Angela's Ashes is, so far, the saddest thing ever. I'm never reading memoirs again...they are always so damn painful. Hopefully the further I get into this book the less I will want to kill myself.

Laura Hajj dedicates this song, "Pyretta Blaze", to me whenever she plays it on her radio show. I don't know if I am dramatic enough to live up to this song. Am I beautiful yet dangerous? Thermogenic luminous? Not so sure, but the song is badass.

In other news, here's a picture of one corner of my living room. I spend a lot of time in that blue chair.






And, for the record, there is one thing that has truly left a hole in my soul during this move. What's the one thing I miss most?





Deceptively serene photograph of the form of cat, I might add. I hope I can grow up and have a real digital camera.

Wasting away in love and longing,

Courtney

1. Go here.
2. Pass it on.
( my answers )

This is so ironic. "Tear in Your Hand" is by far my least favorite Tori song. Of all of them. ALL of them.

Which Tori Amos song are you? Tear in Your Hand Neil said hi, by the way.

Click Here to Take This Quiz Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests.

This afternoon the Dude and I will embark upon a brief road trip to Kansas City. This trip is so short, I'm not even packing a toothbrush. Why are we doing this? Because we're young, unpredictable, and most importantly, because it's summer, which we all know is the season to laugh at your toes, see God's face in a waterfall and lose your keys in your own pocket - all while smiling at the sheer, surreal bologna sandwich that is life, you know what I mean? I feel like you really get me, dude, for real, right?

Funny, I would have described my kissing style simply as "hawt".

Or maybe even more specifically, "irresistably secksy".

*makes out with own hand*

Part Expert Kisser

You're a kissing pro, but it's all about quality and not quantity You've perfected your kissing technique and can knock anyone's socks off And you're adaptable, giving each partner what they crave When it comes down to it, your kisses are truly unforgettable

Part Playful Kisser

Kissing is a huge game for you, a way to flirt and play You're the first one to suggest playing spin the bottle at a party Or you'll go for the wild kiss during a game of truth or dare And you're up for kissing any sexy stranger if the mood is right!

Ok guys, enough of thoughts and feelings and opinions. It's time for me to address something of importance.

hott++ vs. hawt

Are these synonyms? If not, what conotation does each carry? Is one more or less humorous than the other? Is it a matter of personal taste, reflection of vocal expression, or simply differing trends in internet speak? And, most importantly, how does it feel to be friends with me, being the embodiment of both?

Sometimes I really do feel that the goddamn plane has crashed into the mountain...to quote the Big Lebowski.

I'm scared. Please don't tell anyone; it would ruin my reputation.

excrucior.

I'm drinking french press coffee right now so that Jon Baker will like me.

When did my life begin to revolve around making socialists happy?

*sigh of defeat*

In no specific order, name 10 people you know:


1. Coleman
2. Carl
3. Kyla
4. Weeston
5. Arminda
6. Adam
7. Chris Steffe
8. Provance
9. Jon Baker
10. Iason

---

Who is 6 dating?: Isn't Adam dating Arminda? I've heard rumors, but he sure does hang out over there a lot...

Is 8 a boy or a girl?: A girl...to the fifth power.

Would 9 and 2 make a good couple?: I actually think that Jon and Carl would be truly happy and deeply in love if either liked dudes. They could sit around smoking cigarettes and drinking snobby coffee talking about socialism and how Thoreau makes them cream their pants. That night, they would both get really drunk and scream at top volume about how much they loved each and hugging before they passed out in each others arms in some stranger's front yard.

What about 1 and 3?: That would make the BEST SITCOM EVER.

What grade is 4 in?: I don't know...level 55?

When was the last time you talked to 7?: My last night in Kirksville in his living room with his gune and pals drinking sweet sweet Schafly.

What's 10's favorite type of music?: Oh my god probably ska. Or maybe punk. Or maybe ska punk.

Does 5 have siblings?: Not exactly.

Would you ever date 3?: Would I? WOULD I? Why the hell haven't I? Probably because I am more comfortable with Kyla as a sovereign ruler. Come on, you don't think power is sexy?

Is 8 single?: Now that's a loaded question.

What's 1's last name?: Coleman. Ha ha that's cute.

What's 3's middle name?: *gulp* Caerulea? Yes, that's definitely it.

When is 7’s birthday?: Sometime under the sign of Gemini.

What's 9's fantasy?: For coffee to be personified as a woman who likes philosophy, black metal, Ani DiFranco, and Chuck Palahniuk, and then to spend the rest of his days with her, away from his parents.

Would 2 and 10 be a good couple?: I can answer this in one word: no.

