tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34725892011-09-04T22:47:00.594-05:00Let's pretend you're interested.Jamienoreply@blogger.comBlogger6591100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1129146351397756642005-10-12T14:23:00.000-05:002005-10-12T14:45:51.433-05:00

THE FOOF HAS ARRIVED!Yes, that's right. The long awaited and much discussed Foof has finally come to my door. I am currently enthroned on it's microfibrous bulk in the greatest of luxury and comfort. I no longer look in envy at my cat, curled up on my pillow, wishing, "If only there was a way . . ." For now there is! It is the way of Foof. And I shall happily follow it's fooftacular teachings.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1128634640772879322005-10-06T16:36:00.000-05:002005-10-08T03:23:04.260-05:00

It's a gray, drizzly day, the first really chilly one of the year. I bust out my favorite green pea coat and brown corderoys, and top my blue hair with my grampa's black and white checked woolen "cabby" hat. As I entered the ground floor of my building after running a few errands, a man, fairly clean and sober looking, carrying a satchel and looking cold, passed by my front door. "Sweetie," he

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1128589652484675772005-10-06T04:05:00.000-05:002005-10-08T03:27:03.166-05:00

A nap and a cigarette . . .I'm dangerous.A quick glance behind me,I remember where I've been.Oh yeah,I'm a conqueror.If I choose to go out tonight,I'm a cougar,A tiger.You don't scare me.No, not even you.I ash,I strut,You watch my back recede.Who's that girl?The one you missed out on.Currently Listening: Spoon "Kill The Moonlight"Currently Reading: Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1128546213215132502005-10-05T15:44:00.000-05:002005-10-08T03:24:50.926-05:00

The people with the most confidence and the most independence are the loneliest and most scared. They don't need anyone, so they don't have anyone. They are so confident because they have nothing to lose. They have no one to lose. And they are forever fearing the formation of attachments, because that would be their downfall. They fear trust, and love, because if those processes were indulged in,

Jamienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1127151556357614252005-09-19T12:29:00.000-05:002005-09-19T12:39:16.380-05:00

This year, I'm getting everyone a piece of webcomic merch for Christmas. Yes, even my grandmother and 5 year old niece. One stop shop.So great, oh yes. You know it.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1126202755177232262005-09-08T13:01:00.000-05:002005-09-08T13:05:55.183-05:00

On Clouet Street, where a days-old fire continues to burn where a warehouse once stood, a man on a bicycle wheels up through the smoke to introduce himself as Strangebone. The nights without power or water have been tough, especially since the police took away the gun he was carrying - "They beat me and threatened to kill me," he says - but there are benefits to this new world."You're able to see

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1124759846297033092005-08-22T20:14:00.000-05:002005-08-22T20:17:26.306-05:00

The most delightful instrument.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1123810359006297172005-08-11T20:24:00.000-05:002005-08-11T20:32:39.020-05:00

I think I just had a really good idea. Say you're a kid who browses an independent bookstore on a regular basis, covets several books but has little pocket money (like Charlie Bucket). And say you're a kid who so badly wants to have a cool job at an independent bookstore. And say you're a sympathetic bookstore owner who started this for the purpose of getting books into the hands of those that

Jamienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1123232048330010222005-08-05T03:46:00.000-05:002005-08-07T01:50:51.046-05:00

I love Questionable Content. I am not alone! Though if I behaved that way, Melinda would, well, she wouldn't fire me, but she'd be very, very disappointed. (She's leaving the country soon . . . I'm definitally considering a mandatory ignorance charge on the next customer who asks me if "espressos are an iced drink")Title edit, thanks to anonymous commentor. Sorry, I was tired first time around

Jamienoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1123198973925071602005-08-04T18:27:00.000-05:002005-08-04T18:43:41.606-05:00

I know I'm dense, or maybe I was just closing my eyes to an unpleasant fact, but I just recently realized that not only is George Bush a church going, clean living christian, but he's an evangelical. As in, if he lived her in Tulsa he'd go to Rhema, he'd send his kids to Victory, he'd guest lecture at ORU. I thank Craig for making me vomit and bringing this fact to my attention.And then today I

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1123110044468031602005-08-03T17:02:00.000-05:002005-08-03T18:00:44.476-05:00

