by club, i mean nightclub.
they're all the same really. there are too many people, and with no room to barely walk, being so suffocatingly close to everyone else is entirely impersonal.
women dress as provocatively as possible in hopes of attracting male attention, in turn having $12 drinks purchased for them. men buy drinks for women to secure conversation, their hope being a domino effect will ensue, and the product of their endeavors being a fun-filled night of drunken sex (& it's likely that both parties will barely remember).
the music is generally Billboard's most recent top 10, playing gold-chained rappers that love "poppin' bottles". dancing to this music, in a club, is nothing more than sweaty gyration as a means of mutual masturbation.
clubs are meat-markets, and the whole experience is oversexed.
give me a dive bar any day.
12.28.2008
12.25.2008
what is the world coming to?
i just found out that my dog, Bud, who lives with my parents, has contracted an STD from the neighborhood lady pitbull. apparently Bud runs away sometimes and ends up in this lady pitbull's backyard, in the hot tub, awaiting sweet love.
what is your average domestic pet to do? they don't make animal condoms! not only does my poor Duddy Buddy have a disease, but also a broken heart. his lover bitch (in an entirely literal sense) has been around the block a few times. me oh my.
on another note, apparently my baby cousin Samantha's middle name is Harley Davidson. no jokes here. Samantha Harley Davidson Holly. this epitomizes my family in more ways than one.
ya dig?
what is your average domestic pet to do? they don't make animal condoms! not only does my poor Duddy Buddy have a disease, but also a broken heart. his lover bitch (in an entirely literal sense) has been around the block a few times. me oh my.
on another note, apparently my baby cousin Samantha's middle name is Harley Davidson. no jokes here. Samantha Harley Davidson Holly. this epitomizes my family in more ways than one.
ya dig?
12.18.2008
grossmont hospital.
as of recent i have been pretty sick. in addition to some strange flu that made my head feel like a ripe watermelon, ready to be cut open and devoured, i also have this strange ear ailment.
for the past four or so days, i've left my apartment four times at most. thank god i had christina to take care of me. i went to the emergency room on tuesday night, at a hospital which i was under the impression to be a community hospital. i thought the term community meant lowered prices for all of us folks without health insurance. WRONG. on all accounts.
first of all, these people don't even ask for identification to verify that i'm really chelsie rose kern. second, they don't forewarn you that your five minute visit with the ER doc is going to put you out 1000 dollars. fucking sweet.
when it rains it pours, and this brain of mine is like a locomotive train that still runs on coal. feverishly documenting the days, but polluting everything with it's blackened clouds of thought. sick brain. sick body.
but christina was phenomenal, and took care of me.
for that i am very, very thankful.
for the past four or so days, i've left my apartment four times at most. thank god i had christina to take care of me. i went to the emergency room on tuesday night, at a hospital which i was under the impression to be a community hospital. i thought the term community meant lowered prices for all of us folks without health insurance. WRONG. on all accounts.
first of all, these people don't even ask for identification to verify that i'm really chelsie rose kern. second, they don't forewarn you that your five minute visit with the ER doc is going to put you out 1000 dollars. fucking sweet.
when it rains it pours, and this brain of mine is like a locomotive train that still runs on coal. feverishly documenting the days, but polluting everything with it's blackened clouds of thought. sick brain. sick body.
but christina was phenomenal, and took care of me.
for that i am very, very thankful.
12.11.2008
word.
sticks and stones are hard on bones.
aimed with angry art,
words can sting like anything,
but silence breaks the heart.
actions speak louder than words.
for every cloud there is a silver lining.
you don't know what you've got till it's gone.
blah blah blah.
go cliches. kill it everytime with truth. i'm trying to take every cliche i find and re-write it in unique terms. so if you have any others please e-mail to me at jaoredior@aol.com
LATE.
aimed with angry art,
words can sting like anything,
but silence breaks the heart.
actions speak louder than words.
for every cloud there is a silver lining.
you don't know what you've got till it's gone.
blah blah blah.
go cliches. kill it everytime with truth. i'm trying to take every cliche i find and re-write it in unique terms. so if you have any others please e-mail to me at jaoredior@aol.com
LATE.
