|Birthday:||August 10th 1988|
|Education:||High school, School of life|
|Location:||United States, Massachusetts, Roslindale|
|Height:||5' 4" (163 cm)|
|Hair Style:||Straight - Long|
|Tattoo Info:||It is an eventual goal- at the base of my spine. |
|Piercing Info:||Just the ears.|
|More Details:||I've always thought I've had rather short fingers and square palms, but everybody tells me my skin there is soft. It's nice, because people tend to hold my hands.|
|Relationship Status:||Single - Never Married|
|Family Info:||Both my parents are remarried. I have two younger half-brothers, from my dad and stepmother. One is a sun-god, the other is a supersonic space man. My dad plants and composts things, for a living. He used to be a vagabond-hobo and always told me stories about where he's gone. He plays guitar. It's so nice to have a dad with properly, truely weathered hands.|
|Astrological Sign:||Leo (July 23 - Aug 22)|
|Smoking:||No. But not bothered by it|
|Liquor:||Social drinker. One or two|
|Biography/About:||I'm not ready for that yet.|
|Dislikes:||lazy writing habits; spite; jelousy; eating disorders; massive industries;
foods; unnatrual people; media's influence on our culture; negetive energy|
|Interests:||Almonds, etymology, hands, language, joy, rain, kundalini yoga & it's philosophies, baking, sustainability with the earth, photography, family history, lovers, college radio, vintage stuff, compost, social dancing (namely contra), sexuality, tea parties, dipthongs, eroticism, philosophy, farming, becomming a domestic goddess, vintage pin-ups|
|Goals:||I want my own museum, like the Isabella Stewart Gardener Museum in Boston. I want a house like that, stories like that, beauty like that. |
|People/Heroes:||My dad, when he was young, Amelie Poulain, Sleeping Beauty, Bette Paige, Ani DiFranco, Pablo Neruda, Isadora Duncan, V, beautiful people|
|Books:||V for Vendetta, Echo, I Capture the Castle, A Natural History of the Senses, A Natural History of Love, Ghost World, If On A Winter's Night a Traveller, Tales of Eva Luna, The Amber Spyglass, In the Forests of the Night, The World and Other Places|
|Authors:||Francescia Lia Block, Pablo Neruda, William Shakespeare, Emily Dickenson, Gregory Maguire, Barbra Kingslover, Diane Ackerman, Isabel Allende, Phillip Pullman|
|Bands/Artists:||The Dresden Dolls, Ani DiFranco, Stereolab, Erin McKeown, Yann Tiersen, Nick Drake, Metric, Melt-Banana, Le Tigre, Regina Spektor, Stereo Total, Eating Mr. Anderson, Jurassic Five, Joni Mitchell, Asobi Seksu, Patsy Cline, The Beatles, The Mosquitos, Bruce Fulford, Immortal Technique, Devendra Banhart, Aesop Rock, Broken Social Scene, Daddy, Yo La Tengo, The Flaming Lips, Mirah, Bjork, Magnetic Fields, Polyphonic Spree, Brazilian Girls, DJ Shadow, Josephine Baker, Sondre Lerche, Tegan and Sara, Meg Hutchinson|
|Albums/CDs:||Astral Weeks, Fear of Music, The Empress, Hardnose the Highway|
|Songs:||Us, Anticar, La Valse d'Amelie, Perfect Fit, Succexy, This Bouquet, Animals, Love Affair|
|Movies:||, My First Mister, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Chocolate, Frida, I <3 Huckabees, Hedwig and the Angry Inch, Brazil, Delicatessen, The Princess Bride, Uzimaki, Napoleon Dynamite, Il Postino, Before Sunrise, Ghost World, Chocolate, Fight Club, Happy Accidents, Howel's Moving Castle, Triplets of Belleville, Me and You and Everyone We Know, Six-Stringed Samauri (though I've yet to see it), indie films I've seen on t.v. but can't recall their names|
|Games:||video games are nasty things that turn people into acidic slugs...|
|Season:||Winter, Spring, solid summers.|
|Food:||almonds, armenian lentil soup, vegetarian pad thai, homeade bread, black licorice, ginger ice cream, dates, lebanese pizza, miso soup, saag paneer, pretty much anything organic|
|Words||Fuck; asbestos; writhe|
what I've always know, part II|
I believe in god like I believe in physics. God is as much of a
self-perpetuated mechanism as time or history or the assembly line. It
is just a way for us to go home; a kind of Flintstones car. You could
just walk but you have to use this whole other contraption to make you
think you're going somewhere.
(Don't get me wrong. I have a very intimate faith. I just fail to see why it matters whether god's out or in.)
Sorry I haven't got a cleaner allegory. Would it help if I told you
what happened? How I parallel this in my live life? If I bitch more
about getting fat or college...
In the affirmative.
It's not so much.
I am not too much.
I've been considering my strange blood-time. Every thing was so much harder and longer for my mother, who decided never to wait for anybody. It was survival, while my dad could afford to wait by the road for the right ride.
Here are the tracks I've laid from the latest weeks; they read like thick repitition and slum drum.
"look at us. playing back against our own bit tongues. Two-bit, lock-pick pornography. this is how we sell ourselves. how many times have i proffered my body as a tool of keeping it all wrapped-up, packed-up and choked up in that satin? I have to promise not to become red...
girlfriend in a coma, i know, it's serious.
I can't stop thinking about it down there.
North Carolina. June, in perfect health:
"Quiedra- Este monan~as solamente me recuerdan a los muslos, a los se`nos y a las naglas perfectas. En este tierra no hay solamente tu cuerpo. Tambien, hay el camino vas de excursio`n con los pies desnudo. Es el regocijo que te comes. Caminas con silencio y alegri`a.
Tu mano derecha."
And my blood luck. Which is really either destiny or "getting away with it."
I'm not your son. I wish I didn't have to pull in my tits to stick out my thumb.
I know I'm going to stay there.