Draw the Latch

yeah yeah yeah, whatever, it's hilarious

2009-12-26T01:13:39Z

On the twelfth day of Christmas, glumby sent to me...

Twelve tom waits drumming

Eleven birdy noises piping

Ten tom robbins a-leaping

Nine owls dancing

Eight pies a-milking

Seven namesakes a-swimming

Six daisies a-spitting

Five stri-i-i-inged lights

Four epic skies

Three greasy spoons

Two twin peaks

...and a mysticism in a log lady.

all i wanna do is ride bikes with you and stay up late and maybe spoon

2009-11-07T06:42:33Z

Sigh sigh pumpkin pie, y'all.

theme song time

2009-10-15T01:57:59Z

Green Shirt--Elvis Costello & The Attractions
The Love You Save--The Jackson 5
(can't you figure out what my problem is??)

and of course:
Ain't Misbehavin'--Fats Waller

oh I believe in yesterdayy

2009-09-25T15:13:24Z

Yesterday, I skipped all of my classes to sleep in, worked my first shift at the co-op, got a haircut, went to a sex shop with Kai and Stefano, cooked up veggies with Stefan and Ann whilst singing Joan Armatrading. What a step up from the consumptive day before. Purchase cough, I'll beat you yet.

glumby @ 2009-09-17T12:38:00

2009-09-17T16:39:08Z

do you realize how awesome it is for me that all the boys in my hall are hot for Bossa Nova?

Writer's Block: On the List

2009-08-31T01:21:26Z

What is on your personal list of the Seven Wonders of the Modern World?

View 527 Answers

I totally read that as Stevie Wonders of the Modern World and got really excited and then really perplexed. And now I'm disappointed that it doesn't say that.

but I like American Music BEST

2009-08-19T20:06:16Z

It's such sweaty weather, I feel like salt crystals are forming on my skin, like I'm some kind of great English Channel swimmer. I've been eating so many grapefruit, and my mouth tastes a little bit like too many cups of coffee. The immediate remedy that springs to mind is a spoonful of jam and a glass of ice water.

Things are kinda totally perfect with Luke right now. Emotions make everything too muddled. We went to the High Falls yesterday, sat under the rushing water, billy-goated over the rocks. Not wanting to be a total pussy, I tried to match his pace, and so now my feet are punctured and battered and my knees are purple. But he told me over and over that I was beautiful, took me to his home to feed me, and so I ended up in his bed. I feel full-up and glowing. He's kinda totally perfect.

And yet it's the reassuring casual perfection, like all of last summer bottled into a week. And like last summer, there's a refreshing detachment, minus my stupid strict parameters. It just is is is, and I'm remembering why that was so awesome in the first place.

There's a jar of blueberry preserves sitting chilled in the fridge waiting for me. I've got some sewing, and also probably some other responsibilities to deal with before school starts next week. I'm such an unprepared fool.

I could never touch you, I think it would be wrong, I've got your letter, you've got my song

2009-08-14T21:09:45Z

I am so good. I am lying with my dirty feet and yellow sundress on the mattress of the attic room that is only mine for a little while longer. I am alternately sipping pale ale, cold ginger tea, and water. The fan is on its highest setting. My hair is still wet with creekwater.

I feel like I'm secretly courting my best friend's boyfriend. But it's so simple and pure and sweet, I feel like a pet kitten. I'm mildly muddled but ultimately blissful.

Second Sight | W.S. Merwin

Turning the corner I
Realize that I have read this before.
It is summer. The sun
Sits on the fire-escape while its children
Tear their voices into little shreds.
I wish I could remember how it ended.

This is the passage where the mirrors
Are embarking at the ends of the streets.
The drawn shades are waving
From empty rooms, and the old days
Are fanning themselves here and there on the steps.
The fact is, I have come back
Again and again, as a wish on a post-card, only
This time the jewels are turning
In the faces, and it seems I should know
The motive for the laundry, and the name
Of the man with the teeth, at intervals saying
You want to buy your time.

I feel this is a bit that I know how it goes;
I should be able to call
Most of the windows
By their christian names, they have whole
Chapters to themselves
Before the pigeons give up, and the brightest
Are refections of darkness. But no,
They've got it wrong, they've got it wrong,
Like anywhere else.

It's the old story,
Every morning something different is real.
This place is no more than the nephew of itself,
With these cats, this traffic, these
Departures
To which I have kept returning,
Having tasted the apple of my eye,
Saying perennially
Here it is, the one and only,
The beginning and the end.
This time the dials have come with the hands and
Suddenly I was never here before.
Oh dust, oh dust, progress
Is being made.

