He's a man you must believe Helping anyone in need

Recently, I have been forced to really think a lot about the future. What high school you go to can determine the college you go to which can shape the job and life you end up with. And I was really thinking, what do I want o be when I grow up? When people ask, I often tell them I want to be a flying, fire breathing purple dragon, but somehow, I have the feeling that that might just not work out.

So what do I really want to do? Who do I want to be when I grow up? I;m not so sure, which is just fine for a teenager. But I do know something: Whatever it is I want to be, I want to make an impact, I want to make a difference in the world. I want to make people's lives better, make them smile, bring them justice. I want to make a difference, but not really one where it's like me on tv, being famous, a difference as in the world knows who I am. I don't mind if my difference is fairly nameless, as long as it really does change something. I'm not sure what I'm getting at, or how to phrase it. Even if it's only one person's life, I want to be able to make it better. What I want is to make a really profound difference in someone's life, hopefully the world. Sitting in a cubicle office job transcribing papers doesn't cut it for me. I mean, I know the people in that position (or most of them) don't want to be where they are, and don't have much of a better option, but I don't even want to get there in the first place.

I'm thinking maybe I'll be a lawyer. I come from a family of lawyers, and I'm pretty logical, and like to argue, and I don't know, I could be making history, you know? But I don't want to be the "stereotypical" lawyer, corrupt and putting the wrong people in jail and then spending the rest of my days playing golf. No, I was thinking maybe something not-for-profit, where I could help people's live, give them the justice they deserve but can't get otherwise. Like making sure that special ed students get an equal opportunity in schools, or helping to get gay equality like marriage, or something like that. Getting women in Africa the education, healthcare, treatment they deserve. Getting that everywhere. To know that I had made someone's life that much better, would make me so happy. It would motivate me.

So, that's it. I want to help the world, I want to DO something. Hey, maybe not even when I grow up! Maybe even now! Or one day soon...

Title Quote: The Beatles, Doctor Robert

Once we set sail to catch a star

I just wanted to wish everyone a HAPPY TURKEY DAY!

(disclaimer:In no way, shape, or form, does this mean that I, Lola Bellybutton, endorses hurting any turkey of any kind. I am simply stating that it is the day of turkeys. And, frankly, I'm sick, and don't feel up to ranting cynically about how thanksgiving is bogus etc. etc., and i'm sure you've heard it before. So instead, just celebrate TURKEY DAY. And hey, why not even hug one? Find a nice, happy turkey, and hug him. And then take him home for dinner. You can share your opinions about the world over a nice steaming hot plate of tofurky. Enjoy!)

Title Quote: Cream, Deserted Cities of the Heart

just sitting here and trying to decipher what's written in Braille upon my skin

I was rummaging around in my documents folder on my laptop trying to get rid of stuff I don't need anymore (The Wizardress informs me that this is a form of OCD) and I found this old monologue I wrote last year about this 6 year old girl who... well, I'll let you read it it to find out.

So today, I was walking down Oak Avenue, and I met someone. He was this old guy, you know, the one we always see when you take me to school? Well, today he stopped me and asked me why I wasn't in school, and so I told him how it was spring break, and it was raining. I told him that I was going puddle stomping, because all the rain makes all the puddles. He said his name was Oliver, and I told him mine was Marisa, and I was six years old, so I was old enough to go puddle-stomping alone! But he said he wanted to come along, even if I was old enough to go all by myself. He said he could help me find new stomping puddles. So we, the two of us, went walking. Oliver was so nice, he gave me a big red lollipop, because, he said, we were friends. Oliver is my best friend! I was about to eat it when we saw a super huge puddle! So I put the big red lollipop in my pocket, the one you sewed on my dress, and I went and stomped a huge stomp in the middle of the puddle. It was so much fun! Then all of a sudden, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a rat! Or I thought I saw a rat. But really, it was a cat. A kittycat, and she was so wet and shivery she looked like a rat! So I ran off to catch her so I could cuddle her all better. Oliver was the one who caught her though, and he said I could keep her. So then we started walking again, this time with kitty. Oliver said he lived close by, and we could go home to his house and he would give me some more candy and some nice, hot chocolate. He said he would give kitty some milk too. But, oh, no, then kitty jumped right out of my arms and scratched poor Oliver! He said all these words and then his face got really red and his face was really purple! It was really funny! So I started laughing, and I guess Oliver thought it was funny too, because he started laughing too, and his eyes bulged out so I could see all the white parts. He said I was trying to demean him. "Are you trying to demean me, huh?" He said, over and over, and he just kept laughing, I did too. I don't know what demean means, but it must have been very nice because he was smiling very widely at me. And then he started started walking to me, and I thought he wanted a hug. because we were friends, and kitty had given him a boo-boo. And so I gave him a hug and he picked me up and squeezed me really hard and he was still laughing and his spit got on me. And then I heard this boy. He was shouting at Oliver! He was a big boy, and he looked funny 'cause his hat was on backwards and his pants kept falling down really low. Then Oliver saw the big boy and dropped me and started running. It hurt a little, but I guess he had someplace to be that he was late for. it's too bad he couldn't show me his house, and we would have played more, but maybe I'll see him next time I go puddle stomping.

