at 18.30 we shall be gone

to read:
-everything is illuminated, jonathan safran foer
-huck finn, samuel clements--haha, I'm a riot (only the true literature nerds will get that one, it's more or less the equivalent of an eric blair reference)
-something by dave eggers--perchance zeitoun? oblivion?
-hapworth 16, 1924--j. d. salinger
-the new yorker
-thoreau
-robert burns (in italics and said by phoebe caulfield--salinger NEVER desecrates his work with the unrefined bolding)

to listen:
-goodnight saigon--billy joel
-avec sa petite gueule d'ange--rozz jack
-my girl--the mamas and the papas
-you really got me--the kinks
-got to get you into my life--the beatles
-i'm free--the who
-born on the bayou--ccr
-el scorcho--weezer (aaah, memories...)
-blinded by the light--manfred mann and co.
-sweetest thing--u2
-you're going to lose that girl--the beatles
-enfant soldat--rozz jack
-longview--green day
-gold dust woman--fleetwood mac... always.
-paper planes--m.i.a.

to watch:
-eight is enough
-help! for film night
-napoleon dynamite
-slumdog millionaire; never gets old, man
-um... yeah...

to do:
-sit around and watch the tube, but nothing's on (longview reference). nah, i don't actually want to do that, i don't even like tv
-babysit the rottinger kids
-elude creepy sherry with cristina
-hmm. just learn korean (via james), arabic (via johns hopkins), some branch of hindi (via krupal, my kindred spirit), spanish (via mi papá, mi abuelita, y sra. gonzalez), french (via Francesca, ma maman, et Michel Thomas), italian (via rosetta stone), german (via die welt and the rest of my german newspapers), dutch (who knows how i'll learn that one), and every other language known to man. c'est bon ? Pas de quoi !

to write:
-in my brand-spanking-new journal
-a story in spanish
-a novel for november *gag cough sputters under pressure*
-about krupal's and my plans for the future ( organically-eating, book-reading, restaurant-owning, terribly-guitar-playing, idiot-avoiding, dishwashing, chicken-and-lion-owning hermits who move to spain and inconveniently get trampled in the running of the bulls)

[14] Books I've Read This Month

Inspired by the blogger Cake.
Sorry if I forgot some. Who am I apologizing to? Myself? Good grief, Charlie Brown.
तारांकन
nine stories--j.d. salinger,
multiples--adam thirlwell and co.,
the metamorphosis--franz kafka,
my beautiful hippie--janet nichols lynch,
the outsider--albert camus,
the rock snob*s dictionary--david kamp and steven daly
the great gatsby--f. scott fitzgerald,
franny and zooey--j.d. salinger,
bad boy--wdm,
schooled--gordon korman,
the beatles anthology--the beatles,
eggs--jerry spinelli,
what do fish have to do with anything?--avi,
the lexicon of stupidity--ross and kathryn petras,
and a plethora of short stories: Salinger's illegally downloaded out-of-print publications. See what this guy's made me into? I'm a common criminal!
तारांकन
Okay, this list was not valid, I didn't read that many books since 20 September! Lies for a liar. You lie to yourself and your intellectual community. So I just went back and edited it, and it's now a puny list of the books I actually read this past month.
Failure makes me very sad.

Am, plus tabs

I hate that sadness in your eyes...
***
Have you ever felt such stifling guilt toward someone that it just about kills you (not in the Holden Caulfield way, either) every time you see them, because THEY DON'T CARE? Which probably doesn't sound too bad, but it really is. Really, really. Especially because they don't care, that person. And especially if that person completely idolizes you. Which is the case with my object of guilt. Oh man. Why am I so mean?
***
All For Leyna, Billy Joel;
Mmmbop, Hanson;
Mr. Lee, *HILDYYYY* the Vapors;
Drip, Drip, Drip, Chumbawamba;
Whistling in the Dark, They Might Be Giants;
Remember the Time, MJ (which I was singing in the locker room with Kai, good times, good times);
Alice's Restaurant, Arlo Guthrie;
C'est la Mode, Annie Philippe;
Knowing Me, Knowing You, ABBA;
and that's about it.
***
I should write every day, my Great Writing Teacher Slash Mentor Jessie "the Malebox" Male tells me, but it's so hard, what with homework and all. I mean, talk about hindrance of creativity! Mr. Schneider is killing us all.
And Spanish is still the best class. Even though old D-Bear's a little weird. Dayvon makes up for it.
And I have a headache from yelling at Vivek. Whatever, it was a fun time.
And I convinced James to watch Glee tonight! Hah. This is going to be great for me.
But I still feel bad...
¿Por qué no soy afectuosa?
Angie.

Some things I've been doing

Because there's something so nice and stress-free about a nice list.
*reading--and how! Heh, I love the 50s. I've been reading books that I've seen referenced in books that I've seen referenced around--whooooooa, meta! For example, my maman got The Catcher in the Rye at a book sale some odd years ago and I read it sometime this past year and loved it... as you can see. My whole goddam world has been goddam-ified and Holden-ified, and, hello, my name is Phoebe Caulfield? So my book flow chart is as follows:
L'Etranger --> The Catcher --> Franny and Zooey --> The Penal Colony --> The Metamorphosis, and that's what I'm reading now. Fun stuff. My dad was about to kill one of those escapees from the stink-bug epidemic, but I shrieked something along the lines of "OH MY LORD DAD DON'T KILL IT IT COULD BE GREGOR!" and that was that.
*Post-Its--usually there is nothing I despise more than a good old quote. Except when they're book quotes! That are used out of context and applied to everyday life! But "inspirational" or "endearing" quotes that you hang up around your house to be cute or something, Francesca and Jessie will give you the NO face.
Let's take a swell movie. Forrest Gump, say. That thing is just chock-goddam-full of nice pithy quotes! But noooo, inSTEAD of taking some memorable quote from one of those hippies--Stoner Brett, anyone? Ryan Murphy should just make an anthology of Stoner Brett quotes--or even the well-known "Run, Forrest, run!" everyone decides to glom over the good ol' life's-a-box-of-chocolates one. ¿POR QUÉ?
I am too tired to even finish this, and I must get up early to help Mrs. F and Mrs. R with the ever-helpful James Hong (Francesca, don't say anything or you will be mysteriously and brutally murdered during the night, so sad, so sad), so that's all for now, folks! #looneytunesreferencedidanyonecatchthat

The sky's pink

It's been a month.
Wow, guys, wow.
I thought I was a dedicated writer!
Well, now I know why WDM dropped out of high school and why Mark Twain never let school interfere with his education...
School is a regular nuisance.
Now that I have, you know, mentors... meaning writers... that have been dead years and years now...
Except, of course, my dear esteemed WDM,
And my experiences at Blue Tree--SHOUTOUT TO SIENA IF YOU'RE READING THIS!--I know what's of true value: outside-of-the-box stuff. Arabic classes at JHU. Selling your sewing machine for a typewriter and then typing I hate this typewriter a few mazillion times and taping the notes to your walls. Or Post-Its. That's my current project, Post-Its on my walls in French or German or Spanish or quotes from The Great Gatsby or Franny and Zooey or something. It's a pleasurable life for me.