This poem is wholly everything I am and everything I feel these days.Theeeeese dayyyyys, these days I sit on corner stones and count the time in quarter tones to ten. And ride on the back of a tandem bike and listen to mix cds from middle school and swim under the trestle. Under there. Under where? Underwear.

no one's quite as bloomed as they'd like to be

2009-08-11T22:27:38Z

I made this for Louie. I bought Ali a shirt from the thrift store that says "77: seventies funk" in those dorky fuzzy iron-on letters.

saying bye-bye to Rosendale?

boop boop badoop.

my supperdish, my succotash wish

2009-07-18T04:58:53Z

This is for me. What should I do? Think I should respond?

he prodded the pensieve with his wang

2009-07-14T19:13:39Z

Dark Night Of The Soul (ft. David Lynch)— Danger Mouse/Sparklehorse.... oh my lord, don't that bass line sound familiar? It sends me into chills of ecstasy. That's no hyperbole.

I post this song because it seems fitting for the day of the premiere of Half Blood Prince. Thank the lord for Ms. Ali Gruber, my fellow fangirl of not only Twin Peaks but also Harry Potter. In keeping with tradition, we've both made special shirts for the occasion:

fuck me, I'm such a nurd.

my wife took down and died upon the kitchen floor

2009-06-30T21:14:29Z

Eve: "Well, I guess the only thing I really need is a harmonica."

Next week is the DJ Ali Gruber Michael Jackson Memorial Dance Party, the week after is Harry Potter, Broad's Arm Wrestling League championship and Street Fest. And Gemma's back in town. So much awesomeness. My life isn't boring, I guess?

and the wanting comes in waves

2009-06-24T04:09:32Z

Morgan was a slice of peach pie served with an extra scoop of cinnamon ice cream. New York has been weeping all over me since we parted, today being the first respite of blue in awhile. Rosendale is cool gusts of hot wet floral air. The rail trail is even more chocolate-pudding-licious now, and I was to be caked with it today but for a broken bike chain. But of course I made cardboard fairyhouses instead because, duh, that's what I do. Seriously though, Morgan, my post-hostess etiquette is atrocious. I mean to call you and tell you that Louie is in love with you but I just did so I'll have to think of knew things to tell you but you are probably tired of my dork-voice for the time being anyway.

Also: shoot, guys... I guess I'm going to college?

glumby @ 2009-05-27T13:10:00

2009-05-27T17:10:36Z

red cadillac and a black mustache

2009-05-21T21:45:59Z

the new glasses, new hair, marlene on the wall, and that mark you can barely see that shall henceforth be known as the tea stain.

i watch the ripples change in size but never leave the stream of warm impermanence

2009-05-21T03:10:14Z

Hello, old friend. It's been just a bit. But as for a brief update: plans are manifesting as concretely as my wobbly immature capriciousness will allow; I butchered my hair in a frenzy of self-consciousness—I think I will dye it copper; all I want to do is watch Pete & Pete; tonight I walked home from a bellyful of root beer float listening to Changes, and damn, that's my life.

move on up! toward your destination, though you may find, from time to time, complication

2009-04-23T03:13:09Z

i gotta try.

but what am i even doing?

glumby @ 2009-04-18T03:33:00

2009-04-18T07:40:16Z

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Flying Billy Fucking Preston= The Ultimate Deus Ex Machina?

Every time I walk into the going out of business sale at Valley Video, I pick up this movie with full intention of buying it, but I never do. It's incredibly embarrassing, but ohmygodilovethismovie.

enter easter and she's dressed in yellow yolk

2009-04-12T16:07:46Z

easter theater—xtc
english tea—paul mccartney
ice cold lemonade—death by chocolate
cascade kisses—françois virot
sweet thing—van morrison

I love you.

if children don't grow up, our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up

2009-04-08T21:41:33Z

Yesterday I was so miserable for no reason that I shut myself in Donna's bathroom and cried, but she finally noticed and was really sweet and made me coffee which is what I really needed. But today was sososososo much better. I went over to Aja and Eve's at 9 this morning with a bag of rhinestones and glitter and brickabrack and lil' girlfriend and I made a batch of fantastic easter eggs. Such a comfortable atmosphere of frantic crafting warms me to the core. We also hunted for fairies in the lightly flaking snow and ate macaroni and cheese while watching Jackie tap dance and had a mermaid drawing contest.

