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July 7th, 2009
01:13 am
Davis and I are applying for an apartment tomorrow. With my horrible credit. Wish us luck.
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July 5th, 2009
10:41 am
I love when carolina and I wash our feet together. Posted via LiveJournal.app.
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July 4th, 2009
10:16 pm
I had the most clever thing to say a minute ago... (this isn't it) Fireworks with 3D glasses: almost worth the creepy propaganda. Posted via LiveJournal.app.
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05:40 pm
Editing headache.
Other causes of headache.
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July 2nd, 2009
02:02 pm
I just discovered the most amazing important thing and I am going to take Marcie's sarcastic advice and blog about it:
putting salt on a muffin provides all the tasty effects of butter without the grease. Salt your muffins!
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June 28th, 2009
11:39 am - no solace anywhere, not a drop of it to drink
I have felt like I want to cry since I woke up this morning. Maybe it's a headache. Maybe it's aimlessness. Or failure. Or inadequacy. Or hopelessness. Conviction that everything will be fucked up in the end. Confidence in my own ability to make that happen.
First of all, why can't I keep my fucking mouth shut?
And then there's the stress.
I hate house hunting.
I think I am upset.
needle in the haaaaaaay
Too bad I am not drinking. I would take a bottle of scotch to the cemetery right now. Wow, is cemetery really three e's? I never noticed. I am going to take a sedative and not bang my head against the wall.
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June 26th, 2009
09:57 am
Staring stony-toed at every Lucrece
His nightly abluted feet
By daybreak ensure an ave from the grass rapiers
sprung unsheathed from his step
and whetted by the last remnants of
last night's dew rolling off the whispered
ends of scripture.
A crying-out voice in mildness,
For Him, Philomela's writhing
scripted body sets about intoxicating the natives
of the walk-with-me garden, Mr. McGregor's,
flambéed mby the fantasy that
she wants it.
Four and twenty blackbirds spoke
Like the very first bird
When your Father's first morning broke
And saw him pie-eyed and a fine dish for Medea's persecutors
or any number of ignoble Romans,
when He mistook a
no-good-can-come-of-it enclosed (walled in by the firmament) space for some Gaul
and hauled ass through the furrows evading the farmer's hoe until He was no more.
I assure you
inasmuch as deconstruction guarantees me any degree of agency
that though no one else may have
shuffled through the reams of your invasive vocal folds when He walked with you
I, on earth and eyes hardly ever averted,
heard you scream.
When the teamsters and rapists and would-be dreamers got together, as your betters, to condemn
some other null set of teamsters and rapists and would-be dreamers whose many coordinates
happened to fall upon your axis in a
capsizing, fracturing, cum-bitter way
(but suffocating like the unseemly sweetness of muscadine)
tripped you up in your autodidactic preparatory course in
Men Can Be Trusted
and bent you over unceremoniously, and grunting,
beside a toilet seat,
I did, I heard you scream.
The footprints of Jesus would
absolutely cream
(and let's thank God's holy angels, the knitting ministry friendship circle, and maybe Salome that you yourself didn't)
at the chance to win some front row tickets to the next event in a series of stake-placing treks into Her Arctic Once-was-a Heart. The footprints of Jesus are
willing to part with a few of us
if it gives hard fast hierophantic thrust toward some holier justice.
But I - now the screamer - don't give a fuck about this.
I walk with the fisted girls, cuffed by
the impenetrability of the inner wasteland
and taunted rapturously by the chaste.
I did not turn around to see the gun
At ready and at my head
what? For fear of finding myself stunned, a salt pillar of apostasy and flagging faith?
But...yet...my insides are sodiumizing.
All my malignant cells are unsated and wait
to be realigned into a cancerous decorum by the defining male gaze
and kill me,
impenitent and replaced
by a dainty dish to be tasted and spat onto the hands as
new lubricant for this or that other classical rape
I cannot relate.
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June 21st, 2009
02:25 am
Can't set down the insanity without picking it back up. And impressionable. And unreasonable. And confused.
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June 17th, 2009
07:55 am - Home
so I have been mostly out of the loop and dpn't know who has been told what but I was robbed and brutally raped at gunpoint by four men in Africa and now am home. I am fine. Thanks for all the well wishes and flowers and everything. the FBI and US consulate and Nigerian government and police are all on the case . I will write more later
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June 10th, 2009
June 9th, 2009
07:49 pm
I JUST got out of a meeting.
