I have found some of my old songs that I downloaded via Napster -- that is, when I had Napster. I guess this sort of in a way describes my personal musical style that I had a few months ago. (There were more, but I bought the CDs and all for them, so they were deleted -- also, some were accidentally deleted with the Napster program.) Anyway, this is what was found in the treasure chest:
* Angie Aparo, "Spaceship"
* Bran Van 3000, "Drinking in LA"
* Byrds, The, "Turn Turn Turn"
* Cohen, Mark, "Walking in Memphis"
* Counting Crows, "Long December"
* Dust Brothers, "XFiles Theme"
* Faithless, "Don't Leave"
* Fleetwood Mac, "Landslide"
* Grateful Dead, "Touch of Grey"
* Guns N Roses, "November Rain"
* Jackson, Janet, "Again"
* Loeb, Lisa, "Stay"
* Moffatts, The, "Misery"
* Radiohead, "Paranoid Android"
* Sneaker Pimps, "Six Underground"
* Soul Asylum, "Runaway Train"
* Spice Girls, "Goodbye"
* Supergrass, "Pumping on your Stereo"
* Third Eye Blind, "Anything"
* The Nightmare Before Christmas, "Making Christmas", "This is Halloween", and "Town Meeting"
* Travis, "Hit Me Baby One More Time" and "Why Does it Always Rain on Me?"
* Weezer, "Buddy Holly"
* Wilson Phillips, "Hold On"
You could've voted for:
Christian Shelton, Scott C. Palmer, Bill Gates, Teddy the dog, Andrij, Bingo the dog, Harrison Ford, Mark Twain, Admiral Ackbar, Fig Bar Man, Quentin Burdick, Ash, Diddley Squat the hamster, Papoon, Ric Flair, King Crayon, Sammy the cat, Kibo, Dave Barry, So Cool the bull, you, or nobody at all.
I find it highly amusing that someone else is in town.
A teacher at my school is leaving and not coming back until after Thanksgiving due to the fact that there are an alarmingly amount of mean students that invade my school -- it was considered a stupid prank in the beginning, but then things got deeper and deeper, as if it were a knife digging into this teacher's heart, turning and turning it around to cause more pain.
First, they (being anonymous bastards) set a few things on her door on fire. It was a small deal, it seemed, to the students: some thought that the teacher was mean and deserved it all. (I myself cannot speak for this, because I never had her for a teacher.)
Then, they graffitied her car with the number 666 and sending a (anonymous) note saying that she was going to be shot on Monday, as well as any other student that gets in this anonymous bastard's way. Now, this idea scares me. In the past year, there have been two threats of "killing every student" -- one made accidentally (causing the student to be expelled from the school system), and one made a few days ago. So far, there have been two or three students (male students, I may add) that have been called to the office, claiming that they were the blame for such a terrible thing. It is a terrible thing. And I feel sorry for the teacher -- I mean, is History such a bad class?
And yet with her not being there on Monday, I'm still afraid of going to school.
I wanna glide down over Mulholland / I wanna write her name in the sky / Gonna free fall out into nothin' / Gonna leave this world for a while
Tom Petty, "Free Fallin'"
OK, I am currently:
Reading: Girl Walking Backwards (Bett Williams)
Watching: Jean de Florette (w/subtitles)
Listening: Little Plastic Castle, Ani DiFranco
Obsessing: Brittany Murphy
That is all.
Found in NYLON magazine, 11/2000 issue (page 25):
As for what she has commented on, that is for you to find out.
I'm in on this one -- are you?
Happy birthday to you / Happy birthday to you / Happy birthday, dear Meredith (formally known as Her) / Happy birthday to you...
Here it is: the suddenly famous article in THE NEW YORKER. (courtesy of fairvue.com)
cradling the softest, warmest part of you in my hand / feels like a little baby bird fallen from the nest / i think that your body is / something i understand / i think that i'm happy, / i think that i'm blessed
i've got a lack of inhibition /
i've got a loss of perspective /
i've had a little bit to drink /
and it's making me think /
that i can jump ship and swim /
that the ocean will hold me /
that there's got to be more /
than this boat i'm in
'cuz they can call me crazy if i fail /
all the chance that i need /
is one-in-a-million /
and they can call me brilliant /
if i succeed /
gravity is nothing to me, moving at the speed of sound /
i'm just going to get my feet wet /
until i drown
and i teeter between tired /
and really, really tired /
im wiped and im wired but i guess its just as well /
because i built my own empire /
out of car tires and chicken wire /
and i'm queen of my own compost heap /
and i'm getting used to the smell
Ani DiFranco, "Swan Dive"
I am in the school's "library" (I quote that because, well, there is nothing else but books on photography and the Holocaust), typing up because I feel that there is something that can be said. I am joined on this journey by Chris, a living piece of wire. He is randomly speaking French and mimicking everything I type. (Chris thinks that there is no "k" in "mimicking". To make him happy: mimicing.) Yes, Chris and I are having fun in the library. Uh-huh.
I shouldn't be awake right now -- I should be under the covers (which I am sitting on at the moment) and asleep, listening to the dog howl across the street. But, alas, I sit in the dark -- on the laptop -- typing up about the day's activities.
First off, I am happy. My life is going good, everyone close to me (which, it seems these days, is only three people -- but, none the less...) seems to be happy, and life is just peachy from all corners. I ripped up a carpet today, and now we (my family) are thinking of something to do with a bare, cement floor. What are some of ideas? My mom wants to draw/paint a "Twister" (the foot/hand game) pad down on the ground, and splat paint elsewhere. As for me, I just want a nice Oriental rug.. or at least blotches of astroturf in the ground. But no one listens to me, I suppose.
I'm tired now. I'll speak more later.