http://www.stidrillzpoetri.blogspot.com

http://www.stidrillzpoetri.blogspot.com 

On the Waterfront by B.H. Fairchild

—know thyself

Flashlight in hand, I stand just inside the door
in my starched white shirt, red jacket nailed shut
by six gold buttons, and a plastic black bowtie,
a sort of smaller movie screen reflecting back
the larger one. Is that really you? says Mrs. Pierce,
my Latin teacher, as I lead her to her seat
between the Neiderlands, our neighbors, and Mickey Breen,
who owns the liquor store. Walking back, I see
their faces bright and childlike in the mirrored glare
of a tragic winter New York sky. I know them all,
these small-town worried faces, these natives of the known,
the real, a highway and brown fields, and New York
is a foreign land—the waterfront, unions, priests,
the tugboat's moan—exotic as Siam or Casablanca.
I have seen this movie seven times, memorized the lines:
Edie, raised by nuns, pleading—praying, really—
Isn't everyone a part of everybody else?
and Terry, angry, stunned with guilt, Quit worrying
about the truth. Worry about yourself, while I,
in this one-movie Kansas town where everyone
is a part of everybody else, am waiting darkly
for a self to worry over, a name, a place,
New York, on 52nd Street between the Five Spot
and Jimmy Ryan's where bebop and blue neon lights
would fill my room and I would wear a porkpie hat
and play tenor saxophone like Lester Young, but now,
however, I am lost, and Edie, too, and Charlie,
Father Barry, Pop, even Terry because he worried
more about the truth than he did about himself,
and I scan the little mounds of bodies now lost even
to themselves as the movie rushes to its end,
car lights winging down an alley, quick shadows
fluttering across this East River of familiar faces
like storm clouds cluttering a wheat field or geese
in autumn plowing through the sun, that honking,
that moan of a boat in fog. I walk outside
to cop a smoke, I could have been a contender,
I could have been somebody instead of who I am,
and look across the street at the Army-Navy store
where we would try on gas masks, and Elmer Fox
would let us hold the Purple Hearts, but it's over now,
and they are leaving, Goodnight, Mr. Neiderland,
Goodnight, Mrs. Neiderland, Goodnight, Mick, Goodnight,
Mrs. Pierce, as she, a woman who has lived alone
for forty years and for two of those has suffered through
my botched translations from the Latin tongue, smiles,
Nosce te ipsum, and I have no idea what she means.

ow

i'm all scraped up and i don't know what's going on. but i'm not homeless or dead, so that's kool. i have 2/6 of the senses i'm supposed to have. i can hear and i can be happy.

(wut?)

i am half a lunatic

holy god, i'm so scared of myself right now

i started working on my play earlier (around midnight, really it's 8am already? i've been sitting in the same chair since then? k) and i didn't go out, and i got through ten solid pages, wrapped up two scenes, not too awful at all actually even better than i thought id do....

then after that i took a break, chilled out on the carpet ate chips ahoy etc etc. worked on my production book, strategized how i was going to handle the rest of the play and what direction i wanted it to go and blahblahblah....BUT.

THEN.

i got my second wind, nabbed it and went back to work on it at like 3.

now it's 8am and i have no idea wtf i was doing for five hours, but apparently some lunatic inside me wrote ten more pages AND EVERY SINGLE ONE IS ABSOLUTE MANIACAL SHIT

oh my god

i have never tweaked so hard in my entire life

i just spent three hours on shitty shit that's crazy and scary and i can't even use. at all. for anything unless in the future i want to write a play about a schizophrenic narrator in worn out flannel. THREE HOURS LATER!!!!!!! HUH????????? IS THERE A YEERK IN MY BRAIN???????????? WTF WTF BYE

resolution seven:

to write for an audience again.

