any TV show involving sharks, what they do, why they attack, how they swim or hunt or breathe, is awesome. sharks are the motherfucking shit. oh my GOD sharks are so cool. a memory that hits me when i think about sharks: summer after 9th grade, at the beach with monica's family, going to the aquarium, i wore jeans the whole time because i was really self-conscious about my body, because it was high school. let mention that she was making my guilt-ridden hidden catholic-dominated sexuality all confusilated and combusticated on this particular beach trip and we sat across from each other on teh industrial carpeted ledge of this tank, and watched the Most Beautiful sharks swim around in the salt water. they were young sharks, and their skin was so beautiful, like coppery-colored in the bluish lights with these iridescent purple undertones, and i sat hypnotized by their undulations with monica's warm calf grazing my ankle.

OK how egotistical am i, looking at this and seeing that trying to talk about how kickass sharks lasted about 5 lines and then i spend like 3 paragraphs talking about MY memory sort of relating to sharks. for now i will consider this a form of overdetailed storytelling. hmmm. anyway, i think that's how memories are, you can't separate the smells from the consciousness from the sexuality from the morbidness (is that a word?) from the textures from the sharpness from the humidity, etc.

so last night i was thinking about intentions and what they mean (as i watched TV, specifically the last 30 minutes of "Dune" on the science fiction channel--and as a side note i would like to explain this because i am not a "dune" person, but once i sat on scott selisker's porch and watched like 4 billion hours or something of this movie and then missed the last 30 minutes. so we caught it on TV). i don't have the time to explain it all out but this internal conversation involved thinking about meanings and thinking things were great even when they don't come out as complete successes and if i only thought that cause i was white and one of those gringa feminists. anyway, it was cool.

i went to the mall the other day. i bought a hoodie, a rainbow colored halter top and a blue dress with crocheting over the boobs, and i got my ears pierced. i worry about how great shopping makes me feel. it's not really about the consumption, although i guiltily LOVE clothing. i feel stupid saying "it was on sale" and i don't want to believe that "every woman needs to feel beautiful and buy pretty girly things" thing. perhaps this is ridiculous but i felt weird because there are some things i can resist and others i can't, spending $$ is always a weird issue for me, consumption of food is another. i think it has to do with self-providence (if that makes sense) and auto-sustenance (same thing). cause i don't spend disgusting amounts of money all the time or anything, but i have this weird behavior of holding out and not spending ANY money, like NONE, for months and then spending a lot at once and then getting all scared and then not spending money or anything. same with feeding my body, i do that thing where i starve my body for most of the day in order to deal with the stress of being really busy and get really weird and mentally clear in a desperate intense racing way, and when i dance my body feels wound so tight. and then i get home and i blow the roof off and i eat a lot of food standing up all nervously. so anyway, i know that behavior's really UNBALANCED and UNCOOL, so i need to work on that. my body hates it, obvioulsy. i wonder if it's one way of punishing my body for being so difficult and unacceptable and stubborn and fat and strange-looking and limiting, and why don't i have more control over it? it's weird. i don't really feel SORRY for myself talking about this, that's not what i'm getting out of it, i just get weirded out when i think about it cause when i'm doing it it feels so unnatural yet so confortable.

dammit i'm so tired of bird themes in songs, such as "spread her wings" and "fly free" and "sing her song". people aren't birds, dammit. people don't sound anything like birds usually. i think skinny men are more like birds than women.

jon called last night. the conversation was interesting. it made me sad, angry, but mostly amused. he's going to charge brian labor costs for having to clean up after him. does it ever occur to jon that perhaps he had to spend 3 days cleaning the place after we left is that HE'S ANALLY PICKY/FREAKY-OBSESSIVE. i don't even care, here's what i think about the house, and i'm ready to forget the rest: it was interesting, we tried, we are very different people, it has become an interesting memory, the end.

word on the street: my truck kicks ass. let me explain a little about my truck situation. ever since i was a lil punkin, i have loved pickups, i don't know why. they're sexy (usually) and when i was 16 i reeeeeeeeeeeally really wanted one. so i was abotu to buy one from some guy, and then my dad found Laz and we got really excited and the black jeep comanche truck with no other purpose than being cute was abandoned. so i knew that the next vehicel i would becoem involved with would be a pickup truck, cause it's written in the stars. so my interest in trucks is purely aesthetic, as in i dom't really need a big one to haul truckloads of mulch or other masculine things around. i don't have a furniture restoration business, i don't work at a steel mill, i am a college student who teaches little kids, and my hobbies are dancing, sewing, camping, performance, and activism, so pretty much i have no qualms about admitting my reasons for getting this truck: it was pretty (aaaaaaaand my car was about to keel over and die), and if you have flexibility and some choices and some time then why not get exactly wghat you want while you still know how to kick ass. life is theater, so you might as welll have some style. that was pretty queen-sounding. no name yet, though. we're calling her "the gray ghost" so far, it might end up sticking if nothing better comes along. deirdre suggested "sasha" and ben said "it looks like a hound dog". so, who knows. if anyone who reads this (ha-ha, old bean i must mean IF anyone reads this) can come up with anything cool then please offer some suggestions, i have plenty of ideas but stagnant decision-making skills. i wish i could stick a picture of her on here, but, you know, i can't really. other plans i have for her include an airbrushed license plate for the front, a pinstripe, and a customized shifter knob (hmmmm....silver cobra or continue the horse theme?).

my 14 year old enthusiasm for the beatles has cooled a little over these years but sergeant pepper's IS SO AWESOME STILL.

one thing is for sure, though. before

i die, i WILL fuck a sumo wrestler. they are SO SEXY their skin tone is so warm and those loincloth things are beautiful wrapped fabric, so i dig the outfits, even if they die at young ages. talk about sacrifice for culture.