This Makes Sense.

So suddenly my guilty pleasure crush on the American Idol contestant has come into the light a little bit. After browsing youtube I found that he's been in a couple of bands prior to making it on the show.

It's alright. He's still a guilty pleasure.

Everyday I Come Home Expecting My Room to Look Like This.

and I will instantly turn to this.

I dream of houses and rooms with huge windows where I can sit and drink my morning coffee in, rooms with interesting closets that lead to more rooms, gigantic mansions with high ceilings and surreal wallpaper and magical twilit bathrooms with warm soapy waterfalls filling up the tub.

And then I wake up. I wake with a runny nose and a headache, the mold has gotten to me in the night. It's spread up my nose and into my brain, turning me into a swamp troll who's very grumpy and likes her privacy.

I tried putting baking powder on the wet spots of the carpet, the mold just ate them up.

Get me out of here.

This show.

My dad watches American Idol, he kind of loves it, which is a little unexpected. Last season I caught my father watching, made me want to puke all the sentiment that ever existed out my eyeballs. BUT. I've been spending a lot of time at my father's lately (him living in town+having awesome cable tv and my awesome little dog+my room turning into a swamp from all the leaks and mold=my dad's house being the place to be) and he's been watching this season. Last week he put it on, and I must say, I didn't want to throw up nearly as often. In fact, some of these people were kinda.. actually interesting? One guy did a Nirvana song, and it was a little strange, but the fact that he just let it all out there, no restrictions, I thought was pretty cool. Then I heard this other guy sing. He seemed like any other contestant, maybe with more blindingly white teeth than most, but then he started to sing. I mean it made me kinda feel warm inside, that is pretty much a first for this show. I try to gain as little amount of joy as possible from this show. Another first: this morning I found myself looking up the other songs he did, the ones from this season that I've missed. And I found that I was completely okay with whatever song he covered. Even the Beatles, which I am not normally okay with unless it's Harry Nilsson (I refused to even watch a trailer for Across the Universe, and have seen one scene from Sergeant Pepper and the annoyance boiling in my brain veins.) I'm okay with this one though. I kind of really like it.

He sounds a lot like Rod Stewart, yet he doesn't sound like he's ripping Rod off. He's got a completely different vibe. Here he is doing Maggie May:

Alright, when he sings, my heart kinda melts. And here's good ol' Rod doing it in '71:

It's definitely an influence but it's not very distracting for me. He's working with something good.

In some weird way, he reminds me of a less pronounced version this singer in a band I was really into in high school:

They both have that roughness, yet guided by sweetness and genuinity.

Also, I think American Idol finally quit taking themselves so seriously, and are just going with the bizarreness of a televised singing competition, as it should be.

Mae West

I've been all over her music lately. I only have about 20 records to choose from in my house at the moment, but it is nice to put her on and do the dishes, make some breakfast, just about anything.

Luna Lovegood Costume.

So, I love dressing up. And I love Harry Potter. There's a lot of fun to be had  in putting the two together. 

July is when the film finale comes out, so this is my last chance to go all out. At the release of the 6th book, I made Luna Lovegood raddish earrings and a cork necklace to wear. For DH pt.1 I dressed as Narcissa Malfoy:

Why wouldn't Sirius and Narcissa duel? My friend went as Cissy's Sis, Bellatrix Lestrange. I have a picture of us, just don't know where it went.

Anyway, this time around, for the final shebang, I'm picking Luna Lovegood once more. I already have the jewelry, and I'm thinking of buy these specrespecs off the interweb:

After that I just need a weird partly knit outfit with blues and purples, a light up wand (since those are cooler than the wands I've carved in the past) and some Quibblers. Making the Quibblers is proving much harder than I initially intended, so good thing I started early. They are very time consuming.

CW

Writing fiction is something I'm trying to start doing, at least for this class. My whole life up to here I've written poetry, something I haven't done in a while nonetheless, but fiction is foreign. My first attempt went sour, people didn't like "Sanity" as a character name, someone I dreamt up and upon waking sort of fell in love with, but I guess dreams don't translate well into real life. Or I don't know how to go about it properly yet. So now I'm writing a collage of my experiences, or some version of them. My biggest problem is trying to write too much. The more I write, it seems, the more I have to write. It's constantly a never ending story, which I don't mind, but that doesn't work well with deadlines. I need freshness, a new life. I've been feeling really restricted through my writing lately. I went back and read poems from high school and them seem so careless, so free, so flowing. The imagery is electric, pulsing through words like a life of it's own.


My beautiful is the hurt that keeps me warm,
The thistles in my heart like the daisies
that used to sway in my head. Love is
me twisting but that choking pain is
the heartbeat that will keep me alive

Where have I gone?
I used to see life in death, make joy from hurt. Even in my darkest years I could arrange flowers on a page from bloody feelings. Now, I feel...numb. Like I've been running away from myself for almost 3 years. Now when I look inside, I don't know who I am. I just see a ghost of what I used to be and everything else is empty, bored, frightened, lazy. I can't stand to think how I'll become if I keep this up. I need to escape, become someone knew, look into my roots and find what really makes me tick again. I need to clean my room.

spit

I can imagine the apocalypse. I've been dreaming about it for years, and I know I'm not the only one. There's always a wind, sometimes ripping up the grass, sometimes separating people, sometimes separating houses. Sometimes there is a post-world. Once with little color and many sketchy people. Everyday seems like we're diving deeper into the dungheap. A ten year old got shot in front of safeway, for no reason at all. People aren't just mugging for drugs, people are mugging to feed their fucking families, even buy christmas presents. It seems like money is becoming more and more scarce, or perhaps just circulating through the system faster. Where does it all go? It's hard to keep track of life. I feel like I did when I didn't have a home. I feel like the roof over my head is the last thing holding me together. I can't afford good food, I can't afford nice clothes, but I can afford a roof. It may not keep me warm all the time but at least it keeps me dry.