Random fact about 5: If challenged, she will attempt to huff a Yankee Christmas Wreath Candle until passing out.

And number 6?: My friendship with Adam has rearranged a lot of lives. And I think he likes Celine Dion. *snicker*

Have you ever had a crush on 3?: Does pining for someone openly count as a crush?

Where does 4 live?: On Arminda's couch, I think.

What's 5's favorite color?: I believe it is red.

Are 2 and 4 best friends?: No, but their moving karaoke duets hint of roving hands and hushed whispers deep in the night.

Does 7 like 10?: Yeah, of course. All boys who went to St. Louis Jesuit high schools like each other because they have superiority complexes.

How did you meet 4?: At Arminda's sometime last semester. He has been tormenting me about making pie ever since.

Does 8 have any pets?: A maiden she calls GirlKelly.

Is 6 older than you?: Yeah. Adam is totally elderly.

Does 3 have any significance in your life?: Yes. I obey her.

Have you ever given 2 a hug?: A lot of them...but they are always stabbing attempts that I thwart.

Is 1 the sexiest person alive?: In some parts of the world.

Can any of you tell me anything about a band called Rise Against? I saw the video for "Swing Life Away", I think, on MTV a few minutes ago and I am going to be really sad when the song goes out of my head. Is the rest of their music good?

Have I ever explained to you guys my obsession with duck asses?

This isn't just ducks...in fact, I'm even more drawn to goose ass. Don't worry, it isn't a sexual thing, but all those fluffy waterfowl assfeathers just look so comforting and I yearn to touch them. I'm a big fan of down bedding, needless to say.

Oh, the point!

I just noticed that the back of my hair now looks like a duck's ass. I think it's groovy.

In other news, Jon Baker and I went to a coffee shop which shall remain nameless, filled ourselves with frappe, and walked from one end to the other of an utterly pointless sidewalk between two grass fields that led nowhere in both directions, fearing constantly that rapists would emerge from the woods and violate our cornholes.

In yet other news, Jeff Candela is not sober at all. Observe:

thelazygryphon: courtney, will you please tell your bearded friend to stop licking my dog? neither of us, it appears, appreciates it

And no, context would not make this any clearer. Jeffanese is a very difficult language to translate.

I'm back at my family's plantation.

I'm feeling pretty good today. I think it takes ten hours of sleep and half a pot of coffee to raise my energy level to that of a normal person.

I can't listen to Lou Reed all of the time, but when I am in the mood...damn. The lyrics to the song "Heroin" combined with the way Lou Reed sounds is really sort of...overwhelming. Also "Perfect Day", which I hear is the perfect overdose song from people who have seen Trainspotting (I refuse).

I went to a party at Hope and Jeremy's new house last night. I had a really really good time and saw people I had not seen in years, as well as hung out with some new people and ate a lot of barbecue. And drank a lot of beer.

So, call me what you will, but I have always loved the movie Singin' in the Rain with the superstallion himself, Gene Kelly. Not to mention the hilarious Donald O'Connor. Man, what a joy nugget of a film. My mom found out that they are doing the play at Starlight Theatre, and we're going to go tomorrow night. I should be dancing with an umbrella for weeks.

Man...I've got the house to myself...I should do laundry. For the first time in about a month.

This post blows. I guess that's what happens when you write down random thoughts at ten minute intervals while surfing the internet. I'm sorry for wasting cyberspace with this crap.

My mother and aunt are here helping me clean and pack and whatnot. It's nice to have them around while I do this crap, not only because they are highly driven cleaning robots, but because I think I need the company. I have always hated moving. The first time I really moved was from Mississippi at age 13 a couple of months after my dad died. My parents brought me home from the hospital to that house and I always hated the big bitch of a house in Independence, and my mother was forcing me to live there. I was so angry and hurt that I had to leave everything that meant so much to my angsty little soul, I had to leave my best friend Carole, my first boyfriend Dan (born April 6, by the way), abandon my high school Latin career, and move to the then meth capital of America and live with my grandparents. I realize that everything turned out ok, my mom was doing what was best and if I had not moved I would not be where I am today, but leaving that house really did shred me emotionally - I swore that that house in Independence would never be my home and indeed, I have never really been attached to it. Still, college=moving, and every time I move it feels like part of me dies. Some of you may know the constant turmoil in my heart over finding *home*. I'm not a homebody and I like to get out and see stuff, but the comfort and safety of coming home, wherever that may be, is precious to me. My mom had some cheesy little cross stitch thing on the wall in Mississippi that said "to know how sweet your home can be, just go away - but keep the key". When it comes to the part of moving where you turn in your key, I have to choke back sobs every time. I still have the key to that house in Mississippi.

