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[04 Jan 2008|03:39am] |
I'm getting more comfortable with the idea of maybe having to come back here and work for awhile while I get all my shit straightened out. I can move in with my uncle, and have a free place to live in a good location, and I like Houston and all, but damn, I've been planning my move to New York for months and I thought I had all the details worked out, but win some, lose some, I suppose. It's a setback, to be sure.
Thing is, now that I've been away for nearly three years, I don't know anyone. I'm as helpless as a newborn kitten, especially since I never learned to drive. I don't know how I'll swing living around here without a car.
I don't want to be the college dropout that came crawling home after completely burning out. That's not what happened. I didn't get fired from my life; I quit. Perhaps preemptively. When I decided to drop out of Hampshire, I assumed that everything would work out with, you know, sending my transcripts, applications elsewhere, etc. I didn't consider that Hampshire maybe wouldn't bother sending my shit (after having harrassed them about it more than once) and I'd be left high and dry with my all woefully incomplete stupid applications, unless there's some kind of crazy miracle and I get in somewhere else three weeks before the semester starts. Unlikely.
Because I didn't think of that as a possibility, I also did not consider being cut off by my parents for the duration of my absence from school. They were going to help me financially while I set myself up elsewhere until I found a job and got settled in and whatnot.
Oh well. I just don't want to be hot all the time.
I went to Abilene for New Year's. Went to an HSU party. It was shockingly fun. If I can have a good time in Abilene, I can have a good time anywhere. I shouldn't think of this as indication of real personal failure of any kind, it's just, I don't know, another learning experience or some inspirational shit.
I know that Joel will give me a good amount of personal space and will put up with my shenanigans (to an extent... to what extent, I'm not sure). God, though, I don't want to go back to not being on my own.
Ahhhhhhh no, Allison, it's not a bad thing. Learning experience. Opportunity. New friends and life. ...
I'm stupid tired.
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[31 Dec 2007|07:43am] |
Lordy, I hate drug dealers. I've been stressing out about the e for New Year's all week and she keeps telling me tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow and now it's too late.
I mean, be real, do you want to make money?
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[12 Dec 2007|09:12pm] |
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I'm still in the post-acid super-vivid dreams stage. I mean, generally, I have vivid dreams, but tripping ups the ante. I had the one where a rich man captures me and forces me to create the perfect cake for his daughter again. The entire cast of Degrassi: The Next Generation is there for some reason, and when I fail at making a cake (shaped like a dragon) that's good enough for the girl I get thrown into a pit with Spinner to be eaten by rats.
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[06 Dec 2007|01:30am] |
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I talked to Blaine. It was nice. Highlight of the day, probably. I've been stuck on 'angry emo' mode for the past few, and I hope it ends right quick.
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[04 Dec 2007|09:29pm] |
So I met this boy in the bus shelter the other day.
We were the only ones at the stop. He asked if I had a lighter, and I did. I asked if he'd let me roll a cigarette, and he did. Then we struck up a conversation. It didn't feel like awkward small talk, it was nice and natural. He was reasonably cute. Not one I'd pick out of a crowd as 'my type' (whatever that is), but he was good-looking. He is a grad student doing work in philosophy. I was surprised; he had seemed nice, not that people in philosophy can't be nice, but, you know, there's a higher percentage of douches there than in most other areas of concentration. A bus pulled up, and I was like, "Aw, fuck, it's not mine."
He said, "Not mine either. That's okay, though, this is a nice conversation."
It so was. He even managed to quote Zizek without sounding pretentious, self-impressed or asshole-ish. That's kind of hard to do. He was like the anti-Ben (god, I hate that kid), name-dropping all these people and concepts, but not in an affected way, just like he was warm, excited, genuinely stoked about all the things he was learning. I told him I was embarrassed a couple years ago when I finally learned it's pronounced "jhee-jheck" and not "zizzick." Teach me not to reference a book by a dude with slavic characters in his name without looking it up first.
Then my bus came, and I got on, and man, I will never see this kid again. But I wish we were friends.
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[03 Dec 2007|12:40am] |
The internet's dangerous. Shit can stay around forever if you don't take care of it.
Anyway, at the moment, I'm reading Lisa's diaryland blog from 2003. Just looking for the bits about me.
"I know Allison cares, because, back in June, when we both liked Blaine. She saw an email, that he had writen me. And she said very plainly, "Lisa, you should go out with Blaine." I know that, that was hard for her to do. Because she really liked him too. And even she admits that she is a selfish person. And that selfless act right there, that really showed me that, she does care. Because she was able to put me above her. Her and Blaine, are great together. I'm so happy for her."
