there's this store across the street from the universite de philo in paris, in the 6iem, around the corner from saint germaine, where they sell the most incredible medical skeleton models- perfect models, perfect proportions of our skeletal system.

I've always dreamed and fantasized about buying a skull

I've always been a secret goth too.

I have been home for one month, one long arduous death defying month

when I close my eyes i grasp for memories of the street corner on rue des ecoles, my last visit to the left bank 

my sense of smell has been weakened by the everlasting rain, the tumult of my senses being defeated by weather and my eyes being blinded by the overcast sky

i have chosen to live so briefly in this place yet i am overcome by emotion every time i think of returning to a city that bowed down and kissed both my cheeks soundly

i am haunted by cafes, of kiwi fraisiers, of vanilla bourbon millefeuilles, of immaculate dressing and art that moves me to a higher sense.

i've forgotten how to live and yet have continued the way i did before, like a year never happened.

WOE.

i need sensibility back.

i’d have no concept of love if it wasnt for books, nothing to compare it to, no emotion to understand, and no name to call the feeling.

I’ve spent year cultivating the everlasting flavour of love, and this is something which billions of novels have been written about- this is the subject which has always capitvated us.

However, Lust always precedes love and without that translucent, decadent and buttery image and general assault we usually make of love, lies the true feeling of love. That is, when we are talking about the sort of love that brings people of non blood relations together. we are not to judge upon circumstances however, especially when remembering the Goalers of Annapolis Valley in Nova Scotia. Their love had precedent, the sort of oddly blood substance kind that creates novels which shock literary genre out of water and win these individuals prizes of all sorts. 

but yes, here we are again, talking about love as a feeling and not just as a word.  But as we say in greek- EROTA, meaning I am in love. and yes, it is certainly me in a first person sens

One of my talent's is applying eyeliner without a mirror

the other one is french braiding my own hair ( while being a hopeless waste at doing anyone else's)

I am also ambidextrous. 

I am like a mage, as striking as could be and the rain turns me to rust as the time flees

the end, mundanely and obviously enough is drawing near. Here I am flying back again to a time that spreads as vast as the land, without charming villages nor 3 am pastries.

I feel hectic and chaotic and like I cant catch my breath- I feel the same way without YOU sometimes when I remember what its like to be around. I am so conscious you are never in my dreams

All I really need is that tiny bit of encouragement and I will banter on for days. Sometimes I am quiet like a kitten, just a mew mew here and there.

A snippet of a long forgotten past:

All is not lost, not hopeless and definetly not OBSOLETE just close your eyes and think of smiles
when you run clear your mind and run faster than full speed always in life
I feel like a wise woman recomending herbs for abortions to you and is this making any sense?
I dont care to explain my thoughts nor my actions to anyone any longer. If you promised to join with me here in Paris, say, next summer I would not say no to the chance of running away, again.
Love yours truly.

 A way to describe me: 

you are a delicate flower with gold flecked petals and slender elegant stems.

I think the thing in which I most delight is when people use my name in conversation, in written in typed and in thought. 

they caw

and they crack, they cack

they are ethereal as they cavort,

as they swoop

their eyes like imitation hawks

pretending  like a childhood game

to no gain

as they feed solely on the flatgrass of the marsh

their stark white against the muddy green

and they are free 

unlike me 

starring from behind a thicker pane of glass

breaking on my white wrists

I long to be one of a kind

I hold 

I am held

I am the prisoner of Shalot

observing closely

what other's watch not. 

some nights I dont eva wanna sleep and some nights I creep into my crypt and dream a thousand dreams that I never remember

I like it best when I am taken away to follow dirt paths in strange forests on horseback.

It's rare I feel satisfied and I despise the horror of waking up to a bad dream and falling back into it after the light leaves my eyes dark as the miseries they see.

Some days I only want to spend money on clothes and fashion

Somedays when the wind howls and I breath in the ashes of thousands of favorite dead authors I would rather spend every penny on beautiful books.

I just wish I had a way to lug them all back home with me, in that huge suitcase that will be filled to the brim as I know it, as I can barely tug it along the metro platform and as I shy away from help from strangers.

I trust no one, and some say this is good, some say it is bad.

