| rockin pneumonia and the boogie woogie flu's Journal |
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rockin pneumonia and the boogie woogie flu
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[18 Dec 2006|06:26am] |
wowee! i am finished with semester #3 and coming to fayetteville for about a month tomorrow.
in the past million years i:
1. bought an electric typewriter that works perfectly for $5 from the bins.
2. had a boyfriend then dumped him, with the consequence of bitter looks all the time.
3. went insane!
4. wrote thirty pages in four days for skool.
5. got lots of emails from ryland
6. started wearing a sweater vest and lost most of my aesthetic sense.
for hannukah i want:
1. a soldering gun
2. a record player
3. a nice warm and stylish coat
my hair is getting long and r. is coming back to portland very very very soon, for which i am excited.
i hope that i have friends in fayetteville but it's cool if i don't, i can catch up on sleep. one time the awake to sleep ratio was 72/5! pretty impressive.
also i've listened to "eye of the tiger" approximately fifteen trillion times. every hour on the hour.
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[05 Nov 2006|06:04pm] |
| You scored as Dance. You should be a Dance major! Like a lithe ballerina, you dance because you believe there is beauty in expressing the physical form.
Art | | 100% | Dance | | 100% | Linguistics | | 100% | English | | 100% | Theater | | 92% | Psychology | | 83% | Philosophy | | 75% | Journalism | | 75% | Mathematics | | 67% | Sociology | | 58% | Engineering | | 50% | Anthropology | | 33% | Chemistry | | 25% | Biology | | 25% | </td>
What is your Perfect Major? (PLEASE RATE ME!!<3)
created with QuizFarm.com |
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[21 Aug 2006|03:42am] |
dear perfect boy,
thank you for existing. and thank you for existing when and where i exist. and tarot cards are deceiving, sometimes.
with eternal admiration,
sarah levine.
mood: euphoric.
music: the motherfucking blues brothers.
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[19 Aug 2006|01:52pm] |
ehem.
dear SNAKES ON A PLANE, you are the best thing that's ever happened to life. the snake-vision, the gratuitous sex-turned-gratuitous-DISGUSTING-SNAKE-ATTACKS, samuel "do as i say and you live" l. jackson, samuel "mutha fuckin snakes on a mutha fuckin plane" l. jackson, and samuel "you people?" l. jackson. thank you for making mirth within me.
dear tarot card reader, you are fucking amazing. i spent five dollars on you and you told me lots of accurate details about who i am as a person. when i am twenty seven i'll look back on life and realize just how right you were.
dear subconcious, nice to know you're leading a healthily weird life. last night's dream about mafia mcdonalds, creepy poncho'ed men being fended off with umbrellas, hot sex with t.namba followed by nitrous wine and me telling avery just where to stick it made a lot of sense. so thanks. and i'm looking forward to seeing hannah again.
dear body, i know, i know, i'm sorry that i don't shower more often. i'm trying to make it so boys with pretty eyes don't tell me that i'm "super gorgeous" and that they've been "stoked" for the past "three weeks" to hang out with me. i'm trying to stop being a sleazeball, alright, and i'm not super gorgeous, i'm sort of cute. stop being stoked.
in conclusion, a verse from young mc:
WOMEN: let me tell you about 'em.
can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.
the ones you like only seem to hate you,
the ones you hate only seem to date you.
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| things that need to be said. |
[18 Aug 2006|06:08pm] |
oh internet, you cause so many unnecessary problems in people's lives! dear avery ucker, why do you do what you do? why do you read my stupid livejournal and converse about it with real-life people? that's a really silly thing to do.
dear people who look at me like they hate me on the street, please quit it. i'm a nice person, really, i promise.
dear ian, you're a really cool person.
dear new slip/dress, you are a sex machine! i am looking forward to biking while wearing you.
dear perfect bicycle, how am i going to transport you from fayetteville to portland? what a dilemma.
dear people that i want to hang out with and know better in fayetteville, why do you act like you're too cool for school? i'm a pretty okay person. i can converse and make stupid jokes, and maybe we'd have a good time if we hung out. but you will never know, will you, because you snub like there's no tomorrow. dear dear, how aloof.
dear unsatisfactory sex, how disappointing you are. move your hands around more, come on, be imaginative. i don't like pretending to be a robot. thank goodness i am not married to you!
and finally, dear lovely house in portland, i am going to be deep inside of you in just four short days. be stalwart, my darling.
(collectively) sincerely,
sarah levine
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[09 Aug 2006|06:06pm] |
I got a brand new girlfriend
we went and jumped off the deep end
flew out to LA for the weekend
spent the whole day, lyin' on the beach,
wearin' nothin' but a smile,
playin' kissy-kissy, smoochy-smoochy,
talkin' mooshy-mooshy bout nothin'
man, I think im on to somethin'
ya know I feel just like a kid again
I got a brand new girlfriend
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[08 Aug 2006|07:26pm] |
i went on a date with a boy. we pretended to be superspies and biked to woodstock park, where we wrote angry letters to the plaid pantry on his typewriter. we also sat on top of his roof holding hands and looking at the moon, and putting our heads on eachother's shoulders.
this morning i woke up and dressed anachronistically, and sashayed out of my house only to find a typed invitation to another date pinned to my front door. scrabble on the front lawn, it said. how amazingly adorable and nice.
i really like hanging out with eccentric and creative people.