I was recently steered to this site for a template for some Kick Ass Initiative stuff. It's right, I guess. I mean, it's accurate and all. But written in the voice of The Man. It's The Man who keeps saying "let's make Tulsa COOL" and The Kids who say, "Let's make Tulsa KICKASS". It's The Man who targets youth culture and sells us sneakers and soda using very good imitations of our passions and

Jamienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1123097013560722512005-08-03T14:04:00.000-05:002005-08-03T14:23:33.566-05:00

I just finished reading Our Band Could Be Your Life by Michael Azerrad and have been listening to some of the bands it talks about that I'd not heard much, like Husker Du and Fugazi. And as good as they are, listening to them makes me think of that scene in Back To The Future, when Marty plays the arcade game in Cafe 80s, and the future kids scoff at him, "You use your hands? That's like a baby's

Jamienoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1122687781367013752005-07-29T20:31:00.000-05:002005-07-29T20:43:01.373-05:00

You know that joke about New York or L.A., how every waiter is "really" an actor? Well, in Tulsa, they're all aspiring business owners. Everywhere I go in Tulsa, I meet another young person with a business plan in their back pocket. We all have these dreams, these ideas. They're not so huge. A record store. A 'zine. A roller derby. But with the infrastructure and government we have in this

Jamienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1122570711915786072005-07-28T12:09:00.000-05:002005-07-28T12:11:51.923-05:00

If you like commentary on political and social issues relevant to young people in this part of the country from a action-oriented leftist perspective, you'll like this.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1122536266950032702005-07-28T01:50:00.000-05:002005-07-28T02:37:47.003-05:00

The service industry is a very stressful one. Dealing with customers and minute by minute deadlines, multi-tasking and working for tips . . . but you can't let it get to you. When I have busy or stressful shifts, what I do (besides sticking my head in the freezer when it's all over) is allow all my stress and annoyance at Big Train guzzling, South Tulsa daytripping, "white belts" to spill out in

Jamienoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1122492813953544932005-07-27T14:32:00.000-05:002005-07-27T14:33:33.966-05:00

No, it’s not a normal venue. No, it’s also not a flea infested firetrap run by alcoholics. It’s a big fuchsia house at 11th and Knoxville. And it’s a place Tulsa can be proud of. I’m sorry to say, I’d never been there before last night but I had a lovely evening at the $100 Taco.I was told to walk/ride/carpool because there’s not much parking. (In fact, there’s none. You have to park across 11th

Jamienoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1122298533794503252005-07-25T08:32:00.000-05:002005-07-25T08:35:33.803-05:00

Would you like to feel pain unlike you've felt or expected? Just stick your bare little wrist up against a steam wand while it's in use and you'll feel like the skin has been ripped off. I promise.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1122297431808878712005-07-25T08:16:00.000-05:002005-07-25T08:17:11.820-05:00

Verdant.Springlike.Young,Youth,Fresh.A word used in board rooms.A fresh perspective, fresh take,Fresh sound,Fresh produce.We are the fresh.We are the springlike.We are the makers of new and strange and strong.We are the market they’re looking for.We are the topsy turvy perspectiveTo inject into your daily life.The stencil on the sidewalk,The holler in the lecture hall,The crazy endeavor that wasn

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1122142002976862912005-07-23T12:53:00.000-05:002005-07-23T13:06:42.986-05:00

This Wednesday, when on my new job of Urban Tulsa delivery girl, when I deliver to the Williams Tower offices of the Tulsa Metro Chamber of Commerce, or maybe at City Hall, I'm going to walk past the receptionist desk, straight to the office of the president or the mayor, slam down my bundles of the new issue, open last week's issue to this article, and say, "Have you ever even cracked one of

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1122062021044145992005-07-22T14:53:00.000-05:002005-07-22T14:54:14.493-05:00

I saw one of these lying in the street today! Flashback to stocking stuffers and irrational requests for toys at the checkout of Target when I was five.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1121990791458821772005-07-21T19:03:00.000-05:002005-07-21T19:06:31.466-05:00

This is the coolest thing I've seen since this.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1121968359787963372005-07-21T12:52:00.000-05:002005-07-21T13:04:28.166-05:00

Whoa! Right? Yeah, I cut off my dreads. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I'm very happy with the dryad-like results. It's better suited to the function. If you recall, there was a reason I got them in the first place. Though I'm not sure I still believe everything I wrote then, I know the soul of what I meant. I wanted to be unburdened by the expectations of others. The dreads were no

Jamienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1121968196704439472005-07-21T12:49:00.000-05:002005-07-21T12:49:56.710-05:00

Before . . . (this was taken a couple months ago)

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1121967981530287642005-07-21T12:46:00.000-05:002005-07-21T12:46:21.536-05:00

Halfway there!