I am disappointed in the way I have been blogging here lately. Let's keep this written and let's do another one for silly rants and pictures, and keep this sacred and mysteriously dark. 

I WANT I NEED!!! Sunny Malta requires sunglasses. Too bad I'm a blind girl with the ole YSL thick lenses glued to my face. 

I can't lie

My heart skipped a few beats when Harlem covered Come back Jonee from Devo

THANKS GUYS! Let's all get married and live in stylish polygamy.

J'ai rate mon train ce matin a Paris car je suis conne et j'ai oublie tout mon argent et mes stupides cartes de credit chez moi, alors mes reves se sont vite termines a 6 heures du matin. PUTAIN DE MERDE.

In other news, due to above fact I have a severe sushi craving that was replaced by finishing off my goat cheese craving. It was mildly embarrassing to ask for "3 chevres frais" especially since I only usually buy 1 and the woman most certainly is completely aware of this.  I started working on an "Genomes" inspired art project for school (lame) but the "piece" itself is turning out really great! I'm shocked! I forgot how much I loved making art.

Central Saint Martin's has a graduate program in Magazine publishing. I think I just went to ambition heaven. Unrealistic as usual, but I am relentless and it helps that London speaks english just like my boyfriend, and its close enough to french speaking me to keep me rolling in Paris happy.  

I'm feeling very chatty tonight which is unusual for me.  I am also feeling cheerful due to above mentioned song. I love to hate on life while really being ok with loving. 

When I get chatty I make no sense. I need to quiet down. 

Tomorrow I'm going to eat 28 pieces of sushi

I cant wait. 

     Pour un flirt, avec toi, je ferai n'importe quoi

I can't get over my infinite fears of being a failure as a writer. I dont truly understand the correct definition of a writer, but my journals are boundless territories of thought and terrifying emotion I would never willingly chose to inflict upon the poor citizens of the world. 

However, I have once again failed to write something I began. My folders of this dear laptop are filled with many starts, many bad starts I begin to hate after reading them a second time. My ultimate second inclination is to say that I am a poet-however does being published count? Does a fear of reading this poetry to anyone make me less of a poet? Many men go through the same wasted brainless thought of wondering "am I a Man?" and I waste more time and energy on similar questions.

I feel like everything within the spoken word is a great eternal quest for me. I have not yet found a character who I love, I have no names of locations. it seems simple enough, to write a story-I feel adequately prepared in my life experiences to share my vast knowledge of moving to random countries for no reason. yet research aside, I dont feel at all prepared. And perhaps this is ultimately what is stopping me from moving forward in a literary sense..

I feel better after sharing that. I would like to word for Penguin books because I appreciate the simplistic aestheticism that goes into their books-whether it be covers or choosing the fonts or the paper. It's just all very nicely selected. 

I am weaving spells on everybody- it used to be so easy to weave my own destiny.

I make rash decisions-I am going to Malta, I am flying to Calgary (for love) I am abandoning countries and people and significant realities. 

In many ways it is my deepest curiosity why I have never been interested in space travel. The hour ticks by and I notice only when my eyes drop and my drool hits the keyboard, waking me up. 

I watch french boys dance in tight high waisted red pants, shaking around like they've got nothing to lose and then hell with it, I dance too. I peer upon concrete balconies feeling like it may drop off the facade of the 17th century house yet while I drag on a light I am assured that "zat will neva appen becas zes buildings ar vairey secue"

I know words to song I dont remember every hearing before. Sometimes I wish everyone I knew could plant themselves into this country and we could carry on the way I do. 

my heart throbs for every thing! 

I have been utterly possesed by the idea of going to Paris ready to wear fashion week. My dreams are so close to being reality and I've got no rags to wear, no names upon which to swear and certainly no the body of a 6 foot model who is working.

I am stooping low- I will email all PR firm, I will email everyone I can find and ask to volunteer. I am willing to skip school, skip sleeping, spend lots of money if I can just go and stand in the very back, small and quiet, a veritable house cat compared to the rest of slews of crowds who belong there.

I will stitch I will lie to my way through, I will say I study fashion, I will say anything and everything if they just let me in.

I've got every address. If I dont do it now, then when will I? Why didnt I go to school to study fashion, my one deplorable life lore, my one addiction. 

DREAM JACKET!

