Monday, September 28, 2009

Wednesday, September 23, 2009


Diurnal is the antonym of Nocturnal.

I learn something new every day,
now if only I could learn to spell...

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Try Some Fucking Originality

People conform to nonconformity. Lately, I've noticed many people who listen to "undiscovered" music or wear "vintage" clothes not because they like to, but because they're trying to "fit out" in order to fit in. You've just heard of an indie band? Don't tell me you've been listening to them for ages. Do you really read those classic books you talk about or did you look up the summary the night before online? Do you automatically think a band sucks if they're popular enough to be played on the radio?

Wiki definition of a Hipster: people associated with alternative culture, particularly alternative music, independent rock, alternative hip-hop, independent film and a lifestyle revolving around thrift store shopping, eating organic, locally grown, vegetarian, and/or vegan food, drinking local beer (or even brewing their own), listening to public radio, and riding fixed-gear bicycles.

What happens when being original becomes unoriginal? When everyone tries to fit in to a stereotype that's whole point is to "fit out"? When "alternative culture" becomes the norm? How can it still be considered alternative?

Bottom Line, Do whatever the fuck you want, but please, make sure you're actually interested it. Don't go spouting about anarchy, atheism or apathy just to be cool, really.

Friday, September 11, 2009


I love waking up to a gray day
I love the sound of wipers across a windshield
I love running from the car, attempting to avoid getting wet
I love staring out the window of a monotonous classroom to watch the droplets
I love driving all my friends home so they won’t get soaked
I love getting to work early and sitting in the parking lot,
listening to the pitter-patter on the car roof
I love standing under the awning on your cigarette break
and blowing clouds of gray into the already gray sky
I love how the nighttime stoplights shine on slick streets after a day full of rain

Wednesday, September 9, 2009


"I can't believe how much i've changed and how much i've stayed the same"
said during a late night-drunken-cigarette-smoking chat, and it's very true.

That Time

Hey remember the time when I found a human tooth down on Delancey
Hey remember that time we decided to kiss anywhere except the mouth
Hey remember that time when my favorite colors were pink and green
Hey remember that month when I only ate boxes of tangerines
So cheap and juicy, tangerines

Hey remember that time when I would only read Shakespeare

Hey remember that other time when I would only read the backs of cereal boxes
Hey remember that time I tried to save a pigeon with a broken wing
A street cat got him by morning and I had to bury pieces of his body in my building's playground
I thought I was going to be sick, I thought I was going to be sick

Hey remember that time when I would only smoke Parliaments

Hey remember that time when I would only smoke Marlboros
Hey remember that time when I would only smoke Camels
Hey remember that time when I was broke
I didn't care I just bummed from my friends
Bum, bum, bum, bum, bum...

Hey remember that time when you O.D'ed

Hey remember that other time when you O.D'ed for the second time
Well in the waiting room while waiting for news of you I hallucinated I could read your mind
And I was on a lot of shit too but what I saw, man, I tell you it was freaky, freaky

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Who Am I?

name: ashley
age: sixteen.
city: baltimore.
occupation: dishwasher, laundryfolder, listener, learner, bestfriend
what is your current state of mind? awake, coffee-filled.
what is your greatest extravagance? nothing about me is extravagant, quite the opposite.
what is your greatest fear? that i will never find someone who completely understands me.
what is the trait you most deplore in others? prejudice, demeaning
what do you consider the most overrated virtue? obedience or majesty.
if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? my lack of ability to make decisions.
what is the quality you most like in a man? humor and intelligence.
what is the quality you most like in a woman? compassion and creativity
which words of phrases do you most overuse? "i know what you mean"
which talent would you most like to have? i'd like to have a photographic memory, or the ability to be a photographer.
what or who is the greatest love of your life? my life has barely begun
where would you like to live? a small quaint town somewhere in New England. I'd like to travel everywhere though.
what is your favorite occupation? I'd like to be a graphic designer after college
what is your most treasured possession? my memories.
who are your favorite writers? charles bukowski, e. e. cummings, mitch albom, robert frost, j.k. rowling, lewis carroll, alice sebold
who is your favorite hero of fiction? Harry motherfucking Potter
who are your heroes in real life? my great grandmother
what celeb are you crushing on right now? James Franco

what do you most value in your friends? the ability to be myself around them and know I won't be ridiculed.
what is your most marked characteristic? people always see me as happy
how would you like to die? with a feeling of content.
what is your motto? "Be who you are and say what you will, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter, don't mind." - Dr Seuss

Friday, September 4, 2009

Summer Night

It's late, I don't know what hour it is, only that I am the only one awake. I quietly step outside, careful not to wake those who are already dreaming. I am in my own world right now. The night is warm, comforting. 71 degrees. The day's humidity has been replaced with night's soft stillness. I walk to the spot in the field where the house's porch light cannot reach; the dew on the grass cools my toes. I sit and the wet blades tickle my legs. I take out a cigarette and put it off-center between my lips. Pulling a lighter from my dress pocket, I light the tobacco and the peach taste on my tongue is tarnished with smoke. I exhale; the smoke seems thicker than it is during the day, a light gray contrast to the dark sky. The night's atmosphere is a dusty blue-violet color that you can only see out in the country, where no artificial light damages the view. The woods are completely black against the sky. Inside the shadows of the trees are small, quick flashes like cameras at a football game. Thousands of tiny fireflies trying to find their perfect match, another who is in sync with their illumination. A soul mate. The flickers give the trees a supernatural glow. The nighttime woods hold an ancient magic that most don't get to experience during the day, and i feel special knowing I am the only one seeing this right now. I take another drag and listen to the sounds that give the still air life. A soft melody of chirps from the frog pond at the bottom of the hill reaches my ears. High soprano sounds are accompanied by the occasional bass croak; flutes and violins playing to the beat of a drum. I exhale gray smoke through my nose. A wind stirs the air and goosebumps rise on the arms even though the breeze is warm. I lay back into the grass that needs to be cut and stare up at the sky. I listen and look and feel the world around me as if I'm on some alien planet. A whole new world comes alive while we sleep, dream. I take a last pull from my cigarette and stub it out in the lawn next to me. I stand and begin my walk back inside. The lighter in my pocket weighs down the left side of my dress. The night is alive.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

agenda book #6

I've been neglecting you. and I'm sorry.