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1121967950888580982005-07-21T12:45:00.002-05:002005-07-21T12:45:50.896-05:00

All gone!

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1121967926740671392005-07-21T12:45:00.001-05:002005-07-21T12:45:26.746-05:00

Anime character face!

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1121967900547139082005-07-21T12:45:00.000-05:002005-07-21T12:45:00.556-05:00

The backlit end.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1121654487081329722005-07-17T21:38:00.000-05:002005-07-17T21:41:27.093-05:00

I went to see “Bukowski: Born Into This” tonight. Until today, I was unfamiliar with Charles Bukowski, except as a name. I started to read Post Office, planning on slogging through the first 50 pages before I saw the film. I nearly always expect these famous authors, these oft bandied names, to be a struggle to connect with, that I’ll have to slough through a swamp of strangeness to find the

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1121459434037736992005-07-15T15:21:00.000-05:002005-07-15T15:30:34.036-05:00

I don't know who the "drunk cam" originally belonged to, but it's still at my place. And it contains these pictures, as well as fairly nice shots of the asses and/or boobs and/or nipples and/or bellies of these people: Joe Gena Ashley Jon Jesse Robbie JWynn Lance Jake Emily Margeret Monika Kim Kimberly Carla Rose George Bart Julie Garin Joshua and a few unidentifiables. All the pictures are

Jamienoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1121458847924241622005-07-15T15:20:00.001-05:002005-07-15T15:20:47.933-05:00

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1121458831184524352005-07-15T15:20:00.000-05:002005-07-15T15:20:31.193-05:00

The aftermath.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1121458591186664472005-07-15T15:16:00.001-05:002005-07-15T15:16:31.196-05:00

More dancin'!

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1121458563484150372005-07-15T15:16:00.000-05:002005-07-15T15:16:03.493-05:00

Dancin!

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1121458491547420702005-07-15T15:14:00.000-05:002005-07-15T15:18:14.073-05:00

Asses!

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1121450311231975502005-07-15T12:51:00.000-05:002005-07-15T12:58:31.243-05:00

Not too shabby. Not too shabby at all. Assesment: two bags of beer cans. one bag of beer bottles. an empty franzia container. one chair in an unusual place. one medium sized bruise on my arm. (courtesy of George)The remote controlled car was a hit. We managed to get the band on the roof. No cops came, at least not because of us. There was political debate. There was dancing. Someone made use of

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1121177407743232532005-07-12T08:55:00.000-05:002005-07-12T09:10:07.753-05:00

I am in a foul and vile mood this morning. (vowel and file mood, ha) I am sleepy and bored and sick of listening to Cheyenne and Benny Goodman. I am THIS CLOSE to playing Beastie Boys or Soufie Nun Squad and ripping into the next person who orders a chai "to wake up with", who asks for an "iced cappucino", who calls it french vanilla, or who otherwise displays an ignorance of coffeeshop etiquette

Jamienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1121165619540838712005-07-12T05:53:00.000-05:002005-07-12T07:25:28.113-05:00

Suppose you turned west onto 33rd off of Peoria at 6:07 this morning. Suppose, despite the red “private drive” street sign, you went past the low grey building and the medical plaza, and towards the twisting and smoothly paved office complex along Crow Creek. Suppose you looked to your left. No, not the dumpsters. Not the large commercial oven abandoned in the middle of the parking lot. Come on,

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1121055895263765602005-07-10T23:01:00.000-05:002005-07-10T23:24:55.273-05:00

Chris made me a Sufjan Stevens mix CD. This music makes me ache for connections that last longer than a cup of coffee, a band's set, after the bar closes, that run deeper than an icon on a "friends page", a friendship thats still there in the morning. People who mean more to me than their credentials. To be more than entertained. Sufjan's pleading vocals and soft music makes me wish I was capable

Jamienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1120626505750369152005-07-05T23:17:00.000-05:002005-07-06T00:08:25.786-05:00

My new place is condusive to three things: eating, dancing and solitude. I have a large kitchen and a comfortable dining area. I have a wide open area with moveable furniture. I have only one comfortable place to sit, and my bedroom, like a Holy of Holies, is reached through a twisting passage to the back of the house. The spaces here much more accurately reflect me and my mind than anywhere I've

Jamienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1120622479982320332005-07-05T22:59:00.000-05:002005-07-05T23:01:19.990-05:00

I guess I have a little spare time on my hands . . . I am not this bored, I promise.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1120458077329385042005-07-04T01:20:00.000-05:002005-07-04T01:21:17.336-05:00

It will come in time. People used to complain about the length of my posts. I'll try to keep in to . . . three paragraphs. Is that a managable amount?