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[06 Aug 2006|03:18am] |
P.S. this is who i want to be:
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| haterade |
[06 Aug 2006|02:13am] |
dear samantha sigmon,
i know why you hate my guts, and i know that my pleas of innocence will fall on deaf ears, so i guess all i can say is that i'm sorry that you hate my guts. but of course i'm not going to come over to your house if you hate me! i don't want to die. as i said, i'll avoid you at all costs, or be present if you want to scream and get it all out.
sincerely,
sarah levine
dear diary,
i fucking hate fayetteville and i haven't even gone back yet. this summer has been incredible, just hanging out with people that i genuinely like and who genuinely like me, chill times, wild times, the works. i like it when people talk about things openly rather than not talk about them, or talk about them with a surreptitious facade. it's always a shock to remember that everyone at reed is so incredibly badass, and people in the real world aren't like that. and i really don't know how to deal with people hating me. this girl avery at my school hated me, so i made macaroni art for her. will that make things better? i know i'm a terrible person, and i've gotten so used to not having morals that i forget that other people have them and having them makes them get really angry a lot of the time. i mean, i got really angry tonight when justin holguin told me he got a publicist so he could get famous and sleep with louis vuitton models, because they look like they're made out of bronze. nothing is important to me.
anyway, sorry. i know i'm the devil. for future reference, don't trust me ever because i'll inadvertently curbstomp your friendship as soon as you get too close.
i still love yoko ono.
anyway again. time to talk about real things. last night was one of the best nights of the summer, we all hung out at the freebase with an enormous mirror over platzie's bathtub, if you know what i mean. it was so fun and laid-back. tetsuro, questing for a broken heart, wrapped himself around a tree via bicycle and broke his ankle. but the best part, oh the best part, is that after he broke his ankle, he got up, hobbled three blocks back to the freebase, put some ice on it, and proceeded to get massively fucked up via alcohol and illegal drugs. then, the next morning we all went out for dim sum, and only then did he go to the hospital. what a fucking king. while we were waiting for him to get out, andrew platzie jake rob and i went to a car show that was deliciously white trash, and then to a meth-house yard sale, where they bought a CHAINSAW for five dollars. then we got tets and went back to the house, where platzie and i collaborated on the most offensive stencil we could think of.
( the most offensive stencil me and platzie could think of )
also during dim sum jake, who is the coolest person i've ever met, regaled us with stories of the most offensive things he's ever done. we degenerated to five year olds finally when jake turned to rob...
jake: want to hear the second most offensive thing i've ever done?
rob: okay.
jake: what did the whale say to the seagull?
rob: i don't know, what?
and then jake proceeded to take a leisurely sip of water and spit it in rob's face. hilarity ensued.
anyway. i'm coming back to fayetteville from august 10th to 22nd, but don't worry sam sigmon, i will stay away from your wrath. it's only twelve days. i think i can make it.
mossily,
sarah levine
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| dance dance party party |
[03 Aug 2006|08:15pm] |
i've been facetiously wooing platzie, it's pretty fun. i made him a stencil that says PLATZIE! with a pretty bird on it, and then taped it to his door. i asked him if it would be a good wooing technique to play peter gabriel on my jam box in the say anything pose outside his window (his housemates recommended daft punk, dear me). i don't actually want platzie, i just think he's hilarious and adorable.
pompadours are fucking awesome.
wild zero is fucking awesome.
andrew michaan coming back to portland tonight is fucking awesome.
since i decided to be, in the words of shane, a "remorseless little sexpot", i've been, predictably, not having sex! i think it's because if i decide that it's okay to have sex whenever i want, i will do it whenever i want, not whenever i think other people want or whenever i want to want, etc. so i've been feeling better about my status as a human being! and also, wearing sexy dark lipstick, and dressing stylishly. last night forrest tripped on acid and we went around the neighborhood and fucked shit up. jake made a stencil that says DON'T BE A PUSSY and spray painted it in pink on rob's mirror. then they made tee-shirts, like all hardcore anarchist stencil revolutionaries do, right? right? aha. also caitlin and i made macaroni art for avery to get her to stop hating my guts, mine had a subliminal (i.e. non-labeled) literal depiction of the beefcake on it. who i am hanging out with tonight. as well as andrew michaan. who is fucking awesome.
sam the sham was supposed to come over today and drive me and furniture around in his truck in exchange for food, but he never came by. however, that turned out to be a blessing in disguise because instead of getting furniture, i found my house key, which all in all is a much better deal. a house without furniture is better than furniture and no house.
i can't hear the doorbell from my room so unless people are driving cars which they then park in my driveway i have no way of perceiving visitors. apparently jesse smith is back. my legs ache from biking but the plus side is, rob and i are going to start a greaser gang and wear pompadours, which we will comb obsessively, and beat up new kids for their meal points. and swagger.