GONE BE MINEEE

I used to have a gap between my two front teeth and I miss having it there.

I also want long long brown hair. 

Proud owner of the full schedule for RTW fall-winter 2009 runway collections for the week of march 5th-12th in Paris!!!

I just need to get details like locations ( I've already got the Balenciaga show! N.Ghesquiere hire me because I am full of charisma and will work hard to polish your beautiful shoes with my drool over your beautiful clothes). 

blasted, just how to get in? HOW TO GET IN?? 

and now, shows I would kill my neighbor to see:

Balenciaga, Balmain, Lavin, Martin Margiela, Dries Van Noten, YVES SAINT LAURENT, Chanel, Alexander McQueen, Chloe and Miu Miu

this is my list for the week.

may I re-iterate, HOW TO GET IN??

" dans le monde il faut avoir une volonte de fer, surmonter le froid et le chaud, la soif et la faim, les grandes souffrances aussi bien que les petits bobos. Le monde n'es pas, comme le imagine la jeunesse, un palais de fees ou l'on vit pour son plaisir"

Letter from Georges Sand

(loose translation:" in the world we have to have a will of iron, be able to suffer through cold and hot, being parched and hungry, all the huge suffering as well as the little ones. The world isn't the way the youth imagines it, as a palace of fairies where we live to have pleasure. '

I changed the way I write my "e"s again but just the little ones. The caps are the ones that dont change, yet everything else follows patterns of constant change.

they are a little bigger and a little more angular, she says "you have very artistic writing"  and I seys "why thank you" and she seys in that snooty little tone " no darling, I cannot read it"

yet I am proud of my loops and curls and the severe lines I draw, I am proudest of my "g"s which looked exactly like typed and she seeys " what letter is that?"

I am growing offended and growing cold because she hasnt seen that cursive calligraphy and she will shudder I can see her now with her stuttering teeth, she will dearly pay.

I will withhold the treasure of words from those who annoy, I will withhold attention and pay, I will stick my nose in my coffee cup and continue to stare forward in that blank way everyone hates

"what are you thinking?" they seeys

and I seeys " you will never know you garden gnomes" 

I think I'm going to cut down on watching online television shows and finally crack down and finish reading Madame Bovary from Flaubert. 

 

some days I dream of shallow graves on the Nile lined with purple seashells and flooded with gold coins. The heat of Egypt caused the gold to melt all over a child's bones and the high tides, the dry season, all of these natural happenstances occurred at once and possessed the bones. 

I can't believe I didnt bring Lost in Translation with me to France.

I could and have watched this movie a billion times with billions of people. I feel like it has a different effect on everyone and I love sensing what they are feeling.

first time I watched it was with my friend Connor a long long time ago. sometimes I miss discussing deep and troubling subjects with him and being obsessed with intellect. I haven't read a good book in a long time and I've lately been craving to re read a lot of my favorite books like I often do instead of looking for new favorites. I do the same thing with movies- I watch them over and over because I trust I'll love them just as much as always.

I think I'm going to make an escape from Boredom.

last night I escaped from the phosphorescent dungeon of music and walked home, alone, without music and my eyes soaked in all the wetness of the night. It hardly ever stops the drizzle here in dijon and last night the sidewalks were glistening like ice. 

I love quiet as much as I love noise and there is always buzzing around anyways. 

Anyhow, I am hosting internal parties. All my organs are taking part and my heart is beating to whatever noise is happening and my limbs are all coherent. 

Today I asked a moral question to a friend who answered to me in the way I would have done it, despite her saying that I have "loose morals" and she is "a very conservative priest"

it made me feel better that i'm not a complete and total asshole, although my constant laughter at people may suggest otherwise. I am good as a fawn, I just laugh on the inside, a lot. I've got no one to share those horrible tidbits with. I miss real people.

I frequently forget about the line between fantasy and reality

I long to escape my own realities and the border lines between countries, even oceans do not do. I wish I had lived a long time ago as an adventurer, discovering the ancient tribes of the Amazon or the secrets of the world that lay undiscovered for so long. Technology has ruined everything and there is a lack of imagination in people nowadays that saddens me. 

Sometimes I truly believe I coax good things out of people- good emotions, thoughts, provocations etc. I think too much for my own good and never enough about things I should.

