The Watchmen

I feel really good right now. I'm reading The Watchmen, and I feel super cool. All I need to do now is sit at a coffee shop so people can SEE me reading The Watchmen. I'm thinking about writing my book review finally, at least for practice for when A King of Infinite Space comes out, so I can review that for Chiron, because that sounds really fun. I already know what I want to say. Anyway, I decided on another story I want to write, and that makes a million stories I want to write, so I'm good for inspiration. Now all I have to do is write them. Ha. I thought I had a lot to say for this blog, but I don't really. Ta!

All in the Timing

I love break more than ever. I'm reading SO much. I just read All in the Timing, a book of plays by David Ives, and I am now in love with David Ives. The house is empty except for cake and pizza, and I'm not complaining, just growing a nice new layer of fat to get me through the winter. Now that I'm done with All in the Timing, I'll have no choice but to start my nonfiction. I know exactly where to start, but I don't have the courage just yet to start there. It was around this time last year: winter 2007/2008. I can't be sure exactly when. Wish me luck. I'm really afraid, actually. And that just proves that I should write this. And to hell with what Cooper thinks about the structure of a story. I can write my life in my own way. And I just realized that it's probably good that I lost my phone. Because that asshole (not Cooper. Cooper is not an asshole) is no doubt calling it right now, wanting me to wish him a happy Christmas. No. No no no. My feet are numb, and I am shivering, and it's time to find some blankets.

the zombie years

I love break. I hardly ever drink, but I've had the equivalent of a day of binge drinking spread out over the course of this week, and I'm starting to feel it. I watched a bizarre Chek movie called "Little Otik" which I recommend to you all (especially the first half), and on Christa's suggestion I bought and finished Blankets, a coming-of-age graphic novel memoir. I've also been reading Dog Years, another memoir, and I've been starting mental notes for my own memoirs. It's almost unfortunate that I have so much to write about, but I'm starting to realize that maybe the only reason I'm a horrible person is because I have all this guilt and shame and pain that I need to just purge and be rid of. Ha, that's a great reason to write a memoir, right? I'm going to write it without any publishing aims, just my own need, and then we'll see what happens from there.

I have this expanding aching fragile heart lately, and I don't know what to do with it. I'm falling in love. I'm crying at sad songs. I'm thinking in bad poetry... It's the kind of feeling that usually leads to distruction. I've been reading a lot. I bought Flatland for my stepdad, and I can't stop reading it myself. I've been swimming in memories thinking of scenes for this memoir, and it's a little haunting, a little terrifying, like resurrecting the dead. And I'm afraid of zombies, I really am.

Underpants Day

More dreams. One of my dad's exgirlfriends trying to blow me up. That's it, though. Had the best party ever last night. Realized I love all my MFAers, and am happy to be in the program. It was like family. Got drunk and started talking all kinds of stupid shit. I told everyone I loved them, and by tomorrow I'm going to be known as the girl who's had other people's urine on her face twice. But really, how does that happen? I'm like a urine magnet. No pee incidents yesterday, though. Hurrah. Food was amazing. Got to page six on my paper. Had good conversations. ETC. Been procrastinating. Rewriting stories, which is productive but not the most important thing. Ech. Lost one of my sources. Boo. Sang some great kereoke with Katie Prow. And Omar sang a mean Roxanne. Gerri actually called me in from outside to witness it. Ugh, to work I got. Gotta go to work, work all day, it's an underpants day.

Your lips taste of poison

I love PJ Harvey. I'm listening to her like a mad woman. Pretending to outline and really wanting to write a story. I held my cat so close last night and all the way til morning, and we had this beautiful sleep together. (Real sleep!) He put his paw on my shoulder like a hug, and we slept face to face while he purred and I stroked his face. He's such a good cat. My mom says she's glad I like him, because no one else does. She's wrong. She's the only one who doesn't like him, actually. My brothers like him a lot. And my step dad talks to him like he's a friend. She doesn't like him becuase he has an anatomical problem, and he pees in little puddles on the floor. That's not his fault. I always feel really sad cleaning up after him, wondering how much pain he's in. My poor kitty. I had a dream where I was walking with him in a papous (sp?) held in front of me.

PJ Harvey, you're amazing. Run away with me, PJ Harvey.

Today I should work on my Paradise Lost paper. It's going to be harder than my 696 paper, I think. Maybe not. I have to do both of them. I'm supposed to go to an Amanda Palmer concert on Tuesday night, and it's just not going to happen. Amanda Palmer! I'd run away with you too!