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1119840034698661212005-06-26T21:35:00.000-05:002005-06-26T21:40:34.700-05:00

If you live in Tulsa and don't believe the city government has the right to enforce their conservative views on a public, education based institution, please sign this petition, regardless of your religious beliefs.If you don't know the story, you can read about Tulsa's embarassment at this national news source.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1119839671835985642005-06-26T21:30:00.000-05:002005-06-26T21:34:31.843-05:00

From the Times:. . . both men and women found it easier to have an orgasm when they kept their socks on. . . . providing a pair of socks allowed 80 per cent rather than 50 per cent to reach a climax . . . Full story here.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1119658785112434302005-06-24T19:19:00.000-05:002005-06-24T19:19:45.113-05:00

With the final step between house and home bridged (internet installed) I sit listening to a skippy Flaming Lips CD, my keyboard sticky from the spray paint dust that thinly covers every single thing I own. New life. New home. It feels so good to start over. You can't begin your life again, erase your mistakes or change who you are. But you can always get a clean sheet and start working the sums

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1119655353317148142005-06-24T18:22:00.001-05:002005-06-24T18:22:33.323-05:00

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1119655331176487092005-06-24T18:22:00.000-05:002005-06-24T18:22:11.180-05:00

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1119655300726366702005-06-24T18:21:00.001-05:002005-06-24T18:21:40.733-05:00

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1119655273397899712005-06-24T18:21:00.000-05:002005-06-24T18:21:13.403-05:00

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1119655240257980972005-06-24T18:20:00.000-05:002005-06-24T18:20:40.306-05:00

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1119068361022891462005-06-17T22:45:00.000-05:002005-06-17T23:19:21.040-05:00

There's a girl who's been coming to the coffeeshop for a while. She's probably 15 or 16 and comes in with a poetry club from her public high school. Everytime these kids come in, they have an interesting effect on me. It is the effect had on someone when faced with a doppleganger of their personality at an earlier time in their life. These kids are loud and obnoxious, wanting desperately to be

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1118300542237573442005-06-09T01:59:00.000-05:002005-06-09T02:02:22.243-05:00

Hey guys. I've been leading you all on. I know I allowed you all to believe I was raised in a house by homosapiens, when in all honesty, I was a lone cro-magnon raised by cave dwelling neaderthals. Below are a few photos from my childhood, taken by errant hikers who wandered into our timeless caverns.Oh, and also, this is really funny.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1118300133805239362005-06-09T01:55:00.001-05:002005-06-09T01:55:33.810-05:00

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1118300102313021902005-06-09T01:55:00.000-05:002005-06-09T01:55:02.316-05:00

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1118300092256024412005-06-09T01:54:00.000-05:002005-06-09T01:54:52.263-05:00

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1118245709041083762005-06-08T09:58:00.000-05:002005-06-08T10:48:29.086-05:00

I have more than once been favorably called "childlike". I like to drink chocolate milk on the porch in the rain. I like to color. I like to get dirty and wear sneakers. I buy corn dogs and macaroni and cheese at Wild Oats and the lady behind the counter tells me I'd get along well with her four year old son.But I don't think it's these things that make me "childlike". Jon and Ashley say my

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1118071683545065932005-06-06T10:26:00.000-05:002005-06-06T10:28:03.553-05:00

For some reason, blogger wouldn't load when I'm at my house. So this is why I haven't written much. But it works now. But I'm moving soon. It will work there. Updates as events unfold.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1116980674206193972005-05-24T19:13:00.000-05:002005-05-24T19:25:17.693-05:00

Hypothesis: I am shrinking.Evidence:1. Clothing that once fit is now too large. All kinds and in all ways. Shirts are baggier, pants are looser, shoes are easier to kick on and pull off.2. Clothing that was previously too small now fits quite well. Again, many different kinds of clothing. Pants, shirts, even bras.3. I seem to have more hair than I am accustomed to dealing with. Not longer, but