Hum.
Tiffany's one is still up, too.
"When I woke up this morning and checked my Yahoo messages, Allison left a message saying "YOU ARE COMING SOMEWHERE WITH ME TOMORROW. EXPECT A PHONE CALL BEFORE NOON. DO NOT MAKE OTHER PLANS OR YOU SHALL PAY. BE FOREWARNED.""
"Saturday morning, I woke up at 8:30... as I always do, like clockwork. I got online, and chatted with Allison about the pie I made (as I do a lot), and she finally just said "I'm coming over to eat pie." About thirty minutes later, Allison arrived. Heh."
"Then Allison came up with the idea of blind-folding Aton, finding small objects, sticking them in his hair (which, by the way, is an afro), and having him dig them out and figure out what they were. Such objects included a marker, an eyeshadow brush, a pencil sharpener, and nail clippers."
"As we were walking to the car after eating dinner at Lisa's church, we all heard music coming from the woods... so we went in search of it. We parked at the catfish place and walked through the woods, down the roads, and through peoples's yards to try to find it. We never did."
" Last Thursday night, Allison, Victoria, and I watched a show on the Discovery Health Channel called "You Swallowed What?!"
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[29 Nov 2007|09:05pm] |
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your LJ along with these instructions.
5. Don’t you dare dig for that "cool" or "intellectual" book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest.
K.
Let's see.
In a Gothic boudoir whose doors were concealed behind tapestry curtains, the bordering of the material, the clock, the patterns in the carpet were all Gothic.
Haha. It's from The Wild Ass's Skin by Honore de Ballsack..
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[24 Nov 2007|06:40pm] |
Speaking of blasts from the past, and much more dramatic than my nearly six-years-old kiwibox profile, I found my binder of schoolwork from eighth grade in the closet of my room in my parents' house.
Jesus Christ. I didn't throw a goddamn thing away. Founding Fathers project, journal entries from english class... this purple notebook my friends and I would pass around and write in. It was so funny and humiliating and sad. I wish I could tell little Allison to cheer up. Eighth grade was a horrible year, though, what with the hit-list debacle and a bunch of family fiascos.
Also, I mean, I was thirteen.
In addition to being very sad, I was also a huge jerkoff. I swore in my essays for Mrs. Young's history class. I headed my algebra homework 'Waste of Time 14." All my report cards- not on task, talks in class, disruption and all that. There were also a lot of attentives and pleasure to have in classes, though, so I must not have been a total pain in the ass.
Survey we filled out about our expectations for the year and what we were looking forward to about high school.
What do you like most about Mance Park?
-- The snack bar.
What's your favorite sport at Mance Park?
-- Mance Park does not have archery, rugby, fencing, swimteam or pool. So. I don't have a favorite.
What do you like about Mr. Cammarata?
-- Eh.
What do you like about Mrs. Haas?
-- Really, I don't know either of them personally, so I can't say.
How do you think you'll feel next year as a freshman in high school?
-- The same.
Apparently my favorite show at the time was Spy Groove.
I meant to bring up some of the papers and post them here verbatim for grins. Poor sad little funny humiliating Allison.
The sad thing about the algebra- I looked at it and was confused.
----------------------
Sam and Ky should be here soon. They said they were stopping in town for booze and taking a cab here. Just cooling my heels. I should clean up a little.
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[17 Nov 2007|11:45am] |
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Oh man, I just finished watching the last episode of the first season of Heroes. It was so awesome. I cried like seventeen times.
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[16 Nov 2007|11:44am] |
First year when I didn't have a computer, I'd always use the same one in the library. I'd play minesweeper until I got the high score. Every day, the next day, there would be a new high score, some kid named Danno. I would beat him, he would beat me, I would beat him, he would beat me. Went on for most of spring semester. Eventually, I couldn't get any lower and Danno won for good. We met each other later that April in the Prescott gazebo. "Oh, so you're..."
Anyway, I have come here today to talk about a.) cutting myself and b.) what a retarded asshole I am. Gather round, gather round.
Two o'clock last Wednesday, I couldn't sleep and was feeling broody, but mostly bored, so I decided to, that's right, cut myself, because, I dunno, that's how I roll. Why not.