This is my third day without antidepressants. I ran out, and I haven't been able to go turn in my new perscription. So. Not only am I going to be crying like a maniac all weekend, but I'm most likely going to be sick, because going off of antidepressants cold turkey gives you flu symptoms. I am so irresponsible. I'll try to get them today. I don't have a car right now... but when Omar gets here. I don't have caffeine either. So I'm slumped. Like those kids in the anti-pot commercials. Blech. It's noon, and my feet are asleep, and I am cold and unmotivated. Well, motivated by fear, I guess.

Potluck at Jason's tonight. Woot. I shouldn't go. But I will.

Dreams for Finals Week

I don't really want to write about how stressed I am or how depressed I am or my sleeping problems right now. So... I want to talk about my dreams. I've been told (by Mark Doty) that dreams are only interesting to the dreamer, but I am selfish and the main reader of my blog, so I'm doing it anyway.

The dream I had this morning was convoluted and didn't happen in a story structure, so I won't delve into it. I was a mermaid/human (like in Splash!) which is expected since I just wrote a mermaid story. There was this guy who was my prince, but I don't know much about him. There were twin baby boys that always needed to be held and cared for, and we were always either captured by or on the run from torturerers- a whole island of them, and they had an entire society I won't talk about. I also had a little girl, but she was screaming and screaming and always showing where we were. At the end I reached to her face and it broke inward, and there was all this machinary inside. In fact, the only reason I find this dream interesting is because it's another dream with family (like all the others) and it's a second dream where a female family member who shows up way later and ends up being a doll.

In the other dream that I had two nights ago, I was visiting my cousins. Their house was on this big pile of machinary (do you see how many parallels there are? crazy) and I had to climb it whenever I wanted to get inside. I forgot my toothbrush and wanted to buy one, but my cousin (who is in real life very aloof) wanted me to use his. And I didn't want to. I just wanted to buy my own. But he threw this really awful fit, and he kept following me everywhere making sure I wouldn't buy one, so I ended up using it, and I felt disgusted.

Come one, come all, and look at the crazy cat lady

I am so depressed and stressed and now also physically ill. I have a lot to do, but I don't even think it's that. I can't sleep. When I finally fall asleep I wake up again, and it's dark outside, and I'm alone and sad and too awake. I'm feeling really needy and dependent. "Mommy, tell me I'm smart. Tell me I'm doing good things. Tell me you like me living here." I've been feeling like every moment I'm separated from my cat is awful, and I spend a lot of time looking for him in my backyard. I even made him a toy yesterday, and he played with it a little bit, but he's in pain and can't play for long.

I think I'd be happy as a crazy cat lady. "Why am I at this job I hate? Oh yeah, to feed my cats." Just give me a hovel with some cats and let me live until I die taking caring of them. That's a good life, I think.

The Dream

I've been having a dream over the last two nights, and maybe writing and sharing will... I don't know- do something.

I am traveling to my grandmother's house, but she lives really far away, and I am travelling alone. My mother drops me off at the station, and I have two small bags with me, only enough to get by. It is like a train station, but the platform itself is a hole that is a tube running with water (think Raging Waters, Wild Rivers). I am clothed and dry and well made up. I am trendy, and that's unlike me. I look professional. I step into the platform/tube of water, and I am whooshed away. I am thinking about my mother's instructions. I will ride this for over an hour and then take a train and then take a bus to my grandmother's.

I exit the tube after a long time and wait for the train, and I am nervous because I am alone, and the faceless people offer no help to me. In fact, they don't really move. They are ensemble, tableaux. I take my train. I take my bus. And then I walk to my grandmother's house which is actually (meaning in waking life) my great grandmother's house, which is a two story wood cabin in the forest. I stay (in my dream) for two days as we wait for others to visit.

When it is time to leave, I know to take a shower. When I open it, the shower is on, and my aunt is in there. I say I'm sorry, but then I look again and she is only an inflatable doll. I push it aside and it becomes a kind of shower curtain. This time, I am not wearing clothes. A man comes in, who I know to be a relative. He says hello, but I tell him that I am just on my way home. Then the shower floor rounds and becomes the tube again. I am transported for over an hour to the train station, and when I exit, I find my bags and put on my clothes.

And that's the end so far. It's probably boring to other people. It makes a kind of sense to me, but I feel really awkward all through the dream, so I don't want to have it again. And maybe now I won't.

vagignments- a correction

I really liked the way vaginments worked, but everyone pronounces it wrong, and my co-conspirator Sean says it would be better as vagignments. I've never been one to say no to Sean before, ergo- vagignments. I had been debating between the two spellings anyway. This one looks like it might have a gig pronounced in the middle, but ah well. At least it's not pronounced like vita-meata-vaginments. Stupid English language.