bob dylan

i fucking love bob dylan so much. like so much i don't know how to express it. like it's weird. why was i not alive in the 1960s. why can't i remember how to spell anything. why have i lost my ability to form coherent ideas? shoulda been an english major. won't write til noon tomorrow. i'm glad my keyboard's falling apart though! so perf! i love twitter because it gives me an excuse to publicize my awesome thoughts without seeming like a narcissist. fuck off if you don't like it, it's because you have nothing to say. virgin records should never go out of business. i hate b&n too. i just heard the fucking mouse. i will tell you this much: i will marry just once. and if it doesn't work out i'll give him half of my stuff. it's fine with me. i'm sad that so many things i like are dying. i'm sad that i'm young now and that i won't be young in the future. i won't come every time you call. i wonder what would happen if there was an earthquake under new york. it would probably be pretty in the way that anorexic people are pretty. yknow what's always really pretty? art. student films are the worst things ever-- they're so hopeful they make me depressed. i am so sublime because i've numbed myself to da bone and it's better than feeling. the russians, too, have god on their side. 

ive got a plan. im gonna find out how boring i am and have a good time

inside of me, i'm feeling big things as i press my stomach against the cold linoleum floor. i am feeling things, and i am noticing how hard the floor is and how soft i am against it (!!)

and as i try to explain my discomfort in the plainest words i can muster, i turn up a 12 bar blues or i listen to the ababcb pattern on the radio, and i appreciate all i can in the routine of things, and i ogle at simple and my heart feels warm

and i wonder if i wasn't like this then how else would i be?

...and then i finish what i started sleep a little wake soonafter

and start again, 

and i realize i don't have to survive long enough at all to feel entitled while jabbing my finger real hard in ernest hemingway's weathered face (not weathered enough) 

fix-ate (aka oh yeah i forgot about poetry)

I’ll tell you that when I was a little girl I loved this one Christmas tree ornament.
It was pearl colored, and a perfect sphere and I insisted that it hang three branches below the angel at the top in perfect line with it so I could stare straight at it whenever I entered the living room at the right angle

My sister had a favorite one too, and she put hers on a bottom branch so it wouldn’t break,
I don’t remember what color hers was or what shape or if there were trimmings in gold but I do remember it was her favorite

But oh my pearl colored pretty little ornament, it was gleaming like it should, making the bells and the broken nutcrackers, everything around it, look prettier just because it was there

And I swore to myself it was magical and that what it did was trap the light of the room inside of its sphere so it could outshine everything else, and it did, it did everything I wanted it to

On a goose-colored Thursday it fell and broke into three ugly pearl colored pieces, taking down two or three nutcrackers with it, and you know I was so heartbroken I had to be persuaded not to cancel Christmas

There’d be no more fun without the bauble nestled above us all, suspended, not doing much at all but reminding us of its existence and that was enough for me, that was even more than enough, that was really all I’d wanted

And then Christmas followed quickly, I don’t remember much of it, but I do remember that all morning long I pretended I was the light inside its pearly face, I tried so hard to pretend that I think I missed a point of the holiday

And the three broken pieces, I had to throw them out, I didn’t find any light on the inside

mmfjfje

i woke up at 745, and within ten minutes my mom was out of bed making me coffee. i wrote for 40 mins and now she's watching god tv on the big screen. my dad is reading the paper on the living room floor. we bout to get bagelz from river rd. i always forget what it's like. 

I like your ring!

"Is it a crown?"

"Yeah. My husband is the king of the Lower East Side."

WTF???

I just want to be a boy.

things i have to say but can't find a way to thread them together:

- i never realized how awful the lyrics to the carmen sandiego theme song were. judge for yourself....... HERE
- was oddly nostalgic, so i went on ytmnd.com...???
- silver spurs diner? IT RULES.
- all this hype about kate's oscar makes me want her to lose. might be me holding a grudge because i never saw the reader
- the actual definition of the word "downtrodden" is: oppressed or treated badly by people in power. may still hold true, but not as a synonym for "melancholy".
- f entourage. most overrated show in america. it always sound like dead air to me, i don't get what I AM MISSING!!!!!!
- devendra banhart, i spent a year thinking you were cool, but now i've come to realize, you piss me off
- los angeles = palm trees (some assembly required)
- i hate that walk for 4,492,572 different reasons.
- it makes me almost cry
- that is a very deliberate 'almost', because i forget how to actually follow through with it
- neekapz r weird!!!111oneoneone
- bad sex really is worse than other awful things. like syphilis
- when i think "happy childhood".... i think "douglas yancy funnie"
- never met so many lame foreign dudes at once, GOOD JOB WoWoWoW!!!
- this is self-indulgent and rude, but i also forget how to apologize. and i wanted my coffee hot, not iced. today has no soundtrack. just the radiatoRrrRrRrrr.