12.04.2008
a year to live.
i was talking to my lovely friend, freuline hauser, last night. in talking to her she brought to my attention an epiphany she had while sitting on top of the parking garage that overlooks citicenter in reno. she is going to live this coming year as if it were her last. the concept being if you only had one year to live, what would you do? it isn't morbid at all. in fact, it's entirely uplifting.
a year to live coincides with the nicholson and freeman's the bucket list, nonetheless, i'm gonna do it as well. starting today! i have compiled a short list of things that i must do withing the next 364 days because on the 365th i am going to die. not literally, but whatever. you get it.
here is my list:
1. fill up one notebook per MONTH. complete with sketches, poetry, observations. twelve pieces of me. record everything.
2. write a novel in the format which i have already kindof begun in the vignette format. dedicate it to my mother.
3. take an all american roadtrip following the likes of kerouac.
4. see doomtree in concert. preferably in minnaepolis.
5. love everyone as passionately as i possibly can. love them with kindness even when it may not be deserved, because life should be spent giving what you in turn wish to recieve.
6. have a conversation with a stranger a day.
7. learn as much as i can from my professors. education for the sake of knowledge, baby.
8. learn spanish.
9. celebrate my birthday at burning man.
i have some other things, but it's a secret.
as the first day of my last year to live i'm going to call my mom, and tell her just how much i love her. i'm also going to dance around my apartment to a little elvis presley. LOVE YOU bright sunshiney people.
a year to live coincides with the nicholson and freeman's the bucket list, nonetheless, i'm gonna do it as well. starting today! i have compiled a short list of things that i must do withing the next 364 days because on the 365th i am going to die. not literally, but whatever. you get it.
here is my list:
1. fill up one notebook per MONTH. complete with sketches, poetry, observations. twelve pieces of me. record everything.
2. write a novel in the format which i have already kindof begun in the vignette format. dedicate it to my mother.
3. take an all american roadtrip following the likes of kerouac.
4. see doomtree in concert. preferably in minnaepolis.
5. love everyone as passionately as i possibly can. love them with kindness even when it may not be deserved, because life should be spent giving what you in turn wish to recieve.
6. have a conversation with a stranger a day.
7. learn as much as i can from my professors. education for the sake of knowledge, baby.
8. learn spanish.
9. celebrate my birthday at burning man.
i have some other things, but it's a secret.
as the first day of my last year to live i'm going to call my mom, and tell her just how much i love her. i'm also going to dance around my apartment to a little elvis presley. LOVE YOU bright sunshiney people.
12.03.2008
12.02.2008
Aphrodite.
Aphrodite was a goddess. Foxy lady. Ruler of men. Stories say anyone that saw her became drunk with her good looks.
My name is Aphrodite too, but my smile is crooked like politics. I am not a pretty girl.
My mother is beautiful. Her hair is champagne, and she laughs bubbly. Sometimes, when we’re walking to the corner store, men whistle to tell her just how impressive she is.
She had big plans to wrap me in pretty pink dresses with lace and daffodil yellow ribbons and bows. But my legs are unladylike. They are like chipped Fine China. Useless porcelain. The kind you don’t want your guests to see. Mother says no boy will ever love a girl with scars like that. She makes me wear my brother’s old jeans, always two inches too long, so no one can see my bruises.
I wish I had a simple name like Katy or Susan or Ashley.
I cannot live up to these expectations, and I hate to disappoint.
My name is Aphrodite too, but my smile is crooked like politics. I am not a pretty girl.
My mother is beautiful. Her hair is champagne, and she laughs bubbly. Sometimes, when we’re walking to the corner store, men whistle to tell her just how impressive she is.
She had big plans to wrap me in pretty pink dresses with lace and daffodil yellow ribbons and bows. But my legs are unladylike. They are like chipped Fine China. Useless porcelain. The kind you don’t want your guests to see. Mother says no boy will ever love a girl with scars like that. She makes me wear my brother’s old jeans, always two inches too long, so no one can see my bruises.
I wish I had a simple name like Katy or Susan or Ashley.
I cannot live up to these expectations, and I hate to disappoint.
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