Of course, now I've created a monster. You can google me by searching vaginments, and that's how my very-Christian uncle found my blog. I love you Uncle Mark! Shout out! I didn't mean for him to ever hear me say anything vaginally related, but he did think it was funny, and we had a nurture v. nature discussion seeing as we've only ever met like three times and yet, as he says, we have a similar sense of humor.

I am happy when people think I'm funny. The bad boyfriend I had thought I was terribly unhumorous, that the only funny things I did were stupid things that he could make fun of. But no, if you want me to like you, say I'm funny. I might no believe you, but I'll like you. Not cute. A poet I was talking to on facebook (never met) said "You're cute, but you look young." Thanks? No, actually. Very creepy. In real life you can think I'm cute. On facebook, stay away. Especially if you might be publishing my poem in your anthology. I'd rather be a good poet than a cute young girl. Ugh.

Anyway, I couldn't sleep last night, so I got a lot done. I finished the novel I was reading for my 696 paper, and I did both assignments *cough* sorry, vagignments that are due today. You could say I'm a superhero. You could say it. Of course, I'm tired today.

I hate my neighbors.

I hate my neighbors. I hate them. All of them. One of them is a sex offender who sits outside with his big dogs (not on leashes) and watches people walk by. Another one got his house from his parents and is always getting raided. Sometimes they shut down the whole street because his dumbass house is getting raided. There are always other people living there, and sometimes they're the one's being arrested, but not always. There are sometimes children there, but we don't know what happens to them there, and they are always taken by child protective services if they're there for too long. One girl that was there was fourteen and friends with one of my younger male relatives who was twelve at the time. And he didn't participate, but he watched her have sex with all the boys in the neighborhood (well three or four) at once. And they were eleven to thirteen. I've had my house surrounded by preteen boys on bikes, and I always had to call the cops on them, because I couldn't go outside. My brother at one point was friends with one of those boys, and he pushed me up against the wall. And I was seventeen and couldn't do anything about it. What was I supposed to do, push him? Luckily, those boys are all gone too. But where? I almost feel sad thinking about them. But they are not the point of this blog, nor are the stupid dogs that bark whenever I go into my house or the way my step dad's cat was found mutilated and spread across a neighbor's lawn.

What this is really about is parking. I am not allowed to park in the driveway, because it really pisses off my parents (yes, I live with my parents) to have to park on the street. So I park on the street. There is one spot in front of my house. Lately, it has been taken every time. So I've been parking across the street. When I got home last night, my step dad said I should move it soon because the neighbor came over and said his sons were living with him again, and they need that parking space. These are the same sons that stare at me whenever I get into my car. But anyway, fine. The first thing I did when I woke up this morning was get up to move my car. I'm a good neighbor. I have no problem moving my car (even though the street and the curb are public property, and I should be able to park where ever I want, and people have been having no problem parking in my only spot, but whatever). So I go out to move my car, and there's a note on the windshield. That's to be expected. But I open it and it says "Please don't park here ever again!" That part was underlined, not bold, but what pricks. Did they not see that my space was also filled with someone else's car? Would they prefer me to park farther away and walk in the middle of the night to my house? Woudn't the asshole sons be better suited for that? And it's not even about that as much as it is a public street, and whoever gets there first should be able to park there. And whenever his sons' friends are over, they park in my space and then talk really loudly NEXT to the car. Or drink or whatever they do. Assholes.

And now I have written this long-ass blog instead of doing my vaginments, and I have two big ones due tomorrow. Not to mention, I need medical attention, and no one is here. The surgery happened in July, you should be healed by now. But I'm not. And I need help, because I can't do it on my own. Omar is coming. But I'm asking him to miss an event he was looking forward to, and now I feel bad.

Whoa, I might be anthologized!

It turns out that I misunderstood an e-mail from an editor. I was invited to submit a poem for an anthology of poet responses to the election. I wrote up a poem about prop 8 and sent it, and I'm in the running! Both publishers like it, and they're holding on to it for consideration. At this point, it all depends on how many poems the publisher decides on and whether or not mine is chosen within that space. I rock.

Oh Alicia, with your vaginments

I do not like assignments. No thank you. They stink. I prefer vaginments (pronounced like vigina, with the long i). This was a system I worked out with my best friend at the time Sean back in my senior year of high school. I was taking six AP classes, and I'm pretty sure I came (get it?) up with the term when the time was coming for the barrage of AP exams. Yes, I have had an eight-hour day of tests in the middle of a week of test taking. Hehe, testes taking. See where the high school comes in? Get it, comes in? Alright, enough of that.