I feel like I lead this voyage of 'self discovery' for people, and maybe I am just being full of it. 

Whatever IT is, because frankly I am full of things. 

I feel incredibly frusturated and I have no outlet. 

Fleetwood Mac is one of the most soothing bands I can remember

My parents were too young to like a lot of the music I like and who knows where I even figured the whole music thing out in my life

but I remember as a little girl LOVING Stevie Nicks with her long flowing "witchy gypsy hair"

I always wanted to look like her! Alas, We are exact opposites.

the execution of Queen Anne Boleyn of England did take place on friday may 18th 1536.

HOWEVER-

There was no audience as a sign of respect from the King Henry VIII who also ordered a french executioner as a last sign of pity and a last respect of his love towards her.

Damn anyone who portrays it otherwise.

I often find myself absolutely SHOCKED by the lack of actual historical detail found within books, movies and tv shows. I think its absolutely disgusting that they take well known easily researched facts, throw them to the back and decide that a 16th century English wedding looks exactly like a wedding today!

Its extremely frustrating to be able to so easily identify these little details that are completely incorrect. This is not a book adaptation, this is history- something that is studied as a point of interest by many people.  

UGH. This is what makes a big difference from good and bad productions.

OH GIRL.

the wind here is strong

some night I feel like its sweeping me off my feet

when i repeat stories in my head walking down avenue victor hugo

oh its so romantic in my mind when i walk into the bar

with my hair all over the place and my cheeks so red

and my colour slowly rises when I realize i know absolutely no one and my loneliness catches me at my worst

but for some reason in the morning

makes me feel like I am loved eternally by mother nature

who makes me feel as wild as any amazonian woman

and as charming as any lady from an exotic harem

SEEING THE CRYSTAL STILTS TONIGHT

AND THE BLACK LIPS ON THURSDAY

AND N.A.S.A ON FRIDAY

AND THEN PONYTAIL NEXT TUESDAY

AND GANG GANG DANCE NEXT THURSDAY

oh and I bought a bus pass

and just downloaded a song that has beeps in it? instead of swear words??

I want to start thinking about graduate schools:

PUBLISHING- I want to make books and magazines!

short list of so far discoveries:

 Columbia College (Chicago, Illinois)- Interdisciplinary Book and paper Arts

New York University (duh)- Publishing

Emerson College (Boston, Massachusetts)-Publishing and Writing 

Simon Fraser- (vancouver, BC) -Publishing 

oh god, real life is approaching so fast! 

FIRST CUT

ps. my grandfather fixed my macbook charger- the component to enable the plug into the european plug system would stay on so he ducktaped the entire thing. Not a speck of white to be seen. hehehe

"my grandfather is a proud sort of man. not a bragger but a man who shows off every achievement he ever achieved with pictures to prove it. yet he is no bragger in his mind.   he is the sort of man who frequently announces, when you are talking about your vacation to Switzerland

"yes, I went there. Lovely. So clean. I went there. I saw everything, I did nearly everything. I talked with people. I have pictures to prove it, a whole stack"

my grandfather only speaks one language, a language of a small country that few people who are not natives of the country  speak. Yet he manages to make conversation in every country he visits.

his passion is english. he owns 5 english dictionaries and if you wait a moment, he will run and get them to show you. He will make mistakes and once you correct him he will say 

"yes, thats what I said. exactly so."

He will ridicule you for not speaking of your knowledge fast enough. He is all knowing. He could have studied, if the damn communists had not come. He swears at all Russians, yet dreams of St. Petersburg. he still calls it Leningrad. 

He was a great athlete. He played every sport, ran every race. He can shoot any gun with exact precision. He shot a bird in flight last week. He has run marathons. All the vases that are displayed above my grandmothers kitchen cabinets he won in running races. He was not young then anymore either, it was all in the past 20 years. My grandfather is 74 years old and remembers world war II. He has the body of a young god, if young gods looked like old men who are well fit.

My grandfather once told me

"I played goalie for the national football team"

He has since revoked this stating he played in the premier league for Slovakia but did not take part in the national team. He also once punched a teenager during a match for taunting him  from behind the net. He didn't even miss the goal the other team tried to score on them.