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June 8th, 2009
08:22 pm - some panning of academics from a fledgling academic
I was freaking out but now I feel better. It's raining as hard here right now as it does during hurricanes in NC, no kidding. It's all awesomeness. Rain washes away all anxiety.
And allows me to write:
Deep in the heart of
This isn't really Africa
We, the cocked zombies of academe,
all write mini-biographies listing our accomplishments,
And cataloguing our eligibility to rub pebble-smoooth shoulders (eroded from vigorous, steady streams of rubbing)
With each other
The (fashioned as) self-made muttering busts
Thrusting ourselves headshot first into not just a discussion
But the very-italicized gravitas of discourse,
Forged by our forbears (in front of their mirrors) before us
All the while pretending to admire each other's medals (in expectation of having our own medals admired).
Mr. Dr. Ambassador, sir, have you seen my feathers? I stayed up late last night printing them in color, collating and stapling them, and then demonstrating how even so they were perfectly plucked (no blood feathers for us) directly from the very representative core of my plumage and converted to PowerPoint for your convenience. I spent seven long years under the supervision of critical committees, seven long years fearing my superiors as I now wish to be feared, and now I am ready
to trade in my gold stars for a piece of tomorrow!
A ready-made stake, slated and special, to be slurped through my rolled-up
College diploma and swallowed into the
soul of my being, my essence's essence,
the unmovable movement-maker that stepped me in the direction of success.
And as long as we're on the subject of the
preemptors of accidental qualities,
You can expect a confession,
although it's only here in those thin (after eight) moments
of recollection of there being some What I was seeking that
isn't actually encompassed by or present on this or that
stack of paper,
that I am not my vitae (or at least its most critical pages),
and I remember that the GPA stamped on my transcript
isn't fire-branded there such that it could sink into my
I am someone, am I not?
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June 7th, 2009
12:44 am
Can't sleep. Too itchy from mosquito bites. Stuck on a chess problem. Hungry.
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June 6th, 2009
09:55 am - loophole in my dreamin'
Last night, I drank wine and played chess with a young man named Tony who is getting his second master's. I loaned him a chess book to read. Whilst playing, I complained about how I'd gone to the market earlier and nothing fit me and I want to lose 20 pounds. So he said he will help me out with that. After chess, I remember chatting with Jamie, but I only remember some of what was said (kick some chess ass today, young man! but friendly-like, for Gary). It's absolutely wonderful that it has been so easy to stay connected with everyone at home. It does a great job of quashing any potential for home sickness.
At 7 this morning, Tony fetched me and we went running. After running, we went to the gym. There were several other kids in the gym, and they all go every morning, so I think I'm going to make friends pretty quickly. Tony wouldn't let me leave until I did situps. He was trying to get me to skip rope, too, but I said I couldn't handle any more today. I am INCREDIBLY out of shape. I was exhausted after very little exercise. But we are going to do it again tomorrow morning. And I won't drink 2 bottles of wine the night before.
Later this afternoon we will play some more chess.
After exercising, I went back to sleep for two hours. Now that I'm up, I don't know where Pat's disappeared to. I guess she went to town without me. It's okay. It's Saturday, and the ideal day for me to start catching up on my schoolwork.
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June 5th, 2009
04:47 pm
Today I attended a 2009 World Environment Day conference where Dr. Inyang was the keynote speaker. Tonight at 7pm and 9pm I will be on Nigerian television.
After the conference, we went to lunch at a Nigerian restaurant, where I had "vegetable soup" (in Nigeria, "soup" means something more like dip) with goat meat in it and with pounded yam. I managed to eat the goat meat, but as much as I tried to like the soup and the yam, I couldn't, so I didn't eat very much. I kept stealing plantains off of Pat's plate instead.
Then Amaka took me to her old office, where I met a sweet girl named Nsima who took pictures of me, which Amaka asked her to do to get the picture-taking out of my system so that I'd quit annoying her by snapping shots of everything.
Amaka guarantees me a personal encounter with God before I leave, after which I will be converted (I won't be. but Amaka is awesome anyway). She took me to the open air market, where I tried on a million dresses but was too fat for all but one. I then decided to go on a diet. So I bought four bottles of wine.
Now I'm going to dinner, after which I'm meeting up with some boys (grad students) that the math prof found for me to play chess with.
And then wine and swimming. Friday night partay.
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