So I clear a large space on my floor by the door, strip down to my skivvies and get to work. A bit too deep. Minutes later, I am sitting what we called in kindergarten 'indian style' on the floor bleeding all fucking over the place. It starts to pool around me, and I'm like, aw fuck, this is one more super idea to add to my long list of super fucking ideas. So it starts to go under me, and I'm like ahhh blargh and completely strip. Now I'm naked and bleeding all over the place. I sit for a few minutes in panic, wondering when it'll stop, then get bored and start making blood handprints on my floor. Then I think about how it would look if someone were to walk in (the door was locked, but man, that would look really goddamn weird), so I look around wildly for bandages. The box had fallen off my nightstand and was under my bed, out of reach. I couldn't walk anywhere because I'm, you know, bleeding all over the place and it would get on my clothes, which are... everywhere all around me on the floor, so I'm trapped in this circle I cleared. I could, however, standing on my toes on one leg and stretching, get my laptop from off the table. I'm bleeding all over the place and can't move, so I decide to watch a movie on alluc.
So then I'm curled up in the fetal position, naked, on my floor in a pool of my own blood watching Bring It On, like, what the fuck. I really like their contest pieces at the end, competitive cheerleading is pretty sweet to watch.
Anyway, I couldn't leave the circle for a few more hours, watched some X-Files, finally crawled into bed around seven or eight, slept through my Thursday classes.
Anyway again, London's done been shipped off to rehab finally. I asked her why she couldn't just go home, and she said because she wouldn't get rehabilitated there (point) and because she'd have to move back in with her abusive mother (point). Awkward. So I told her, fuck your mom, I'll beat the alcoholism out of you right now! And threw a couple of play punches, and she laughed. That's why I like London, she doesn't take things too seriously, can take a joke and all that, even in a pretty serious situation.
I'm so awesome.
I hope she gets something out of wherever they've sent her.
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[14 Nov 2007|06:19pm] |
Hahaha, I just found my profile on this website I used to go on. Czech it.
Allison's kiwibox profile proudly presents:
Allison at 15
Hi, my name is Allison. I always talk like I'm wigged out on quaaludes. I like music, pina coladas, getting caught in the rain, wild teenage compact-car based sex, moshing, the occasional concert (though I suppose that goes under music), sushi, laughing at my mom's attempts to keep herself blonde, and drawing.
I fill out surveys when I get tired of beating Minesweeper.
1. Name? Allison "Jesus" Driscoll (Go on. Stalk meeeee.)
2. D.O.B? Feb. 1
3. Where do you live? Texas.
4. If you could live somewhere else would you? I believe the phrase "hell yes" applies.
5. Do you have any siblings? Yes, I have two brothers, Luke and James.
6. If yes, do you like/love them? Yeah. We get along quite well.
7. Do you get along with your parents? No.
8. Do you have any pets? I have a dog, his name is Dr. Richard J. Bakker
9. Have any tattoos? No, but I want a bar code on the back of my neck, or some other small thing...
10. How about piercings? Three in my left ear, one in my right. I want my nose done.
11. What is one thing/thought/idea/belief you could never give up? I don't know. I think I would bend under torture.
12. What is your sexual preference? I'm as heterosexual as the sun is hot.
13. What are your feelings on Gay/Lesbian/Bi-sexual rights? It's all good.
14. What are your feelings on African American/Women rights? It's all good.
15. Have you ever had sex? Indeed.
16. If so, do you regret it? No.
17. Have you ever smoked pot? Yes I have.
18. Have you ever been drunk? Yes.
19. Did you ever do anything you really regret when you were drunk? Oh, not really.
20. How do you feel about abortion? I don't think I would ever have one, but I'm for choice, y0. Also, I know this sounds horrible, but overpopulation is a problem, foshizzle.
-end survey-
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| XIX |
[30 Oct 2007|08:34am] |
Man, I want to write out a complete timeline of Friday/Saturday to make sure I have everything right, or just as an experiment to see if I could get it all down in the proper order if I tried. Thinking about it is totally exhausting, though. In retrospect, taking that acid at 3 or 4 or whenever was a bad call, but how was I supposed to know everyone would divide and pass out all over so quickly. Tara and Carson were up for awhile, and then Liz woke up temporarily and we tagged photos on facebook and watched South Park. Then everyone fucked off somewhere. Then... I don't know, some things happened and Tara, Carson, Jersey and I drove to the Hess Express. Then... everyone fucked off again. It's really fuzzy, the order in which things happened.
I tried to pass out on Liz's kitchen floor, but I ended up just huddled in a little ball watching the tiles morph.
Walked home around 9:30. Ahaha, it was so cold and rainy. I'm impressed at how well I can function while I'm tripping balls. Normal conversations, getting cigarettes at the Hess, walking home, making my bed. I was tripping all by my lonesome in my bedroom for a few hours there until Sam invited me into town with her and Jane to go to the natural history museum and walk around and eat and stuff. I had the glow until I woke up the next morning.