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[31 Jul 2006|08:21pm] |
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i love yoko ono.
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[30 Jul 2006|11:46pm] |
ALRIGHT LISTEN UP
here it is. are you ready? FUCK IT. i am the lost sacred feminine! i am sexual mystique! fuck girls! fuck catty competitive fake friendships! fuck monogamy! instead of feeling terrible about myself all the time, i have decided to be ON TOP OF THE WORLD! literally! i will be a femme fatale and MAKE SWEET HOT LOVE TO ALL THE ATTRACTIVE AND INTERESTING BOYS IN THE UNIVERSE! no more feeling bad just because people talk shit. i do what i want. if it's detrimental to you, tell me and we'll work something out. if it has NO BEARING ON YOUR LIFE, then please leave me be! i do what i want! when i want! how i want! and no mummy (hear me, band-aid?) is going to tell me what to do.
i'm not going to feel bad about myself anymore. i'm just not.
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[29 Jul 2006|02:54pm] |
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hum. i like drawing pictures.
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[28 Jul 2006|01:28am] |
dear diary,
oh my fucking god. i've fucking lost it forever.
with complete and utter resignation,
saslkjres leaevinesaseas
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[27 Jul 2006|12:37am] |
dear arctic circle,
i am not really that fascinating, but it is nice of you to say. it's always funny for me to get comments on my journal from people that i don't know, even though i guess that is what the internet is all about. who are you? do you like mint tea? do you like umbrellas?
introductorily,
sarah levine
dear diary,
today i wore my picnic blanket/scarf/bed/tent/chair around, had a picnic, and did drugs. i feel calm and solitary now. i want to keep feeling like this. the other day i went to the bins and only bought things that matched what i was wearing. these items included: a red and white scarf, a red, black, and white three record collection of swing music from the early 1940s, a teenage mutant ninja turtles comic book, big tall boots with red stars on them, a new jam box, and a vcr which i am sharing with evan, meaning it is at his house forever but i get to come over any time i want and watch videos. i have a huge crush on all of evan's house, including but not limited to: evan, natalie, scott, scott's invisible (so far) girlfriend, jon feder, dirty dishes, a cold basement with a television and good movies, taiko the cat that has the feline version of HIV, secrets, and awesome music all the time that i put on and dance around to while we all sit out back and smoke cigarettes and have mellow conversations and affectionately torture the cat. i also love sufjan stevens. and while i don't think i'm going to do any more, nitrous oxide is really helping me work through some of my overpoweringly large mountain of bullshit.
reflectively,
sarah levine
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[22 Jul 2006|09:25pm] |
1. it's 9:25 p.m. and i've only smoked three cigarettes
2. i'm leaving in half an hour to pick up allison from the airport!
3. i hope she isn't tired because my friend hannah is having a sweet birthday party tonight also
4. it's hot as hell here but life is good anyway
5. i'm not going to have sex. i promise. ever.
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[22 Jul 2006|04:29am] |
dear diary,
a post-script:
i need advice. what do you do if you don't want to have sex because it makes you feel like crap afterwards, but you do want to have platonic physical contact with people? i am not a tease. but i want to hold people's hands. and rub people's backs. and lie down next to people with the side of my body touching theirs. but all these things lead to sex. and sex makes me feel like crap afterwards. but i also feel like crap anyway, since i don't ever touch people, unless it's for a sexual purpose. so. how do people do that. you know, touching other people but also not having sex with them. please tell me. this is not my forte.
confusedly,
sarah levine
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[22 Jul 2006|04:21am] |
dear diary,
nothing has changed, i'm still madly in love with ryland, i talked to him on the phone for an hour and a half the other day, i got really drunk with tets platzer rob and hannah, we deep-fried things and listened to really loud country music to try and battle the ridiculous heat wave. 106 my ass. fuck you, weather. i had a really good conversation with evan bale, we are friends, i did more wippets but i'm not going to do any for a while, i biked around places, i'm not going to have sex any more for real this time, i drew pictures, i'm still madly in love with ryland, i'm still madly in love with ryland, i'm still thinking about ryland all the time, but i don't care at this point because i've come to terms with my infatuation and if i'm going to be infatuated by god i'm just going to learn to like it.
resignedly and somewhat intoxicatedly,
sarah levine
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| quotes, boys, etc. |
[20 Jul 2006|09:34am] |
you guys, i'm super serial, you guys.
well, i thought that i had reached my peak, but i was wrong. shit! shit! shit! i think i'm dating someone now. his name is pauly. he's from seattle. he knows ryan baka. he works for save the children. and ryland just keeps on keeping on, by which i mean, keeps on sending me cryptic as fuck emails. i am going to make sure that i am not drunk tonight and then call him. at. um. five. which is nine his time. my stomach is very empty. it needs to be an hour later than it is. it's like sixty minutes on acid. i'll tell you later.
david byrne-dly,
sarah levine
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sesquipidalia's journal