The point is, I got so fed up with assignments that I had to create something new- vaginments. Vaginments are a lot like assignments, only they're a lot more fun, and you look forward to doing them. You give them all the time they need to reach fruition, and you don't get frustrated. You just let whatever will be, be. And become. This is actually how I've written some of my favorite stories and some of my favorite papers and projects. It's more right brain, it's more artsy. It's feminine, and it's evolved. People tend to rush assignments, but with vaginments, it's all about taking your time and enjoying the process.

So today I was facing a lot of assignments. And I was panicking and hyperventilating and debating dropping out of school. I mean, Omar's moving to Lebanon for a year. Not like that has anything to do with it, but I could... do something here. I could go be homeless and become a franciscan monk. I could be a zen master. I could give up all my worldly goods and walk the earth bare foot. I could do it. But then maybe I can just bring zen back into school. Maybe I can be okay with Bs, and maybe I can take things slow, count my breaths, be awake. Maybe I can embrace my inner feminine and do my vaginments with pride. Become one with my ideas. Believe in them. For once.

In zazen (meditation), you are sitting at a train station, and trains of thought are zooming past. If you board a train, you'll be way off course. You'll be lost, and you'll have to find your way back. But in the station you can watch the trains go past. You can acknowledge them and then let them go. So these fears, these anxieties, these feelings of failure and hopelessness and anger that have been plaguing my dreams- they don't have to consume me. I can let them pass. And maybe these vaginments won't be works of art. Maybe they won't get As. But maybe I'll discover something important while doing them. And maybe just doing them is enough.

Hey Alicia, what happened to "The Orange Tree"?

Oh, "The Orange Tree"? Yeah, that got published. Published in Waterways. Woot! I submitted to Waterways because a poet I like named Matt Dennison sent his poems there. I also saw Paul Tayyar's name on one of the issues, so I am superpsyched! Waterways: Poetry in the Mainstream. My poetry's in the mainstream!

Wilderness

Again, please respond. See how you didn't for the last one? Here's your chance.

Wilderness
By Alicia Adams

Off an old dirt road that snakes
Through grass and trees
Lies an abandoned tractor
Covered in blossoms and vines.

Every year I come to visit, stepping
Through grass and metal bolts and screws,
Pulled away by weeds. Every year I take
A picture and flip through all my photos
Watching the vines grow at super speed,
Wrapping leaves and stems around
The rusted steel of the engine and open doors,
Pulling the tractor deeper into the earth.

Some nights I lie in bed and imagine
That I am in the woods instead, sprawled
Out beside the tractor, vines weaving through
My fingers and around my legs, holding me
Still as they cover me and pull me down,
Back into the earth and grass, back
Into the dark and loving arms
Of the forest.

Toc Fetch etc.- an update

Well, to catch up, the anniversary was good. We had a rough start at midnight (great, right?), but after sleeping and getting back together in the afternoon, everything was much better.

Role Models- a good movie. You wouldn't think so, but it was really funny. I was laughing most of the way through the movie. And it didn't rely on my-balls-are-stuck-in-my-zipper humor, which was nice. Also, while I'm at it,

Repo! Genetic Opera- Go see it. Go see it now.

Then there was the protest which was more of an assembly (boo!). It was really boring, and there were a lot of condescending people explaining what peace was and telling us to love everyone and to be nice to the cops, and it was awful. No thank you. I'd rather be angry, and I should be, thank you. Prop 8 = bad.

Then to Professor Peter Markman's house (which is amazing, it might as well have been a gallery itself). Then to the Obsolete Gallery which was showing the work of Harris Diamant. Go. If you haven't been to Obsolete in Venice, then you need to go. We met Diamant and Markman bought us books for him to sign. If you want to see his work, just ask me. It's amazing. It's 3D art made with metal and... glass, I don't know. A lot of found art. All made to make faces. But pieced together abstract faces. Yeah, it was pretty amazing. And the gallery itself is ridiculous. And there was free wine, and we all got a little... smashed.

Next, dinner at Chaya across the street. Super expensive and delicious. (Markman paid, woot!) Then back to the house to look at art and videos and art and art and art. And to be introduced to Toc Fetch. Go find Toc Fetch. He's pretty fucking amazing. The thing about blogging on art is that I have to show it to you. Come see. I have all the comics now. We had quite the benefactor.

I expected this to be a much better blog than it ended up being. I guess euphoria doesn't translate well.

