Friday, November 24, 2006

sad bikes

i left my rock hopper locked to the for sale house next door. locked up with my gym lock. it is so no there. i bet it will be fixed up and for sale at the bike store next door.

all right then

i was trying to capture how damn happy i was to be in san francisco yesterday. and i didn't even eat a burrito.

now that i'm having the slightly disturbing feeling that someone other than me (and occasionally the two people who know i write it as a writing exercise) might be able to find this, somewhere underneath the twenty pages of Anne O'Neil the basketball player on Google, perhaps I should write about something other than YA Lit.

but really, what else do i have to talk about? the spookyness of interior decoration? the absurdity of san jose drivers? my obsession with veronica mars? why i love gmail talk? these are banal normal things, not nearly meriting a blog of the genius nature of my critical essays on the princess diaries.

oh wow. my airport book last week? that i picked up because i, of course, after making it to both jeff and scott's birthday parties, missed my 6 am flight and was stuck at GH expensive bookstore or whatever that place in the airport is for four hours, and bought a meg cabot book. didn't keep me awake on the plane or anything, but apparently i am not the only one inspired by the britney (innocent virgin) + justin timberlake = breakup followed by justin timberlake touring with white trash christina aguilera. though my story was about a pop star meeting a new york comic on jay leno, and the tabloids and the jay leno breaking them up, it was the same bit, also peppered with bad song lyrics. do you think someone (scott, fess up. you've been selling my genius stories to the mass market) gave meg cabot Night Time with Bob?

Thursday, November 16, 2006


so i've been reading endless teenager live journal entries. what the hell does "woot"? mean? is it just a long drawn out "what?" no idea.

teenagers really do think about tests a lot more than they think about boys. i guess if i think about it, that's true. i can't even remember what boys i thought about when i was a teenager. i remember i had a crush on a swimmer named brad, whose last name i can't remember, only that tracy (shit, i forgot her last name, too. and we were buddies, on academic decathalon together. she was going to market my clothing. she was a mimi type.) had a crush on him, too. and i thought about james all the time, but in weird fantasy mode.

i do remember having totally lame note passing conversations about deciding who i liked. but crushes were much easier then, and i was much more impressed by cute than i am now. but maybe i was just as unimpressed. i was in san jose, for god's sake. anyway, i can't remember what i thought about all the time.

anyway, listeing to wowie zowie the rerelease. it's calming, but i still haven't rewritten all i lost last night, not to mention, conquering finishing the book.