Acid is such a time investment. Man. It's good to feel normal again.
Sam's parents have changed their minds about Sam transferring and moving to New York, so, I don't know, unless something miraculous happens with that I'll have to find some stranger-roommates. I'm not really keen on that, but I don't want to stay here. I guess I'll just go balls in.
I can't fault Sam for that. I can, however, fault Olivia for backing out. She makes it out to be this big financial issue, like, she can't live with us because she can't afford it, and that makes sense to me... she has a place to stay for free. She can live with her dad in a nice place, expense free. Then, all of a sudden, Jesse asks her to move in and she's like, "Rent? What rent?"
I wish she'd just be upfront and say, "Hey, I'd rather be alone."
It's weird; Olivia is absolutely full of shit, but she doesn't know she is. Reminds me of Breakfast at Tiffany's: She's a phony, but at least she's a real phony.
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| XVIII |
[25 Oct 2007|10:01am] |
Oh man, Ky's come for the weekend. He showed up last night with like a million pounds of coke and matching shirts for me and Liz. He's being Bai Ling for Halloween. Ahaha I love Ky.
I dunno, I have class in half an hour. Killing time. I'm out of the emo-ass mood I was in for the past couple of weeks. Maybe it's Ky what done it.
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| XVII |
[16 Oct 2007|12:57pm] |
I've been trying to remember the name of this book of dinosaur poems I had as a kid, and it just occured to me today to google it.
I remembered one part of one poem:
Deinonychus was named for his terrible claw,
Deinonychus was savage and cunning.
He pounced on his victims and ate them all raw,
Before they had even stopped running.
Turns out the next part is:
Ferocity was his predominant trait,
His nature was purely predacious.
He ate what he killed and he killed what he ate, In the days of the early Cretaceous.
Good stuff, good stuff. I'm going to buy it.
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| XVI |
[15 Oct 2007|04:45pm] |
Just in case I misplace the paper, here's the thing Olivia wrote to me in her journal in December of last year.
"What time is it?"
"2:22"
"Make a wish"
"Okay, I made one, did you?"
"Yes, I did"
It was warm for winter. It was a high temperature Christmas, like a holiday fever. Still, you were wearing your black coat, the one you always wear indoors. It smells like you. Dolce and Gabbana and cigarettes. Chimney puff before 10 am nicotine fix.
The gazebo was the length distance of many arms so we distanced ourselves, perching butts on a leaning handrail. Stopping like the concrete from door to door.
The sun got in my eyes. Inside reflected wattage onto skin pores. We could all see the electricity in our faces. Your door was open, a morgue of dirty clothes and pop-tart wrappers waiting to be identified and buried into coffins of cardboard texas postage.
The kitchen table was usually patterned with plastics turned ashtrays and left-overs molded to the sides of plates. Ally came in, fingers wrapped around a take-out bag from the school store. She put a bag of nuts in front of us, refusing them.
"Have some nuts," she said and stomped the catwalk to the double, like always slamming the door (no one ate the nuts).
Together we scribbled on a coloring book of veridian village flyers. We took turns drawing our memories of houses, and I watched as the furniture became 3-dimensional.
Love Olivia M.
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| XV |
[12 Oct 2007|02:33am] |
Okonkwo ruled his household with a heavy hand. His wives, especially the youngest, lived in perpetual fear of his fiery temper, and so did his little children. Perhaps down in his heart Okonkwo was not a cruel man. But his whole life was dominated by fear, the fear of failure and of weakness. It was deeper and more intimate than the fear of evil and capricious gods and of magic, the fear of the forest, and of the forces of nature, malevolent, red in tooth and claw. Okonkwo's fear was greater than these. It was not external but lay deep within himself, lest he should be found to resemble his father.
We discussed Things Fall Apart today in class. I'd read it before, in 9th grade english, but I had forgotten much of it. The class was split. Half hated Okonkwo, half found him to be at least mildly sympathetic. I love him because he reminds me vaguely of my father, the way he used to be. It's not so very black and white. I don't believe that abusive behavior and essential goodness are entirely mutually exclusive. I understand how my father got from point a to point b (perhaps not to c, but hey).
I was so afraid when he had cancer because I wasn't sure whether or not he cared enough to live. Weak in some places, troubled, flawed, but I still believe that he is a good man.