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1116906293915753302005-05-23T22:42:00.000-05:002005-05-23T22:44:53.936-05:00

I walked out of my parent’s house last night with my father’s concerned and uncomprehending silhouette in the doorway, with my face slumped into my unfolded laundry. I played “Winners Never Quit” and smoked three cigarettes in a row while I drove. I found myself in industrial neighborhoods, surrounded by what where once bustling storefronts full of promise, stripped of their character and

Jamienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1116766610163266012005-05-22T07:54:00.000-05:002005-05-22T07:56:50.170-05:00

Population: My assBut it was a lack of sobriety that made the ladder to the roof so damn alluring, even though I was already late. Did you hear my "Good morning, Tulsa!" at 7:30 this morning? Did you feel the kiss I blew to this whole fucking town?I'm skating today. Torn muscle, shmorn muscle.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1116432293467836182005-05-18T09:53:00.000-05:002005-05-18T11:04:53.530-05:00

By the time I finish my shift today, I will have spent more than 12 hours behind this godforsaken counter, and there will be nothing but caffeine in my system. No food, no blood, no electrolytes, no H2O. I'll be running on a solution of mingled willpower and coffee. I have been here since midnight last night. I spent all night updating the shop computer, putting new software on and clearing off

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1116426434724733232005-05-18T09:27:00.000-05:002005-05-18T09:27:14.746-05:00

6:42 AM

Jamienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1116279562886235612005-05-16T16:27:00.000-05:002005-05-16T16:39:22.893-05:00

Anytime I think my writings or thoughts are a tad too mundane, I remember that Mcsweeney's has an entire section of their site devoted to reviews of new foods, and that they'll go on for paragraphs describing the attributes of saran wrap.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1116218808318123782005-05-15T23:44:00.000-05:002005-05-15T23:46:48.326-05:00

Last night I stayed up all night.Last night, we let it ride. We may not have torn this town to pieces, but that’s how it felt. Maybe no one else knew exactly how important we were, but we knew. This night was like no other. There’d been no moment like this before, and never would be another one just like it again, and so it was to be observed, celebrated, screamed through. It didn’t matter that

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1116218596732443412005-05-15T23:41:00.000-05:002005-05-15T23:43:16.740-05:00

I am, apparently, really injured. I believe I have a “severely torn muscle”. My leg is swollen and striped with the magenta of pooling blood beneath the skin, backed by the gray of bruised and damaged muscle. I did this on Tuesday, it healed a bit, and I guess I ripped apart any regenerated tissue on Friday when I went out and did the exact same thing. I noticed, showering, the discoloration. I

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1115919670354806912005-05-12T11:56:00.000-05:002005-05-12T12:41:10.603-05:00

Blogger has been down for a few days, otherwise I'd have posted other things than "Frightened And Alive". Just wanted to be clear on the fact that I have indeed had other things on my mind than the negative.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1115916386086794782005-05-12T11:35:00.000-05:002005-05-12T11:55:04.440-05:00

The slam of my car door and the heavy clatter of my new longboard on the sidewalk. Music, the complete works of Pedro the Lion on random, courtesy of the ipod. Perfect for a zen-like ride around an abandoned TU parking lot at 9am on a cloudy, cool morning. "Simple Economics" starts me off as I place my left foot just below the screws, balance, push off with the right.Immediately, pain. Pain worse

Jamienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1115017603832360822005-05-02T01:39:00.000-05:002005-05-02T02:06:43.833-05:00

How does one make feeling lonely and depressed worth reading about? How can I excise my sadness without boring you, or sounding self-pitying and pathetic? I don't want pity, that's not why I'd write about it. If I wanted support, I have people I can talk to, go to. I just want to share my burdens, send my worries and hurts out into the world. Show them for what they are.I have a secret from

Jamienoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1114948606878569942005-05-01T06:45:00.000-05:002005-05-01T11:39:25.290-05:00

There was a point, in the last 24 hours, when I stood on a corner in downtown Norman, looking across the intersection at a group of people, some in robes, all with candles, singing and chanting, at 11 o'clock on a Saturday night. With a forty of Miller High Life, with requisite paper bag, on the sidewalk between my feet, and This Was The Year To Lose Friends at my back, playing a block away.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1114529202508484192005-04-26T09:43:00.000-05:002005-04-26T10:26:42.510-05:00

