Write Myself to Sleep

where nostalgia lies

seamstress4theband — Sun, 23 Dec 2007 01:10:12 +0000

I bet there is something in the world that I could just see, or see in action, that would bring me back to the way I thought when I was a child – which is an imperfect way of thinking in our circumstances, but in a perfect world it would be . . . perfect. I wonder what that is.

the castle ghosts of england

seamstress4theband — Thu, 08 Nov 2007 03:42:11 +0000

the shadow cast from a pencil along the paper
in the late night electric light
dares me
to write something beautiful
but not just a stirring of cheap emotion
by the scribbling of some line
that you cannot quite place though it is
vaguely familiar
like some sitcom rerun as seen through half a dream

or even an effort to finally convey
an intangible feeling
or razorblade breathing
tortured sighs
and acid churning stomachs
tired veins
no, not tonight
for i have learned that…the illusion of communication
weans thin long after disillusion has
manifested itself

tonight doors creak and creatures creep
along corners and in and out of closets
with their shadowy frames and long fingernails
instilling once again that bacillus of
worthlessness
and self disgust
masked fury in the form of fear and resignation
now i can only hope that some day i can create beauty
to make up for my ugliness
and the demons will be killed
by unconditional love

maggie

and i love you

I Saw Elvis and the Grim Reaper at the ATM.

seamstress4theband — Sat, 03 Nov 2007 14:17:19 +0000

Halloween was fun. I ended up going as a thunder cloud since Hazel had a gold piece of board shaped like a lightening bolt. She found it in the depths of Chinatown and actually carried it all the way back to Union Square. I wore all gray and black, and even painted my face gray. Then I attached the lightening bolt to me with string, and added two white balloons to the string so they could hang like clouds on the side of my hip.

Emily decided to go as a raccoon and Blair went as a bundle of balloons. They weren’t ready yet when Ali arrived (She was Dora the Explorer) so we went along without them, thinking we’d meet them at the Parade. Ali and I didn’t realize how cold it was. It was rather warm during the day and we didn’t think the change in weather would be so drastic. I have to remember that the buildings make it colder, windier. We stood at the corner of twelve and six waiting for the parade to begin. The crowd expanded to the point where it was uncomfortable to stand there and it was bitterly cold. Blair and Emily were unable to find us in the crowd, so we decided we would meet at this restaurant across the street that we thought was The French Roast. After a half hour of the parade, which wasn’t that exciting, nor could we really see it, Ali and I decided we were freezing and hungry. It was nearly impossible to push through the crowd, and they seemed rather angry with me and my lightening bolt, and they didn’t find it cute when I apologized for electracuting them.

Ali pushed her way through the door of the restaurant, but me and the lightening bolt were stuck in a large swarm of people. I managed to pull myself to the door by grabbing onto the door handle, and all of a sudden Ali’s hand pushed through the crowd and pulled me through. The restaurant however, turned out to be a small, dinky diner as opposed to The French Roast, so we told Emily and Blair that we would meet them back at the dorm.

On the way back, I stopped at an ATM at the Chase and found myself in between a guy dressed as Elvis and the Grim Reaper. I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. I found so much humor in it. It just made me realize how much I love this holiday and how much fun it is, but from the parade and the crowd that was there, I also realized that Halloween really isn’t for kids anymore. There are barely any trick-or-treaters out like there used to be. Halloween has just become a big party for adults. I find this sad. This has always been my favorite holiday, and part of the reason is because of the innocence of it all; kids dressing up and playing make believe. This may just be because I literally am still a twelve year old, I mean I painted the solar system on my pumpkin.

The rest of the night was spent watching Young Frankenstein in the Union Square Lounge and eating candy and drinking hot chocolate. I think we fell asleep by midnight. It was a good Halloween.

you are the template you choose

seamstress4theband — Wed, 31 Oct 2007 03:21:41 +0000

I honestly hate internet blogging. I did like Xanga when I had one, but that was only because it was middle school and I was self-absorbed. I thought my blogs were interesting, recounting my days with photographs and my angsty teen poetry; poems I once thought were good. The reason I hate blogging has nothing to do with people who think that their lives are so important and wish to relay the details of their days: what they ate for breakfast, how many calories they consumed, the fact that they washed the car; thinking that people who stumble upon their site actually care, when in reality, they’re probably laughing at the strange reality that “this girl has a boyfriend?!”

The fulcrum of my hatred for internet blogging, is attributed to the frustration of actually setting one up. It takes me hours. It might just be my overanalyzing things, a combination of my OCD and perfectionism, but I will sit in front of the computer and stare, waiting for inspiration to kick in so I can actually title my blog or write something in my about me section. More importantly however, is the matter of choosing the right template. A template that will exert the niceities of my personality through graphic design, color scheme and font style. You can tell a lot about a person by the template they choose.

In the back of my mind, while going through the list of possible templates for my site, I find myself subconsciously asking myself what this template says about me. Will it entice people to visit my blog, and if they do, what does it say about me that I chose this template? What will people think of me if I choose this template? Internet blogging communities have become realities. “Communities” that are real and vivid, that people actually live in.

Through the internet, through internet blogging, people know each other through the decorum of their sites. The template I choose will decide my internet identity. I don’t have time to get to know people, for them to absord my mannerisms in person, so everything they absorb is through my design choices. I can’t take the pressure sometimes. As we know, appearance shadows content, so as superficial as it may sound, what I write here doesn’t really matter if my site is aesthetically appealing.

I’m not sure if I made the right decision, but I can always change my template. If I change my template though, will it really change the identity I would have already established for myself? My fate is sealed, and hopefully it’s pleasant.