in grocery store at noon is apparently a total wasp. proceeded to eat sushi, drink Naked juice, and listen to npr. i've never felt more white. but i mean... i like those things.

went to the beach to meet fam. burnt in 15 minutes.

spring break dude.

Mar. 6th, 2009


(no subject)

i dreamt that my friends and i were at a bar, but not a normal bar, a ROLLER bar. josh and brandon and melody were all wearing very classic 70s roller skates, lauren was dressed in some short sequined shorts waiting to go to an audition. she was dressed as a sort of off-beat columbia from rocky horror tap sequence. josh drove her to her audition. in roller skates. a lot of people were wearing brandon's jacket, including neumann, and i kept getting everyone confused. hilary and bryan were playing wack-a-mole.

moral of the story: fucking roller bar dudes.
also, spring break '99 x4 go.

happy watchmen day.

Mar. 2nd, 2009


(no subject)

do any of you have my copy of you shall know our velocity!? this is a shot in the dark.

and for another fragment: i think nightwood is rapidly approaching everything is illuminated and watchmen status, thus entering the race for 'favorite novel'. the more i work with it, the more i fail to capture it, the more i love it. why do i torture myself with elusive texts?

i'm not looking for answers.

Feb. 27th, 2009



new rule:
no fun and (scrabble) games before papers are written, else you end up with five hours of sleep and a 1500 word abstract of an 18pg paper.

let us ignore the fact that the last few courses are an interesting time to develop this strategy.

excerpt from an email to a professor (or, savannah-in-a-sentence):
"Please don't think I'm being flippant. I just can't seem to do anything right."

Feb. 26th, 2009


(no subject)

i feel sort of futureless today, but i like it.
suspended, suspension, suspense.

it's good to know that whenever the bottom falls out, i can still be a bibliophile.

i'm giving up for lent.

Feb. 11th, 2009


(no subject)

And if I don’t become a professional scholar?: A High Fidelity Inspired List

Laura: So you’ve got a list here of five things you would do if qualifications and time and history and salary were no object? One of them you don’t really want to do anyway. Wouldn’t you rather own your own record store than be an architect? …And you wouldn’t want to be a 16th century explorer or the King of France—well, there you go then. Dream job number five. Record store owner.

01. Flight attendant and/or commercial airline pilot, 1930s
02. Tour manager/planner for a band of close friends with no intention to be famous, any period
03. Pin-up model for Alberto Vargas, 1940s
04. Writer/arranger of oral histories, counter-cultural movements
05. Gay, black, male transvestite involved in the NYC drag ball circuit, 1960s-1980s
06. High fashion and/or couture designer
07. Travel agent, travel writer, trip planner
08. Moderately comfortable creative writer or musician
09. Flare bartender for a high volume and/or famous bar; or, alternately, a comfortable local dive
10. Burlesque dancer, any period
11. Used book store owner
12. Surrealist and/or modernist artist (any medium), revolutionary café dweller
13. Independently wealthy socialite
14. Photographer, photojournalist

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