6/3/13

I am officially done with my WISE project! I just need to refine my power point, put my journal entries onto a word document, and rehearse my presentation. 

Wow.

This feels so strange. I can’t believe I won’t be working on it anymore. But, of course, I’ll always be working on my writing, and photography, and I’ll always be exploring these various mediums of storytelling. So, I guess this WISE Project has just been one phase in this very long exploration, and I have now completed that phase (god, that was clichéd). 

Liz sent an email to my mom in which she called me a “young Joyce Carol Oates,” which is cool, and she sent me one in which she said that I should go to University of Iowa and get an MFA in fiction (also incredibly flattering). So, yes, I’m very happy about that. 

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I wish I wrote this.

sdjalinger:

oxygen (65%) and carbon (18%) and hydrogen (10%) and nitrogen (3%) and calcium (1.5%) and phosphorus (1.2%) and potassium (.2%) and sulfur (.2%) and chlorine (.2%) and sodium (.1%) and magnesium (.05%) and iron and colbalt and copper and zinc and iodine (all less than .05%) and selenium and fluorine (less than .01%)
poor baby selenium
poor baby fluorine
i’m selenium i’m fluorine
my goal is to memorize these names and numbers and recite them to anybody who will listen 
or to people who will ignore me
probably to people who will ignore me
i’ll stand atop sidewalks
what is the composition of concrete?
“poured concrete ribbon” that sounds so beautiful that sounds just like a poem that i never wrote
i want to memorize the compositions of things 

Oh, and I’ve basically finalized my playlist! 

Goal before presentation: explore the presence of trees in my project; they do seem to be incredibly prevalent in all of my stories/poems, and I’m not yet sure why. Could it be because of the songs that I’m listening to, or something more personal than that?

I know that trees have always had a calming effect on me — when I was younger, in order to get me to stop crying during long road trips, my dad would hold me in front of a weeping willow tree. 

Katharine’s Story

Speech (Reading From Notes on a Hand at a Funeral)

 

I remember one night when she decided that we should compare the colors of our skin — the skin that dressed our wrists. She loved skin and she loved wrists, and hands, and arms. But mostly wrists. Our wrists were translucent. We were in the woods Tree branches were slicing the moon. And they were slicing our wrists. Or it looked like they were. Maybe because our wrists looked like moons themselves. Like miniature moonchildren.

            If I close my eyes now, I can pretend to be back in the woods. I can pretend that it is nighttime. Our feet were bare at the time, and I could feel worms wriggling about my toes, so I can pretend that there are worms tickling the soles of my feet now, too.

She wanted to bring a worm home, but I told her that that would be a bad idea. So she said that we should run away instead, but I nixed that idea, too. She always had so many ridiculous ideas. And she was an incessant talker, too. With me, anyways. She was quiet in school, and I’m pretty sure she was quiet with her parents, but she wasn’t quiet around me. Which is funny, because I was quiet around her (not that I wanted to be, I just didn’t have any choice), and I wasn’t quiet in school or with my parents. 

That probably says a lot about her. Or maybe it doesn’t. I’m not exactly sure. I guess my point is that…she…was a really great person. And it seems to be that not enough people know much about her, and never really did, and I just think that that’s incredibly unfortunate.

Thank you.

 

*

 

Songs: “Skin Is, My,” Andrew Bird; “If The Brakeman Turns My Way,” Bright Eyes; “All In White,” The Vaccines

today has been a pretty crappy day for a few reasons, but on the bright side, I’m now done with Katharine’s story! Which means I’m basically done with my WISE project! 

I can’t believe I’m almost done with this, ahhh.

I’ve just been thinking about it for such a long time, and now I’m actually…almost…done.

So, I need to make sure that Ms. Eurell is okay with me using her classroom. And I need to bring speakers and iPod on the day of my presentation.

I’ve decided to use mypublisher instead — that way, it will come after two business days once I’ve ordered it.

Now all I have to do is write Katharine’s poem/story!!!

the earliest it would get here by is June 5th, which is also the latest date on which I can present

cool!!!!

okay I changed the layout and this one costs $30 

cool

Wow good thing ordering the book costs approximately 53 friggin’ dollars jesus

Ahh, so close to being done with this project! And the book is looking good, too!

Self-portrait poem

Michigan Trees

I will never forgive my mother for making me something

other than a tree, or a highway. For not painting in bark,

or in roads, in two yellow lines that grab hold of your hands.

 -

The forest is still in the back of my house, shivering. I’ll give it my sweater,

and hide, and wait, curled into a question mark, buried underneath

scraps of pine-needle-d ground.

 -

I want my hands to break, I think. Because

 -

it’s so cold. There’s so much static in the woods.

 -

More than enough to cover me.

 -

When I was younger, my mother made me keep my

crumbled teeth in a bucket, because she didn’t want me

to forget my mistakes. The teeth are on my nightstand.

They make the smallest, snow-covered forest I’ve ever seen.

*

Songs: “Deep Blue Sea (Daniel Rossen home recording),” Grizzly Bear; “New Slang,” The Shins; “Winter Trees,” The Staves