She's so Wonderful

I kind of feel like I've been hitting a wall lately, or a lot of walls, and a lot of mud on those walls.

I've got to thinking about my little flirtation with Creative Writing and the classes that UMass offers and realized my enchantment may be over. After a poetry reading tonight I began ruminating and I don't think I'm cut out for that world. I love words and I love writing for myself, but I don't think I'm near brave or talented enough to ever take on a public writing agenda seriously. I can't even decide whether I'm made out for fiction or poetry. Last semester I was in a poetry class and this semester I switched to fiction, and I feel like I hated both. I'm feeling like all this talk of diagloue, narrative grip, plot outlines, and exposition make me want to tear my hair out and write a poem. Writing poems makes me want to drown myself in syrup, begging for some kind of structure outside of airy word fluff. So there we have it. A part of me says, "Just finish your certificate, you only have one class left". Another says, "It doesn't really matter at all." An even greater part says, "You're no good and you're not even good enough to be caught up in other people's good, Drop it and move on to classes with more structure and less creative demand." I don't like writing stories or poems; I just like huge hunks of text that convey...something. I am going to drink up some MFA students work tomorrow and try to give some serious thought to all of this stuff. I don't think my thesis will be taking as daring a route as I once thought. There it is I guess. Then we came to the end.

That Sleepy Feeling

I'm back from New York City. I'm playing it very low-key and hopefully getting some reading and other things done. Carly and I wrote out a list of accomplishments we wish to make. So far we have only done two on the list, or maybe three. These are:
-Go to Lone Wolf
-Learn the Charleston (We filmed ourselves doing it on our porch)
-Sing Animal Collective

We have yet to:
-Go to the Moan and Dove (we looked it up and it's beer-only so we might not)
-Film a video about my body for Carly's class (we can't do this until the weekend)
-Complete all homework
-I've forgotten the rest

I'm 21 and have purchased alcohol three times and have not been carded. Thoroughly anticlimactic.
Here are some photos from my trip.



We went to Moutarde, the lovely French place Terri Lee works at. I went pee and she left this Katie-specific bouquet at my table.



I did this with my hair. It looked fancy and then it fell down after brunch.



This is me at 21, taken by Carly, in Sarah's room.



Terri Lee, Sarah, Carly, and I went out to a Cafe in Brooklyn called Blackbird Cafe. Paul Mccartney was watching over me. I took a picture of this, officially my birthday on the subway.



This is Strawberry Fields. A lot of John Lennon loving hippies around. It's not that impressive.



I really like this picture. This was somewhere in our three hour walk in Central Park.



We walked across the Brooklyn Bridge.





Sarah and I found a tub on the street. She reinacted tubgirl.



Fin.

Jellytoes

I finished my school work for the week and besides one morning class, break is calling me. I hope the next days are relaxing.

Carly gave me a drawing today. One looks exactly like me reading waiting for hot cocoa:


I looked at another boy in the drawing and said to myself "Hey that looks like a kid from my writing class!" I was delighted when I found a picture of him online.





Ian finally rocked my world and I'm getting my t-shirt by the end of the month.

Things are okay here. I've been doing a lot of dancing. A lot a lot. Too much going on up there in that peanut brain.