Monday, December 21, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
my top 10 albums of 2009.
1. miike snow - miike snow
2. phoenix - wolfgang amadeus phoenix
3. man. orch. - mean everything to nothing
4. grizzly bear - veckatimest
5. the avett brothers - i and love and you
6. passion pit - manners
7. monsters of folk - monsters of folk
8. brand new - daisy
9. conor oberst - outer south
10. john mayer - battle studies
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Liz johnson
Every color swirling around
Like a rainbow tossed into a hurricane
I still keep the same face
Zealous eyes to match the smile
Attempting to change the past, I
Baptized myself in my bathtub
Every sin removed only briefly, because
The truth is they’re always
Hanging, dangling from the hairs on my skin
Every color swirling around
Like a rainbow tossed into a hurricane
I still keep the same face
Zealous eyes to match the smile
Attempting to change the past, I
Baptized myself in my bathtub
Every sin removed only briefly, because
The truth is they’re always
Hanging, dangling from the hairs on my skin
Monday, November 16, 2009
“How To Be Picked First For Dodgeball: Chapter One, For Eager Freshmen” Liz Johnson
Don’t get dressed too fast for gym class. Your nerdy glasses and high-water jeans will make you seem overly anxious when they’re flying off your stick-framed body. You don’t want to be out of the locker room first. Pace yourself. Find the most popular, built guy and follow his lead. Don’t stare too much though, he’ll think your checking him out. You won’t get picked first if half the class thinks you’re homosexual. Don’t wear your gym uniform like you should. Rules are for breaking. Rebels are badass. Don’t tuck in your shirt all the way, but don’t let it all hang out. You don’t want to look like you were rushed because you wanted to stay late for chemistry to discuss your upcoming projects with your favorite teacher. Sag your shorts. Nothing says cool and tough like displaying your boxer’s band. You know, the boxer bands that say the name of a popular teenage store that plays loud music and smells like sex as you apprehensively stroll past it in the mall. Yeah, show that off. Don’t let your socks show. No one knows why this makes you tough, but do it anyway. Everybody else does. Take one last look in the mirror, make sure your outfit is acceptable, and slap on one last layer of deodorant. No one wants a smelly team player.
Notice the guys the act out as the gym teacher explains the rules. These are the gods of dodge ball. They don’t need rules. They sleep, eat, and shit dodge ball. You want to be just like them. Again, don’t stare at them for too long, they’ll catch on. Don’t stand with the others in a straight line. You’re better than lines. Stand out in front. Position yourself away from those who won’t be picked first. Make yourself seen. The gym teacher will pick the captains and you will need your inhaler when you realize that the guys picked don’t even know your name. Hey, you could always be “the guy over there that looks like he’s trying too hard”. Don’t give up just yet. The captains will scan the line for their first teammate, which will be you, or the guy next to you, or the guy next to him, or…well, you get it. Don’t shrink back. Chin up, chest out, not too far out, and pick a stance that says “I shave everyday”. Don’t look the captains in the eye. This is the automatic pity stare. The minute you look them in the eye, you’re basically shouting “please pick me so I don’t look like a freak to the girls playing volleyball on the other side of the gym”. Don’t look down though either. Look at the girls. You’re more interested in them anyway. Those tight tight gym shirts and those short shorts and…damn. Okay, so Billy Thorton was picked first. It was rigged anyway. Don’t get down when four, now, five names have been called. You’re probably not flexing hard enough. Slouch a little more. Sixth person picked? Not this time, buddy. Sag your shorts a little more. Seventh? Hey, they do know your name after all. Don’t run too fast over to the huddle, but don’t be too slow. Strut. Good luck.
Don’t get dressed too fast for gym class. Your nerdy glasses and high-water jeans will make you seem overly anxious when they’re flying off your stick-framed body. You don’t want to be out of the locker room first. Pace yourself. Find the most popular, built guy and follow his lead. Don’t stare too much though, he’ll think your checking him out. You won’t get picked first if half the class thinks you’re homosexual. Don’t wear your gym uniform like you should. Rules are for breaking. Rebels are badass. Don’t tuck in your shirt all the way, but don’t let it all hang out. You don’t want to look like you were rushed because you wanted to stay late for chemistry to discuss your upcoming projects with your favorite teacher. Sag your shorts. Nothing says cool and tough like displaying your boxer’s band. You know, the boxer bands that say the name of a popular teenage store that plays loud music and smells like sex as you apprehensively stroll past it in the mall. Yeah, show that off. Don’t let your socks show. No one knows why this makes you tough, but do it anyway. Everybody else does. Take one last look in the mirror, make sure your outfit is acceptable, and slap on one last layer of deodorant. No one wants a smelly team player.