uh>?>,l???

a few fine years of jumping on pillows and reaching for one absolute... attempting to hold time tiny. but then we're fucked and we plummet back to settling and we cry about the good times. an apparition about lost aspiration. i'm in the present but presiding in the future and looking back... and mawkishly...(very...) without being articulate, and from necessity and self-righteousness, comes a weird phenomenon... and sad too. that........ is the over-quoted Life, but since i'm in the heart of it, i could not care less.

i will think over it instead...

for now

(update: now that i am coherent and sober, i am still researching if those were really tadpoles i drank last night.) 

the clock's held 9:15 for hours

started my day with coffee and special k vanilla almond... ending my day with coffee and special k vanilla almond. i am one big revolving creature of habit. 

music that i've listened to today, in order, to give you a of jist of my mood progression throughout the hourz: esperanza spalding, like 4 miles albums, norah jones, rufus wainwright, the smiths. just took my ipod off the dock and am deciding if i'm in the mood to listen to any music at all right now. i think i'm tired of noise. my ears hurt and my nerves are all pinching together. i'm all muzak'd out. 

things that i did today: nothing, redid my resume, applied to 20 internships most of which are for publishing houses or wEbZiNeZz... want to do webvideo writing for the onion so badly... cover letters are stupid... firefox makes me feel claustrophobic and i don't know why i'm using it right now... do i really want to be here all summer???

i am going to go and read the rolling stone compilation of dylan interviews because i can't think in concrete thoughts right now and that's prob the only thing i can read at the moment without wandering. i think i applied to a job on their website's editorial team...or started to maybe... they wanted a blog............

#99

off sufjan's satan saxophones, 

and while i create verse somewhere in my head from marshmallows,

the dinosaurs are walking around in swamps expecting to survive.

in their pleated iron armor and six-inch spikes off their spines

they could very well have been purple or polka dotted,

'cause who's to say they weren't? who was there?

when i was little i dreamed 'what ifs' like mad, what if

a dinosaur egg hatched in tasmania, and they returned to earth?

i used to think we could coexist-- when i got older i was sure 

we didn't have a chance. nowadays i know the baby would be killed,

probably with a quick clean razor, so as not to upset mothers.

it would throw us all up in the air for a while, though,

sharing this earth with an antiquated boogie monster.

it would not bode well for science.

numbered thoughts:

1. wait i can't believe i have a blog still

2. i can't believe i have so many paper cuts on my hands. OW fuckin OW

3. obsessed with "i'm on a boat"...have watched it like 8 times in the past 24 hours

4. wow my screenplay sucks!

5. only on page 6

6. it's nice to lay on the floor and not worry about mice

7. woop there it is

8. so long marianne

9. some boy gimme ur jeanz i want em

10. that was dykey of me

11. chelsea hotel no2 > no1

12. whatever happened to my tattoo

13. luv

14. painfullyxpasse: youre a big nerd

15. fifteen by taylor swift... epitome of lame... listened to it twice today

nj: salvation from ny

I AM SO GLAD I AM NOT IN NY RIGHT NOW. too much at a time literally drives me insane, especially when it's violently cold out and i can barely gather the energy to walk from 14th to campus more than once a day. jack kerouac-- new york gets god awful cold in the winter, TRUE, but there is a wacky comeradship somewhere in the streetz, FALSE. so false i want to vomit. it actually makes people harder, which at first seems impossible, harder and more depressed. sux for you all who are there right now. i really do feel your pain, and i am sorry.. jersey pride 4e

sitting on the couch, just watched the end of pearl harbor, what a sad stupid GOOD movie. i didn't time anything on my commute back (i never do) so i missed the 6:35 by about three seconds and had to wait at hoboken until the 7:15. not a bad thing-- actually the highlight of my day. i love train stations. plus i bought the best cup of coffee i have had in a while. for a dollar, from a cool indian girl who complimented me on what she thought was my scarf but was actually my hair. i don't know how she confused the two but whatever. it was a nice compliment and i took it. i wasn't wearing a scarf, and the coffee was amazing. 