So...yeah...moving with my loved ones today is much easier than packing and cleaning yesterday, which drove me out of the house for part of the day and left me in the depths of despair until Provance came over and we had one last night of boner jokes and the Family Guy in the old place.

I was on my knees scrubbing the bathroom floor like a good Greek wife grumbling about the millions of hair dye stains when I realized what a collage this place has become - the burn on the kitchen floor, the splattering of whatever alcohol on the ceiling, the blood smear on the post out front (that will NOT COME OFF), the Parliament butts still on the neighbor's side of the porch (I miss you) - no one can ever say that we did not live in this place. How frightening to think that in two months this place will be overrun with frat boys. At any rate...I think that this house will miss us when we leave.

Hold me.

There's really no dejection quite like driving to the only McDonald's location you ever loved, only to find that it has been razed.

So I went to Bellacino's instead. Oh, the luck! Hitzel was working. This means that I purchased 1/2 grinder but was presented with a whole - and more delicious than I could handle. In other good Hitzel news, it seems there is a chance he might be able to be my pizza topping master one more time before I leave Kirksville. I have always enjoyed his pizzas immensely.

I ran into J.D. outside of McClain hall today...more like he almost ran over me by means of a bike. We combined my knowledge of Classical languages and literature and his knowledge of advanced Physics and German, and we were able to reach an educated conclusion:

It is hot as a bitch today, which is only a few degrees cooler than hotter than a motherfucker.

I should have been cleaning the house today but I have been spending time screwing around Kirksville and using my computer.

I realized today that I will have at least one friend when I move to Wisconsin. My bear, Lovie, whom I received for my second birthday, which means that she recently turned 20. My bear can buy cigarettes. Next year I am taking her out to get trashed. At any rate, when we aren't weeping over moving, we've had fun catching up. I've been telling her about Springfield. The glassy stare I receive in return leads me to believe that she has developed a drug problem. It's ok, she's been through a lot (trust me, I've been there the whole time). Here's a photograph:

I have not listened to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs in a long time...so good...so good...

I'm gonna go get myself a happy meal.


 

When did Independence, Missouri become a vortex of mental illness?

I'd like to thank Wild Turkey for a beautiful evening with old friends. Not.

I'm going to be in Kirksville tomorrow. Because Independence is clearly not worth my time. Probably the only town in the country that could get Harry Truman hooked on meth.

I'm disgusted.

Two coffee pots diverged on a kitchen counter and I took the one more, uh, drunken by...so to speak. And that has made all the difference. I might make it to the dentist's office without driving off the road.

I might go to the *maul* today. I have not been to Hot Topic in a while and I need a good dose of disgust. Or maybe the bookstore. Or maybe I will get smart and not go to these money sucking pits at all.

Or maybe I will come home and take another nap. Sheesh.

So many options... so few of them free.

Mmmmm....free....

Free.

My favorite word.

Happy Tuesday, y'all.

It's been sung many times before, stated in my journal many times before, and will probably be stated many more times:

Home...home again...I like to be here when I can.

Gawd, my summer has been a burnt-out college kid's wet dream. I don't deserve it, but I've always had luck with asking and receiving. Hell, I've always had luck. Loads of it. Luck in family, luck in friends, luck in opportunity.

Or maybe it's love. Perhaps the Beatles were right...maybe love really is all you need.

Could it also be that I have good taste in people? I'd like to think so, when I think about the variety of those dear to my heart. I like how they are scattered across the country as well, from my pals in the Southern Motherlands (holla!), to Alana Rolfe playing her guitar and making pizza for a living in Colorado, to Laura Hajj and the hot Jewish MIT guys in Boston, to my crazy collection of Truman friends, the Classics Mafia (salvete!), my wildly intelligent high school friends that I see biannually at QuikTrip or Denny's, Kyla the Pan in Canananada/Kylonia, and not to forget the ruffians in Springfield who keep me in a continuous state of seduction - including my best friend, Arminda Apgar. Who have I forgotten? Oh right...the whole being IN love thing. I dig that, too. And not just a little.

As well as realizing that I am lucky, full of love, and lucky in that love...

I've realized that some experiences remind you that real life is even better than the movies. We all know that life is full of peaks and valleys, but the really high peaks make the valleys seem surprisingly shallow.

It's also good to hit reset every once in a while as it puts thing in perspective, clears the worry (which tends to rust the intellect), and allows you to renew your appreciation for those you love.

I'm going to sleep well tonight.