Afterwards I had avocado toast and two cups of coffee and a slice of Billie Holiday chocolate birthday cake at The Market. It tasted exactly the way she sings, which I know for a fact since Mike put on a Lady Day song just after I ordered. "I feel like I'm experiencing synesthesia!" I called from across the room. "That's fantastic! What's synesthesia?" was his reply. I ordered more coffee as an excuse to stick around and peered over my book as he tried to put together a mix of songs he thought I'd enjoy. I love love love boys who flirt with music. Especially when they do it well. I gave him one of the two eggs I kept: purple with an image of Elvis crowned with gold glitter and surrounded by puffy clouds. Jesus Elvis.

edit-- Knowing how zany Dan McCormack is (blonde curly wigs, baby doll limbs peeking out of his pockets, asking the models routinely to scream as loud as possible...) I brought a box of sparklers as a prop for long exposures. The class went gaga- until we set off the fire alarm and I had to wait outside in my robe for the fire department to come. hafgsajdhfdshfgsf.

every night is just the same, you leave me lonely

2009-03-30T04:14:34Z

I feel like I've completely lost the ability to function socially over the course of the weekend. I went out with Jesse and Erin to hear Ali spin at The Bunker, but I spent the entire evening pilfering kettle corn in the corner and watching beautiful boys to whom I have nothing to say. Because I've forgotten how to talk to boys. Everyone went to a party afterwards, and I half-heartedly told them to knock on my door on the way over. But they did not. Because they knew I didn't want to go. Or they didn't want to go with me. Either way, everyone was probably better off. I played Katamari Damacy, got colder and colder and tea did not help.

(I had a dream last night where I was secretly in love with a boy who built gorgeously intricate and layered dioramas. He was incredibly beautiful and brilliant, though I never saw his face. I immersed myself in the microcosms he created, windows looking off onto painted beach landscapes, too real to imagine, tiny doors opened to stairways and more and more rooms; they fit in my hands, and yet I was able to walk through them like a museum. I tried to curb my desire for him, but in a deliciously electric moment, one that seems so simple and oh god why have we not thought to do this before, we kissed. In my childhood bedroom. But his mouth, initially warm and wet, turned dry and insubstantial as I woke up, realizing I was kissing thin air.)

(Did I mention that I cut off all of my hair? Because I did.)

(Gemma-- I feel like a horrible friend. I tried calling you on your birthday, but I don't think I have your number and the one I called does not work. Also, I have not given you my address, because I intended to give it to you in the form of a return address on a beautiful big package. But I am a flake, and the package is not done. Please call me when you can so that I may bask in your voice. I am yours, ever and forever.)

thank you falletin me be mice elf agin

2009-03-09T04:31:50Z

I'm sorry we were both so tired and lost and aching full of holes that could not be filled with pastries, and that I wrapped you in flannel when you should have been in bed (though the evening turned out enjoyable after all.) But breathing in time to Old Friends, rasping Tom Waits with our real whiskey voices, smelling sunshine and bergamot oil on our hair and skin: I am happy to have spent my weekend thusly with you.

I need to stop being a papoosed little baby. I need somebody to kiss. Fuck it, I am so serious.

creampuff casper milquetoast

2009-02-25T20:25:07Z

In an effort to promote the spirit of Spring, I've been pulling out my summer dresses and drinking my tea iced. Refusing to wear a coat out regardless of the actual temperature, because there is sun! I'm going to die of exposure. I don't care.

Monday night, after I crawled home from Ali and Louie's and a strenuous day of thrift store conquest, Sonya contacted me to tell me she's in town, and then drove all the way from Saugerties at midnight so that we could sit on my dirty floor—positively lousy with thread and tiny paper stars—and catch up. (That was a long sentence. I have no regard for grammar.)

I didn't get any sleep, but I did get some two-dollar breakfast the next morning, mmmm. I wish I could do more for Sonya, but all I can do is offer a bit of cheer... and really, how can you be unhappy when you have sunny-side eggs and sunny-side weather, Jackson Five and adorable puppy boys serving you coffee? I know I know I know it's only shallow comfort, but it's all I have to make me happy, and so oh, how I cling to it.

Speaking of, I just pulled out my little lemonade dress, and it's heady with the smell of sweet olive oil tortas and honey. I wish it was June, and Gemma and I were sitting in a patch of clovers, eating drunken goat cheese, drinking lavender jasmine iced tea and reading E.M. Forster out loud to each other. If I close my eyes and inhale, I'm right there.

poppin' my thumbs, diggin' the drums

2009-02-09T04:03:10Z

"Blossom Dearie's voice, critic Whitney Balliett once wrote, would scarcely reach the second story of a doll house. But that has never stopped her from swinging like mad."

now...

2009-02-08T22:29:02Z

The Morning Dumb-- Yoko Kikuchi

Cherbourg (KEXP Session)-- Beirut

Desafinado-- Antonio Carlos Jobim

Love Is Overtaking Me-- Arthur Russell

If You're Ready (Come Go With Me)-- The Staple Singers

If you understand the flow of this mix, you understand me.