two weeks of (barely) functioning on idle mode caught up with me yesterday when 1) i got raped in the face with notices about study abroad deadlines and 2) the first form for housing lottery was e-mailed and i realized i have to think about where i'm living next year. how fun and burdensome and as if i don't already have 89 things on my mind. ty nyu, again, for being great. i don't think i can afford to spend an entire semester abroad, i don't have that kind of time if i want to double major/double degree... wait how am i already halfway done with college..??? let me just ignore that until later like i do with all of my problems. but yes. i'd just feel useless if i graduated from this grimy place with nothing but a BFA. sOoo looks like i'm doing a summer abroad instead of a semester! which works out i guess, but if i decide to go abroad this summer, i might have to postpone my ideal Bonnaroo-roadtrip plans until next year. fucking a. why can't i do exactly what i want all the goddamned time? why has everything got to be so meaaan? firenze, here i come, maybe in a few months or maybe next summer, ......maybe maybe baby baby. decision to come... somewhere in the vague future.

last night i got high and rewatched i'm not there and ate blue chips. that film is so good it makes me angry because i know 80% of the people who watched it had no clue what was going on because they have not taught themselves everything there is to know about the man involved. WHAT I THINK ... what i think is that everybody should know everything about bob dylan, he should be taught in high school. the world would be better and cleaner and prettier and people wouldn't suck as much. blah. my frivolous entry ends here.

oh yeah, and i'm sure you know the dire straits song romeo and juliet, but have you ever seen the cracked out video that supplements it? holy crap. prime 80's insanity attached to this link. click there, watch it, feel weird. nice aside, that song makes me cry with or without the video. right. now i'm going ta sleep in my nice full-sized beautiful faithful bed. and i will wake up and eat a bagel. na na na peace.

nada y pues nada y pues nadada da da dadadadadaadada

O, HEY, WUZZUP? i woke up twenty minutes ago with my right hand fast asleep, and it legitimately took me five minutes to revive it. it felt like a sad dead snake and i had to slap it like 80 times to resurrect any feeling in it. WORST THING EVER!!! i then stared at it for another five minutes thinking about how my life would be if i had to get it amputated. it took me five minutes to recognize that, as much as i tried to glorify it in my head, it would really suck, having one hand, chunooo? uh my mornings are especially slow. but if you want honesty, then that's a true ass account of how i spent the very beginning of my day.

speaking of dead snakes n hands n shit, how is bear grylls real? answer: he isn't! if you don't watch man vs. wild, you should. i am not eloquent enough right now to convince you that it is the best show in the entire world, but take my word anyway: it is. he should market his sheeping bag... i'm down. da next slanket, bb.

my room is disgusting me so much right now that i'm chillin' in the dark so i don't have to look at the mess. ahyep. for the outside-of-nyc world-- sorry i've been MIA. i forgot how busy life gets when classes start. i'm just doing this to kill time. i'm 100% aware of how you felt after reading this-- USELESS.  good. my job is done. gbye

there's this thing now thats drivin me wild

i gotta see what's up before it gets me down

k, SO: newark penn station at 3 in the morning ain't that cute.

neither are sixth grade literacy teachers with pubes on their face

or the late night PATH

but s'all good. 

http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2009/01/18/us/politics/inauguration-photos.html?hp

i dare you to look through these and not feel a single

thing. you can't doit.

