straight and curly. Topsy Turvy. Beowulf!
Documentation is really important, I've decided. More pictures. More letters. More notes. I'm just going to write on everything in an attempt to make a mark. This also means writing down words that express my mental state. Because things like feelings are often fleeting, which makes them harder to record, but increasingly more important. 'Increasingly' because mine are often cyclical and because I only comprehend things visually; it's easier for me to learn when things are written down (regardless of whether I remember writing them).
Boom-dat, boom-dat, boom-boom-dat, boom-dat.
Thanksgiving break was necessary, lovely, and comforting. I am thankful. I am full. I am a consonant. Amy takes the son out of consonant. Ahhhhhh. I miss being a social activity facilitator. I think I resent WVU for having things planned already. I don't have a job anymore. Literally. Disaster. Figuratively?
J.New was really incredible. I've decided she is a prophet. I started crying when she began to sing. I tipped my head back and made the tears reabsorb, but it happened. The whole performance I could not shake the feeling that she was not human. She floated on stage in a sweeping white dress, flowing brown hair, and this completely fresh, innoncent expression. She was untouched and pristine. Playing the harp has angelic implications to begin with, but her manner and appearance added significant evidence. Bridgett commented on her seeming to struggle under the weight of the harp - as if she did not keep her concentration, she might be crushed. And sometimes when she sang she lost control and she would scream, but it was more of a screech, just for a second. It made me tense up. It was like her music was this burden she had to carry, and sometimes its terrible magnitude escaped her. And aren't most instruments of god at least a little unwilling? At the end she just floated away again. Unaffected by traditional concert etiquette, she never came back for an encore or made stupid jokes or advertised her albums for sale in the back. The only time I was reminded that she was performing a show was when she continually asked, "aauuuhmm, can I have a little less harp in my monitor, please?" (spoken as if you are a 6 year old girl). Bridgett also made the comment that her sudden and total disappearance was cinderella-esque and that she couldn't come back because she didn't exist the same way anymore. More evidence that she is not a regular person. Perhaps not prophet - but certainly not completely real. Anyway, she was good-better-best. Bob - just remember to call shotgun.
B and I got sad because we no longer had Joanna to look forward to. We'd been counting the weeks, then days until the concert and at its height we were already missing it. Funny. I miss measuring time with Joanna. When she was trapped in my stereo, it took until the middle of "Book Of Right On" to get to school. Whenever I hear the beginning of "Bridges and Balloons" I picture the curve around Trail's and remember how hard it is to go 25 there when you know it's going to be 50 in like 3 seconds.
I just had a lot of D-coke because I have to stay up late and write a paper (which this entry is preventing, to my pleasure). It reminds me of 10th grade Fleming-escapades. I must do things now.
EB
Boom-dat, boom-dat, boom-boom-dat, boom-dat.
Thanksgiving break was necessary, lovely, and comforting. I am thankful. I am full. I am a consonant. Amy takes the son out of consonant. Ahhhhhh. I miss being a social activity facilitator. I think I resent WVU for having things planned already. I don't have a job anymore. Literally. Disaster. Figuratively?
J.New was really incredible. I've decided she is a prophet. I started crying when she began to sing. I tipped my head back and made the tears reabsorb, but it happened. The whole performance I could not shake the feeling that she was not human. She floated on stage in a sweeping white dress, flowing brown hair, and this completely fresh, innoncent expression. She was untouched and pristine. Playing the harp has angelic implications to begin with, but her manner and appearance added significant evidence. Bridgett commented on her seeming to struggle under the weight of the harp - as if she did not keep her concentration, she might be crushed. And sometimes when she sang she lost control and she would scream, but it was more of a screech, just for a second. It made me tense up. It was like her music was this burden she had to carry, and sometimes its terrible magnitude escaped her. And aren't most instruments of god at least a little unwilling? At the end she just floated away again. Unaffected by traditional concert etiquette, she never came back for an encore or made stupid jokes or advertised her albums for sale in the back. The only time I was reminded that she was performing a show was when she continually asked, "aauuuhmm, can I have a little less harp in my monitor, please?" (spoken as if you are a 6 year old girl). Bridgett also made the comment that her sudden and total disappearance was cinderella-esque and that she couldn't come back because she didn't exist the same way anymore. More evidence that she is not a regular person. Perhaps not prophet - but certainly not completely real. Anyway, she was good-better-best. Bob - just remember to call shotgun.
B and I got sad because we no longer had Joanna to look forward to. We'd been counting the weeks, then days until the concert and at its height we were already missing it. Funny. I miss measuring time with Joanna. When she was trapped in my stereo, it took until the middle of "Book Of Right On" to get to school. Whenever I hear the beginning of "Bridges and Balloons" I picture the curve around Trail's and remember how hard it is to go 25 there when you know it's going to be 50 in like 3 seconds.
I just had a lot of D-coke because I have to stay up late and write a paper (which this entry is preventing, to my pleasure). It reminds me of 10th grade Fleming-escapades. I must do things now.
EB