Notice the guys the act out as the gym teacher explains the rules. These are the gods of dodge ball. They don’t need rules. They sleep, eat, and shit dodge ball. You want to be just like them. Again, don’t stare at them for too long, they’ll catch on. Don’t stand with the others in a straight line. You’re better than lines. Stand out in front. Position yourself away from those who won’t be picked first. Make yourself seen. The gym teacher will pick the captains and you will need your inhaler when you realize that the guys picked don’t even know your name. Hey, you could always be “the guy over there that looks like he’s trying too hard”. Don’t give up just yet. The captains will scan the line for their first teammate, which will be you, or the guy next to you, or the guy next to him, or…well, you get it. Don’t shrink back. Chin up, chest out, not too far out, and pick a stance that says “I shave everyday”. Don’t look the captains in the eye. This is the automatic pity stare. The minute you look them in the eye, you’re basically shouting “please pick me so I don’t look like a freak to the girls playing volleyball on the other side of the gym”. Don’t look down though either. Look at the girls. You’re more interested in them anyway. Those tight tight gym shirts and those short shorts and…damn. Okay, so Billy Thorton was picked first. It was rigged anyway. Don’t get down when four, now, five names have been called. You’re probably not flexing hard enough. Slouch a little more. Sixth person picked? Not this time, buddy. Sag your shorts a little more. Seventh? Hey, they do know your name after all. Don’t run too fast over to the huddle, but don’t be too slow. Strut. Good luck.
“Sunday” Liz Johnson
I always drove out to the lake after I had had a rough night. I liked watching the morning fishermen head out in hopes of bringing back dinner for their hungry families. I could never understand how they could sit still for hours and hours, though, just them and the lake, nothing to keep them occupied. They must have grown bored at sometime or another. I wondered.
This morning was different for me, in the sense that I don’t remember night ending and morning beginning. It had all been spent at the lake anyway. The garbage bag wasn’t too heavy; she had been fairly young. I slid the bag off the docks as the first warmth of sun heated up my face. The cool splash of water cooled and slapped me out of my confused state. I sat down.
I do remember the rain stopping. I was relieved by then that the screams for help had ceased. I was disappointed to see that as soon as the sun came up, the clouds raced each other to hide it. The rain had left a haze over the lake, and everything seemed blue. Even the trees, sprinkled green by the newly welcomed spring season were a tint of blue.
I could always tell when the fish were waking up. They would sporadically jump above the lake line and splash back down. The fish were not awake today. They could be gathering around the new contents of the lake, a dead little girl. But, where were the fishermen? Were they also down at the bottom of the lake, around the mangled body? It didn’t seem likely.
I couldn’t get over how quiet the lake seemed. Although there were no fish jumping, no loud motors from the boats, it still didn’t make sense. Even after several minutes of searching, I could not find one bird in the sky. In fact, not even a light from a cabin across the lake seemed illuminated. Everything that could be conscious knowing knew. I still had splashes of the once thick red fluid on my hands. The color now brown, and the fluid now dry and thin. Inevitably the splashes had found their way up my arms and to my neck. What a mess, mess, mess.
The second time I felt the lake on my body was voluntary. The water was still cold, and the smell of the lake crawled up my nose and suffocated me. I sneezed and jumped a few steps back. My sneeze echoed over the lake as I heard sirens in the distance. The sound was so faint that I was almost certain the fog covering the lake had entangled the sound; had trapped it. The fog was telling me to run.
I climbed into my truck and turned on the radio. It was 9:27 a.m. and a preacher came through the speakers loud, but distorted. I never got good reception out here. It was Sunday and I was late for church.
I always drove out to the lake after I had had a rough night. I liked watching the morning fishermen head out in hopes of bringing back dinner for their hungry families. I could never understand how they could sit still for hours and hours, though, just them and the lake, nothing to keep them occupied. They must have grown bored at sometime or another. I wondered.
This morning was different for me, in the sense that I don’t remember night ending and morning beginning. It had all been spent at the lake anyway. The garbage bag wasn’t too heavy; she had been fairly young. I slid the bag off the docks as the first warmth of sun heated up my face. The cool splash of water cooled and slapped me out of my confused state. I sat down.
I do remember the rain stopping. I was relieved by then that the screams for help had ceased. I was disappointed to see that as soon as the sun came up, the clouds raced each other to hide it. The rain had left a haze over the lake, and everything seemed blue. Even the trees, sprinkled green by the newly welcomed spring season were a tint of blue.
I could always tell when the fish were waking up. They would sporadically jump above the lake line and splash back down. The fish were not awake today. They could be gathering around the new contents of the lake, a dead little girl. But, where were the fishermen? Were they also down at the bottom of the lake, around the mangled body? It didn’t seem likely.
I couldn’t get over how quiet the lake seemed. Although there were no fish jumping, no loud motors from the boats, it still didn’t make sense. Even after several minutes of searching, I could not find one bird in the sky. In fact, not even a light from a cabin across the lake seemed illuminated. Everything that could be conscious knowing knew. I still had splashes of the once thick red fluid on my hands. The color now brown, and the fluid now dry and thin. Inevitably the splashes had found their way up my arms and to my neck. What a mess, mess, mess.
The second time I felt the lake on my body was voluntary. The water was still cold, and the smell of the lake crawled up my nose and suffocated me. I sneezed and jumped a few steps back. My sneeze echoed over the lake as I heard sirens in the distance. The sound was so faint that I was almost certain the fog covering the lake had entangled the sound; had trapped it. The fog was telling me to run.
I climbed into my truck and turned on the radio. It was 9:27 a.m. and a preacher came through the speakers loud, but distorted. I never got good reception out here. It was Sunday and I was late for church.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
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