Well, I don't know, I vascillate on that. Today I feel this way. I don't know, it's, like, complicated. Whatever, I just want us to be okay with one another, everyone in my family. I guess. Ahhh I don't know, why do I even try to express this shit. I never explain it right, it just sounds douchey and emo.
Olivia and I read each other sections of our private journals yesterday. The contrast was fucking funny. I sit on the train, taste of something strange and thick on my tongue. vs. I do want to be with him, but... I haven't even seen him since Bang Fiasco '06. Fuck. FUCK.
I cut and dyed my hair today. I wish that my digital camera hadn't fucked off on me so that I could take pictures. It's strange to touch it; when I run my fingers through it I get to the ends so quickly. It's above my tits now, which I sort hate because I like looking at myself naked when they're covered by my hair, ha. It's "very rich auburn" now. It looks nice, I think. I can never be sure, because I can never quite get a handle on what I actually look like.
Because I'm trying to be healthier as of... yesterday or the day before, Sam and I bought only healthy food at the grocery store, with the exception of a couple frozen mini-pizzas for emergency drunk eating. We bought as many groceries as we usually do on our exciting sojourns to the Big Y, around eight bags, but it cost twice as much. None of the produce or healthy frozen items are marked down for discounts on our savings card. We usually get around 15 off. Bummercore.
I still have, like, a fifth of an eighth of mushrooms in my purse. Keep forgetting to take them out. I don't know what to do with them. I'm not even sure it's enough to trip on. Maybe I'll try it anyway.
Holy shit, man, I totally pwned Brad in an argument over whether or not the band Venom coined the term "black metal." In front of a lot of our friends. We made Jon bring out his computer so that we could throw down. I think I hurt his pride or something. Ahaha.
Ahahaha I promised him I wouldn't rub it in his face but I mean come on.
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| XIV |
[10 Oct 2007|09:27am] |
I've been missing this man that lives in my neighborhood (I suppose it's my parents neighborhood now, but it feels strange to refer to it as such), around the corner from my new house and down the street from my old one (moving across the street was probably the most convenient moving I'll ever do). Well, not constantly, he's just been popping up randomly in my thoughts.
He's old and has a scraggly beard. Every day he wears light-wash jeans, a blue plaid flannel over a white t-shirt, and, most importantly, a navy baseball cap that says S.O.B. in big yellow letters. I'd say Arial Black, maybe. He spends all day every day walking his dog, excepting the days on which the weather is really fucked. We just call him the S.O.B., I forget his real name.
I wonder what he's doing right now. I suppose I know, walking his dog and wearing his hat. He's looked the same the entire time I've known him, or maybe I'm just superimposing what he looks like now on my old memories. He's always had the S.O.B. hat, though, I'm sure of that.
I hope he and his dog are having a nice day.
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| XIII |
[09 Oct 2007|04:31am] |
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October break this weekend, most of my friends have gone away until Tuesday. Despite my plans to hunker down in my bedroom for the entire long weekend with a stack of books and coursework and the pills Ally sold me, I drank for the first three nights and tripped on the fourth. I don't know, I don't know what I think about the trip. I had planned to do it early Saturday afternoon with Sam, Brad, Sanju and Jacob, but it fell through and then Brad sprained his ankle, Jacob decided to wait and Sanju decided to go home for a couple of days after all, so it ended up just the two of us, myself and Sam, eating mushrooms at a picnic table at midnight on a Sunday. It was real geekout stuff, I guess. Crazy extremes of emotion, coupled with a terrible fear of expressing anything because I knew, I just knew, that if I told anyone what I was feeling I would freak out in like this huge gushing torrent of emotions, both positive and negative. It was like a law I had to follow. So there I was, at Jacob's, watching him use a can of beef stroganoff to play Keep On Rocking Me Baby on the guitar, singing, eyes welling up with tears, thinking about how much I love my friend Victoria, the threads on my pants turning nutty colors and moving around, I should go home and kill myself, I love Sam, I want to wear the sunglasses, the table is melting. Everything felt so fun and strange and sad and lonely, which it is, but everything was amplified into this incredible cacophonic distortion of whatever it was to begin with.
Came home with Sam and watched David Lynch's short films, still wearing the sunglasses, feet propped up on the table, laughing, everything around me moving. I wanted to go to my room and be online. I wanted to talk to someone, but I couldn't, it was the law, and then the computer went all wiggly. Finally getting around to the hunkering down with my books.
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| XII |
[30 Sep 2007|12:40pm] |
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Last night, it was cold enough to wear my winter jacket. Well, it probably wasn't cold enough, and I was a little uncomfortable sometimes, but god, I love it.
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