I enjoy memories. I like to replay them and uncover parts of that day that I'd forgotten. When I want to write something out of my memory, I just start at the beginning, and let it run through my mind, writing down every detail that I can see in my mind's replay. Like this:On Emily Landry's birthday, I went over to the Emily's apartment on the TU campus, while they made cupcakes for their meeting

Jamienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1114359570992100152005-04-24T11:18:00.000-05:002005-04-24T22:56:00.786-05:00

Have I told you my dating metaphor? It's entirely functional, and I use it in common speech. I'll let you in.So. Any guy I might happen to like is in my "line-up". The qualifications to be in the line up is really just to pique my interest. They don't have to be "my type" or whatever, just interesting enough to merit a second glance. That gets you on the team. You're in the dug-out if you're cute

Jamienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1114318429252110112005-04-23T23:00:00.000-05:002005-04-24T09:59:19.196-05:00

I just spent a couple hours with a couple of my nephews. Josh and Justin. I brought them to the shop and I tried to find music they'd like. Josh is nearly 12 and likes Simple Plan and Bowling For Soup. I tried them on everything I could think of, at least in the time I had, and the closest I got to pleasing them was Hey Mercedes and Minus The Bear, though neither were a hit. They thought Steve

Jamienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1114307541021781572005-04-23T20:23:00.000-05:002005-04-23T20:52:21.023-05:00

If you made the mistake of asking me what I'm reading these days, this would be the result:The Rise of the Creative Class by Richard FloridaA very trendy take on where the world is going. Isn't it nice to believe that there is a creative class? And even better, it's on the rise? Not to disdain Florida's points, I totally believe in what he's saying. But it does sound too good to be true. His main

Jamienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1114004425497211572005-04-20T07:34:00.000-05:002005-04-20T08:40:25.500-05:00

It has been a bit, hasn't it? Well, here's the update for those who're following the game.It seems we cannot settle on a location. Everytime I think I'm close to my perfect space, another one, bigger or cheaper or nicer, pops up. And I keep getting closer to settled before the new one arrives. Just you watch, the day we open our doors, the mayor will walk in and offer us the new stadium, for

Jamienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1113409042063745722005-04-13T10:14:00.000-05:002005-04-13T11:17:22.066-05:00

"Wait a second, how many of you do you think are so self-obsessed?All the good ones. Or rather, there's actually two ways the self-obsession manifests itself: those that turn it inward, and those that turn it outward. For instance, I have this friend John who just channels it all inward---he talks about his problems. his girlfriend, his poor prospects, how his parents died, on and on, to the poit

Jamienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1113287667319149782005-04-12T00:30:00.000-05:002005-04-12T01:34:27.323-05:00

I was awoken at 9:30 by the sound of my cat scratching at my door. I let him into my room and we cuddled on the clean sheets of my newly laundered bed while I thought about all I had to do today. After a while, I rose and began going about my morning tasks; toothbrush, make bed, coffee brew. While still doing these things, not yet dressed, Joseph Holsten calls to tell me, "Jane Austen, NPR, now."

Jamienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1113085777329353412005-04-09T17:23:00.000-05:002005-04-09T17:29:37.330-05:00

To write about my Friday evening, I'd have to tell you about the most perfectly executed drunkenness I've ever experienced. I'd be forced to regale you with tales of all the facinating and wonderful people I got to spend time with. You'd be required to hear about how good Cheyenne and Damezumari were, and how I danced to Cheyenne with some of my lovely friends. I'd talk your ear off with how

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1113085350094245812005-04-09T17:22:00.000-05:002005-04-09T17:22:30.093-05:00

I call this, "Compromise On A Saturday Afternoon"

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1112942876952772692005-04-08T01:41:00.000-05:002005-04-08T01:47:56.953-05:00

For some reason, the past two times I've come home from work, I've been in an incredibly bad and inexplicable mood. I feel ugly, uninteresting, lonely, useless, and think nobody likes me. I have no idea why.I need always to either be in large groups where I can charm and laugh and dance without having to fully connect, like a busy night at work or a party, or with just a few people who I can

Jamienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1112734466591980722005-04-05T15:43:00.000-05:002005-04-05T15:54:26.593-05:00

I was laying in the hammock, reading a depressing Dave Eggers story after having a good cry. I heard a noise by the back door, like Ash had tried to open the door and then dropped something. I rolled out of the hammock and went to the door. There was no one there, but there was a ladder, going up into the door in the roof of the porch. I could hear someone moving around, so I delightedly set my

Jamienoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1112498250665451812005-04-02T21:07:00.000-06:002005-04-02T21:17:30.666-06:00

I talked to my mother today about how she was at my age. She never talks about it, but she spent a summer in Cape Cod, hitchhiking around Massechusetts. She spent a couple months in Europe, dating guys whose language she barely knew. She smoked pot for the first time in a park on Lakeshore Drive in Chicago, with a Jewish guy she was staying with on her way to New York City. Before I was born, she

Jamienoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1112431343163574062005-04-02T02:39:00.000-06:002005-04-02T02:42:23.166-06:00

Today was an incredible day. It was a wonderful day. Sure there was that half hour where I cried and threw things and screamed curses at the top of my lungs and was so sad and angry that I was shaking and I couldn't stop. But there was also that half hour where I laughed without needing a reason or knowing why. And there were the punk rock zombies terroizing Brookside. And there was looking at

Jamienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1112078573673112812005-03-29T00:29:00.000-06:002005-03-29T00:42:53.676-06:00

I went here and here today. I also got a new one of these. It's this person's birthday today. Oh, and I nearly decided to go here with this person and this person but couldn't get time off from here.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1112032834983417072005-03-28T12:00:00.000-06:002005-03-28T12:00:34.983-06:00

I wanted to share this picture because the young man on the far right, my nephew Jay, is singing a song of his own composition at the time of it's taking, the song being a funky melody, a dance, and the words, "I love Easter, baby. I love Easter, BAY-BEH!" (Next to him is his sister Megan, the tall one is Josh, the turned fellow is Justin.)

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1111825539328811912005-03-26T02:16:00.000-06:002005-03-26T02:25:39.330-06:00

Dance party in Stillwater. That's what I did tonight. Room full of strangers, I danced my ass off. Totally sober. Awesome. Dance parties are my new favorite thing. Dance party! 40 smelly college students crammed in a living room, shaking their hips to the sounds of "The Go Team" and Micheal Jackson. Incredible. This is what music is about, for me, I think. I think I've found how to show my love

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1111739727234178892005-03-25T02:26:00.000-06:002005-03-25T02:35:27.236-06:00

I haven't felt this way in years. The graceful curve of a piece of sculpture. The flickering light of a candle. Rilo Kiley's "It Just Is". The memory of Ashley calling me "a sturdy friend". It all combines to fill me up, wave of something beautiful that can't stop rising, won't stop. It feels like inhaling a wonderful smell so deeply can nearly taste it. You breath in and breath in until your

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1111736319529309332005-03-25T01:26:00.000-06:002005-03-25T01:38:39.533-06:00

Not counting Jordan, Katie and BB across the street, we have two new neighbors. One, in the other building, I saw moving in when I was leaving for work. He was a young guy, some kind of non-white ethnicity, and it looked like his dad was helping him move in. They were carrying a couch together, and they had a big white van with both OU and OSU stickers on it, full of furniture and boxes. I bet

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1111689449900917772005-03-24T12:24:00.000-06:002005-03-24T12:37:29.903-06:00

My mother's name is Delia. Diana (Artemis in Greek) is the goddess of virginity and young women, is associated with the moon and is the huntress patron of female independence. She and her brother Phoebus Apollo were born on the wandering island of Delos. Because of their divine birth there, no one may now live, be born, or die there. It is illegal. Thus, to refer to a person from Delos, you must

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1111561903495825562005-03-23T01:01:00.000-06:002005-03-23T01:11:43.496-06:00

I love my job. I LOVE my job. I really do.Tonight, at work:Melinda asked and listened to my advice on an important, shop related issue.I saw Jennifer Hoppa and revived our friendship.I was able to be a part of TU social life without actually having to be there.Everyone at the bar was my friend.Everyone at the bar I had met through the shop.I mastered the art of steaming milk with fruit syrups.I

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1111489644428981682005-03-22T05:00:00.000-06:002005-03-22T05:07:24.430-06:00

I don't see why I should ever trust anyone with anything they might be able to hurt me with ever again. I cannot see what reasoning there is to even attempt the deeper kinds of human contact with anyone, because all it's done for me has gotten me hurt. Everyone I've ever trusted has either left me, or turned on me. I don't trust anyone now. No one that I call my friend right now do I really trust

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1111378657605372502005-03-20T21:46:00.000-06:002005-03-20T22:17:37.606-06:00