it feels soo gooood to be BACK (and that was an eminem quote. just gettin the word out there)

yaO! so i'm back, semi-unpacked, chillin at carlyle like no big. i'm not even feeling the bars right now... but will in like an hour. call me lame but i am straight up enjoying being back and settled and sitting on my bed and BLOGGING and shit.  i'm nnnot so thankful that the coffee i spilled this morning onto my dining room table seeped through the left-hand electrical outlets on my macbook, but very thankful that it is still working. it's only had one spasm-- thus far. good boy! i guess that's a MEGGGGA red flag to back up my shit, but my computer won't recognize my external hard drive (soooOOper gay). i saved the importants (screenplay + play, both of which are due too soon) on dr.j's usb port (i can never find mine when i need it, COOL!!!...k done with the parenthesis) and will have to cross my heart that all the little documents...poems and music and shit like that... hold on tight til i either a) figure out what's doing with my hard drive or b) find my usb port, who knows what will come first. PLEASE MACKYBOOK DON'T DIE ON ME ... AGAIN...INEEDUUU...!!!!!

how is my slanket even more awesome at school? idk. that question was not for anybody to answer. except me. anyways, i am pointedly cutting down on the ganj smoking this semester. and i'm serious about it. i'm not a productive high person; i never was. i think a lot when i'm high, but that's about it... and then i write it down on a napkin or something and wake up the next morning and can't read my own handwriting-- uhh that was an overexaggeration/bad joke. but regardless, mark my words folks, cuz the times they are a-changin'!!! woooooooopppp

MMMMMMM. the beginning of the semester is my favorite part of the year. it's because i'm a die hard idealist and this is the absolute best time to be one-- when nothing's happened yet and there's nothing you could have possibly already fucked up and anything at all is possible, so you're just chillin'. CHILLIN. 4EV. K BYE.

(and it comes twice a year!!!!!!!)

crush my heart with a hammer/make a purer one/babyloonnnn...

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! so, currently jamming to transistor, and i don't give a shit what any of you say, i love 311. they are dirrtaYy and forever my favorite. take that radioheadheads.

**phish...ilu2

industry rule number 4,080: record company people r SHAAADY! (and omg this autosaves!)

one of my more important (and more private) new years resolutions was to stop hating on humanity. i'm sometimes embarrassed with myself at how low my expectations are w. the general public. it isn't a self-defense mechanism nor is it me trying to distinguish myself from the rest of the world. it's just that the little things people do... or the way they carry themselves or the things they say... generally disappoint me. idk. but it isn't really humanity i hate on i've come to learn... it's society, a vessel in which spewing hatred into is i guess a lot more realistic (and justified). so i'm not reeeaally a misanthrope... more like a plain old cynic. either way i'm trying to snap myself out of it and enjoy the beauty in crowds and trends. trying to find weird phenomenons fascinating instead of putrid..

but before i do that i'd just like to showcase my disgust for THE NEW PETA ADS. 

don't get me wrong. i hate PETA all the time. i'm not disappointed in them or anything like that, because i totally expect every single thing they do-- from that time they turned their website into a tasteless virtual flour-hurling video game that showcased the Olsen twins as mink-wearing zombies, to ACTUALLY advertising a PETA COFFIN that says on the lid in obnoxious capitals "TOLD YOU I WOULDN'T BE CAUGHT DEAD IN FUR!".... seeeeriouslyyyyy????!!!!). i get it, they're extremists, and i'm generally passive-aggressive. if that's what it takes to get their point across, fine. do what you want, vegan weirdos, i'm still eating sssicken while staring at your disgusting advert featuring the ugly Kardashian sister's naked airbrushed back. hi, at least that one made me never want to eat again. 

i'm not saying by any means that i hate animals either. i love animals. i recognize that they're smarter than us and they chill harder. especially doggies... which brings me to this:  is PETA really advocating the neutering of housepets? I'M ACTUALLY SHOCKED. dassa surprise to me. i figured they'd find any kind of dabbling with the manhood or womanhood of a living thing grotesque. but apparently not, because from this ad in can be inferred that PETA assumes that if your little Spottie isn't spayed, it will run rampant through the streets and impregnate all the strays it comes in contact with, resulting in a quick stint at the pound and a lot of dead puppies. which isn't necessarily true, but ok, they're on to something here. i give them credit for not being entirely insane. but hold on-- WHAT'S WITH THE ATTACK STANCE??? not surprised of course, but really, 'have the balls to fix your dog.' (and in spanish too, it would have been funnier in english..) it isn't at all ballsy to neuter your pet-- it'd be ballsy to NOT neuter your dog in order to protect its manhood and live with its incessant humping for the rest of its life. right??? wouldn't you expect peta to advertise the opposite??? this ad is like actually demeaning to normal people who have every intention of getting their cat/dog/wombat spayed or neutered. so see, i'm on the people's side with this one. PETA is just str8 up rude and condescending all the time, no matter what they do. which is why they annoy the hell out of me. the one time i semi-agree with one of their views i still feel insulted by their stupid In Ur faYcE ads. k, i'm done. ugh PETA go to hell. i will now move on and continue on my quest to love&embrace every aspect of the world.