Oh, and we're creating a chap book for Omar- "Sudden Fables." It's coming together really easily. We picked out the stories and pictures we want, and we found someone to help us print for practically free. Not quite free, though, so we'll be selling them for a dollar. Ha. The point in that is mostly to be able to write to publishing companies later and say something along the lines of "I [Omar] have sold 500 copies of my chapbook, 'Sudden Fables'" to show that there is a market for what he does, seeing as that might be called into question. And Toc Fetch is a perfect example of that. Anyway, we start printing on Wednesday, and we're pretty fucking excited to say the least. We are in good spirits (happily, finally), and things are going well.

The last thing is that I don't know what to write my Theory paper on. I have ideas, but I don't know how good or feasible they are. Ah well.

Why I'm awesome

Not to brag or anything. Just the truth. I am awesome. Through no doing of my own, Vulcan may become a press! =) And- an online journal. So send your stuff, yes yes. It will probably take us months to get back to you. We are overflowing with submissions. I feel like a cool cat, you see.

Anyway, I'm also a super awesome activist. I have made shirts if anyone would like to borrow one and march with me on Saturday. Long Beach City Hall is on Pine on Broadway, but you should probably get to it by way of Ocean.

Friday is my one year with Omar, Saturday is protest + dinner and gallery with THE Peter Markman (oh flay my God, young Aztec), and Sunday is an afternoon with my dad, who is becomming my favorite person of all time.

I have become Omar's manager, and in the process I am submitting both for him and for myself. I am looking into volunteering for the women's shelter, the orphanage, or juvenile hall. But most of all I need a job. Have you a job? A job??? I need one, please.

Tyler- if you want to read my stories, I'd be pleased to send them to you. =) smiley face.

The Thing

Omar and I watched The Thing on Chiller last night, and I have to say- that's a good horror movie. It's not contrived like so many horror movies being made today, and it doesn't have a surprise twist (like The Others for example) that makes the movie unfun to watch a second or millionth time. It deals with real fears, and it has some great scenes. Anyway, I want to watch a million more horror movies in October, so if you know of any must sees, let me know. Oh, and come to my reading on the 26th. I've made me decision to read the Adams Family story.

Update

So I'm officially an MFA student. And I love it! I'm only taking three classes so that I can really focus on them, and I love them all. I was recently made co-editor of Vulcan magazine and reader for RipRap. I'm applying for jobs and volunteer work, and I'm freaking out about my writing. What I really need to do is just sit down and write. I've had a lecture from a couple of professors warning me to concentrate more on writing than on literature. Of course, I'm totally in to my lit classes, so I'm just going to work really hard on all three. Here are some event updates for your enjoyment. Hope to see you there!

Thursday 9/11/08 (tomorrow)- Welcome Week. I'm be at the F.O.R.C.E. table answering questions, signing autographs, you know. Come visit.

Saturday 9/13/08- Gerry Locklin etc. reading from 7-10pm 235 Hill St. Santa Monica

Thursday 9/18/08- faculty reading in the ballrooms at 7

Wednesday 9/24/08- Fried and Mohr reading at Casa Romantica. casaromantica.org. I haven't seen Fried read in a while, and I hear it's a nice place.

Friday 9/26/08- The most important one- I'LL BE READING!!!! Come see the MFA kids read at It's a Grind 2010 Carson from 7 to 11. I expect to see you all there.

Saturday and Sunday 9/28-29/08 Studio Benefit Readng- ask me for details on this one. I don't know if I really want to go, it's more about poetry, and really weird guy invited me. I'm not too eager to meet him.

And that's it for September! I'll update you with October things when the time comes. Remember to come to my reading. No, no, I'll remind you. I'm really excited. =)

Carpooling, sex positive week

Carpooling is amazing, and you should always do it. Today I got to park in the carpool spots by giving a freshman a lift from the back of lot 14.

Also, I finally wrote out the first two paragraphs of my story. Which is a lot for me. Kind of sad. I don't think I'll ever be prolific. The story's sad too. And melodramatic. As usual. Someone will like it.

Classes are good, but hard, and I'll probably tell you what I'm learning here on this blog! Joy for you! You are joyous! If you want to be cool you'll go to sex positive week. This blog is scattered and sub par.

Free Bussing for CSULB!

http://www.presstelegram.com/news/ci_103%2003090

I am going to ride the bus for free from Labor Day until September 30th. We've been needing a program like this for years, and I will be the first to promote it and to benefit from it myself as often as possible. Go ride the bus! The more people who ride, the more likely they are to fund a program like this in the future!