I'm at SOB, not working. In more ways than one. As in, I am not on the clock and making drinks. As in, I came here to do homework and am instead chatting girlishly with Tonia. But that's ok, because I haven't seen her in an excessively long time.Last night, at the Green Door, I came out of a stall in the bathroom and found myself surrounded by similarly shaped beings. I was shocked by the

Jamienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1111339410509273852005-03-20T11:17:00.000-06:002005-03-20T11:23:30.510-06:00

I'm in Tulsa! I have been a couple of days but I've been pretending I wasn't. Real life resumes at 1:oo today when I go in to work, and that's ok. This week has been just what I needed, even if invaded by frustration. It capped off last night at Mewithoutyou, to which everyone should have gone. If you knew about Mw/oY and went to Tokyo Smash instead, I am not going to deny that I think negatively

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1110964455414948392005-03-16T03:12:00.000-06:002005-03-16T03:14:15.426-06:00

Stella’s Coffee Haus, Pearl Street, Denver 2 PM. Monday. My day begins. Note the time? That is an exciting beginning. For me. The last time I slept that much was when I had the flu. The time before that, I have no idea.I am awake. I have had enough of lounging, it’s time to do this thang. Up, dressed, mapquest, I’m ready to go. First place on my list; former hang out of Five Iron Frenzy, Denver

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1110763866971132862005-03-13T19:07:00.000-06:002005-03-13T19:31:06.973-06:00

The Kentom, apt. 28, Denver 6:07 PM MTWell, I'm at Sarah's. I think, tonight, I may just stay here. I'll go out if I'm hungry, but I can't remember the last time I sat on a sofa, read, watched movies, alone.Driving up to Sarah's here in Denver from Becky's, just south in Englewood, I looked around at the city moving around me, and I felt my aloneness, and the possibilities of my own life as

Jamienoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1110736127454594692005-03-13T11:43:00.000-06:002005-03-13T11:48:47.456-06:00

Downtown CO Springs, 9:17 PM MTAl and I are currently in a coffeeshop in downtown Colorado Springs, Pike’s Perk. A obnoxiously appropriate name which I feel must be repeated in coffee based businesses throughout this region. Coffee’s bad, wireless is account based, I hate that. But it’s the only place open while we wait for Leslie to get off work. Downtown CO Springs is pretty lively, but not

Jamienoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1110526411890279512005-03-11T01:30:00.000-06:002005-03-11T01:33:31.893-06:00

Things are so totally going to be ok. In all/the only two parts of my life that matter anymore. Things will be ok.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1110424621007863452005-03-09T21:08:00.000-06:002005-03-09T21:17:01.006-06:00

Watching "Sex In The City" at my mom's house. Whoa. That's all I have to say concerning such things.Just posting to say I haven't had time to post. I have things to say, just no time to say them. For example, I have yet tonight to study for a Latin test, do laundry, have an emotional phone call with my sister, and try to spend some time with Ashley. And it's 9:14. And in the morning I have to

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1110319292388820862005-03-08T15:58:00.000-06:002005-03-08T16:01:32.390-06:00

THE DRIVE TO COLORADO WILL BE NEARLY 18 HOURS, NOT THE USUAL 10-12, IF WE GO THROUGH NEW MEXICO LIKE WE'VE PLANNED. Damn. Kick ass. Those mesas better blow my mind.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1110011801145729082005-03-05T02:23:00.000-06:002005-03-05T02:41:09.993-06:00

Do you know how strong the temptation is to explain the whole story? To put it here, to expose the truth of John and I's relationship in an entirely public way? I cheated, huh? Oh God, it would be so easy to write it all right now. I'm so hurt and angry, confused and sad. I could pour it all out in the most eloquent, furious prose. Make him look like twice monster he's made me out to be.And he'd

Jamienoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1109921504652757812005-03-04T01:23:00.000-06:002005-03-04T01:31:44.663-06:00

I think I saw you today.You were on the other side of a lake.There was a guitar, a patchwork quilt,And a little stray cat.I thought about waving,But then I was dreaming,And the lake became an oceanAnd you became a whale.I lost sight of the shore and the rocks and the patchwork quilt,And all I saw was water,And all I felt was lack of air,And all I was was drowning.

Jamienoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472589.post-1109756791325123462005-03-02T03:46:00.000-06:002005-03-02T03:46:31.326-06:00

Jamienoreply@blogger.com2