(but i will give them 1 e-prop, cuz they use Mickey Rourke and i really want to see The Wrestler.)

gbyeeeee!!!

zomg wtf stidrill gots a blog lolz.

BLOGGER STIDRILL!!!!... i ain't no fan of blogging but i figured why not, to complement my new gmail account and all. yo, gmail actually is really cool, i regret boycotting it for the past three years. don't h8 on what you don't undastand.  i already keep a journal (damn straight i do, it's about the only consistent thing i've done ... in my entire life) but who knows if i'll have time to write in it come next tuesday (note: no. i won't. stidrill who are you kidding?!) so i figured if something's online i'll be more likely to update it.

did you hear that logic? me neither. horrendous. but we'll see.

going back to ny on friday. classes start the 20th, which will be a crazy day anyways because of inauguration. i already received like 5 e-mails from tisch letting me know that i can watch obama being sworn in on the 9th floor, in the lobby, on the roof, while swimming, and wherever i choose to do so there will be FREE SNAX & DRANX!!! this is what i mean when i say it must be difficult to be anything but a liberal at NYU. poor things. 'fun' was not listed on the mccain/palin ticket.

so YEH, decided to be proactive about this summer yesterday. e-mailed theatres in the seattle area to see about production internships... film companies in portland... and publishers/film companies in manhattan. i have this urgent need to abandon the east coast and chill in the northwest for a while so that's why i'm looking at seattle/portland. honestly either of the two are fine. of course my parents want manhattan, because it's close, and everything's here anyway so why would you want to go that far away? blah blah, BECAUSE I'M NEVER SATISFIED, that's why. i can't deal with new york all the time. especially in the summer when it's straight up GROSS. new york in the winter, autumn, springtime, fine: new york in the summer, just not in its element. i need somewhere greener. "IDC WHERE JUST FARRRRRRRRRR"

i haven't done much this break at all except journal and read... need to get some serious work done on my screenplay, and finalize my spring09 schedule soon... 

so this is where i make book recs/pretend i'm really literary even though i'm not: read vonnegut's Deadeye Dick. i don't know how i hadn't read it before but it's awesome, just like the rest of his shit--(i realized that i tend to read Vonnegut's shit like a mystery... i never find myself getting emotionally attached to his characters but still end up enjoying his books so much. it's the tone/diction that's phenomenal...plot second, characters third...) Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates, really really beautiful. it reads like a bestseller but it's actually quality writing-- plus the movie :). Disgrace by J.M. Coetzee-- good plot. and well-written. but that's it. i really don't have anything else to say about it. i wish i did though. uhhhhhhh- i'm currently reading The Mysteries of Pittsburgh, Michael Chabon's first novel (1988)-- and uh chabon's mad talented das all. this is the first book of his i'm reading though... can see what all the commotion was about. it has that same appeal that Catcher or On the Road had on young people... that whole "i'm young everything's brilliant nothing can stop me or my new and bombass opinions on lifeWEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!" but is, iMhO, much better crafted than both of them (which, i guess, doesn't take much.) anyways those are my half-assed (IF that) opinions on the books i've read over break. 

adam time. still on my cool list. wish us luck and shit. 

will update.....whenever

** OH WAIT!!! i forgot about Play it as it Lays!!! F everything else i said and read that. by joan didion. who is cooler than joyce carol oates because she's not as neurotic... and just as skinny. f-in' crazy.