My grandfather thinks my father is incredible. He tells the entire village that we live in Canada and have a BMW and a house that he helped remodel. Truly he merely added a cement wall next to the driveway to keep the gravel from spilling away from our driveway because of the rough weather. 

He built their house from scratch, all by himself. he added the roof years later and the upstairs would make a fantastic atelier for him, if he could only take up painting again. But paint is expensive, and he makes little money. 

he does have a lot of money saved to give to me as a gift when I get my doctorate. he saved when he was the mayor. He pronounces it 'major' and refuses to say the word in any language but english. I believe he has completely forgotten it in slovak. 

my grandfather wants to build me a house, from the basement where I'll keep the cherry preserves, to the roof, fully equipped with the skylights I love for their light. My grandfather can install infloor heating to keep my toes warm so I wont need to wear slippers.

My grandfather could have had any property he wanted, but they all got too expensive by the time he decided he wanted them. He wishes he was young so he could build himself another house. he enjoy works, hates sitting around.

This is not a man who waits for you to finish your sentences. He has already begun more interesting new thoughts as soon as you have opened your mouth. You are always behind. 

You can find nearly everything in his basement: fur coats to fashionable clothes. Its a real "shame" that he burned all my father's old clothes. We would all be wearing them nowadays. He has old skis- wooden skis. you've never seen anything like them thats for sure. I am quick to reply that I have in antique stores. My wit turns up blank stares and he continues with the discussion of prices for downhill skiing in Grenoble. One might live in France, but according to my grandfather, one has no clue what goes on in the country or where places are. 

He is surprised by any amount of knowledge you may offer. He can counter any argument and will frequently change sides mid battle. He would have been a bad warrior- yet certainly a strong skilled one. 

My grandfather is getting old. You can hear it in his sentances. His senses are fading, his legs are hurting, his fingers would never be able to type as fast as mine- so he says. He talks to his television, talks to his cat. He argues with my grandmother about whether the courthouse television show they watch has actors or real people. He is mystified by much of what he sees. He has not had the possibility to live out many of his dreams. this makes him regretful. He often tells me we have nothing to talk about together because he is an old man, yet he never shuts up. 

He is a paradox unto himself and with death fast approaching I wonder how i will miss his pointless rants. "

HELLO DOLLY

Proud moment:

I can successfully swear fluently in 3 languages. sometimes I mix it up for more effect

Not so Proud moment:

I really need a smoke, and a break, from life, from reality. I need to loosen up.

I have absolutely finally come up with a New Year's resolution exactly about 21 days late. It doesn't matter to me, we are still new to this year and its still a resolution, starting about now:

BE MORE LADYLIKE.

indeed, I finally need to become more of a lady, and less of a slob, even on days when I have exams. Truthfully speaking, most of my clothing is packed away in a suitcase right now but as soon as I am back in La Belle France from Slovakia, I swear on every pair of heels that I will be and every cute skirt I will wear, I will become more ladylike, even down to my mannerism. I hope to at least, and I feel like at the very least, I will fulfill the goal of being "more" if not "Lady"

Favorite things I will buy or have bought: the fun part is the guessing which I have purchased and which is the plan:

 

My dream clothes are all out of reach and i am beginning to feel the onslaught of my nightmares haunting me

I forgot to mention I am going to see one of my favorite bands ever, and one of the most creative bands, in my opinion lately. they gathered all this attention around them lately and I feel super positive about how much energy their show will have. I have been insanely and distinguishably jealous of everyone that has seen them, I am just PRAAAYING they will play some stuff of Gods Money


OH AND BABES OF THE WORLD ARE COMING:

I just need a good honest slap across my red cheeks.

I am beginning to feel like i have sunken into a convulsion mind perversion. I cant seem to explain my simplest thoughts and I have been feeling highs and lows like I have before and its telltale signs of mind crimes.
I am having difficulty coping with my own thoughts, something which I feel I of all people should be able to understand. I know how I feel but I somehow feel like it must be untrue and that the circling vultures over my head have been imagined by my mind. Where would such a great african bird fly to a country as cold as mine, laying thick in its quiet cold, its bitter wind that even the trees gave up- they finally started swaying. I feel like there is no life on earth and my feet have lost as much as my mind.

grumbly grumbly.