So then the big boy came over to me and he took my hand and asked where my Mommy and Daddy were, and when I told him you guys were working and I was old enough to go puddle stomping alone, he smiled really wide too, just like Oliver, except different, and said he had a present for me. He said he knew where magical fairy land was, and that I was the only little girl in the whole world who could go inside it. He said that once I went there, I would be a fairy princess! He took me to this shiny silver car and told me that to get to the magical fairy land, first I had to play a game. He said I had to play hide and seek in the car, so all the fairies couldn't stop us from going to their land, so I got in the car and hid all the way in the backety back, where you put the suitcases. I curled myself into a little ball like a snail. The car ride was bumpety. But then, we got there! Or really, we stopped, and I kept all curled up because I was worried the fairies would find me, but then the big boy came out and told me the car had broken and then he heard a police car. It had lights and the police car noise, and the big boy got very scared. He told me to hide in the bushes from the fairies, and so I did, but after a while, the fairies hadn't found me and I was hungry.

So I thought I could stop hiding, and I tried to find the big boy or Oliver again, but I couldn't so I decided to go home. Too bad kitty couldn't have been there, but she ran away when I went in the car. Anyway, I walked a really long time, and my feet hurt, so I decided to climb a tree to see where home was, but when I got way up, a doggy came and started barking and he was a scary doggy, and he was drooling and there was white spit all around his mouth, so I stayed up in the tree. But I'm sure he was a very nice doggy. I just didn't really want to go down just then. But finally he left and I went back down the tree and I kept walking until my feet hurt so much, but finally I got home! And then I saw you, And I told you all about my day! And, oh, I forgot! I still have the lollipop that Oliver gave me! Mommy, why are you screaming? I want my lollipop back!

Title Quote: Regina Spektor, Braille

I felt a little fear upon my back He said "Don't look back, just keep on walking."

So last weekend, I got some henna done. I know, not the coolest thing in the world, but still. I really appreciate art, and I never cease to be amazed at this certain art form, being able to literally wear intricate art designs on your hand/ body, watch it move and twist as you. Tattoos, too, but these are better, Especially since it is something sort of in a way much more common yet much more rare, as it is freehand, and can only really be done once, yet stays on for only a few weeks, and then vanishes with the rest of your old skin particles rubbed off. Here are some pictures of my current one (sorry for the bad lighting!)
The woman who did was from Pakistan, and had been doing her job for about 5 years. She asked me where I was from, and though all I said was New York, she kept on persisting,asking where my parents were from (new york). She must have though I was Pakistani or Indian. Which is very funny, since I'm kind of the opposite (eastern european jew). She was surprised at the fact I was even carrying on a conversation with her, and then she became pretty astonished when I talked about Henna so knowledgeably. I guess most of the people she does are ignorant americans, but I know a fair amount about it, having just done a school project on it and having done at home myself a few times. I encourage you to try some henna; if you haven't already. Each time you look at it, you smile, a little painting on your skin. It can go anywhere on your body, and, like I said, lasts a few weeks. If you want it to look the way mine does, go somewhere professional. It doesn't hurt in the least. They basically jsut paint a stain on you. If you want to do something yourself, just find a place near you that sells henna or order it online (it comes in dried green powder form) and then mix it with some water, something acidic (lemon juice works best) and essential oils, adding parts until you get the right mixture, smooth and thick, but not too thick to be unable to paint, and not runny so it pools everywhere. Then put it in a squeeze bottle, or, for better accuracy, a cone (you can buy these where you bought the henna) and draw! Wait for it to dry, about 30 mins, then wait a few hours longer before rubbing it off, revealing a stain beneath. The longer you keep it onl teh darker it gets.

Have fun!

love,

Lola

Title Quote: KT Tunstall, Black Horse and a Cherry Tree

But has he run to you In those shoes in the rain?

I am water person. I mean, zodiacally, I believe I'm an Earth sign, but though I am close to the Earth, I am water. I love how when you're underwater, feeling intensifies. You can't hear much--and if you keep your eyes closed, see much either, so it's just feeling the water push you and flow you and I just feel so graceful. Like, I know it sounds silly, but like a mermaid, you know? And I feel that too on the ice. I love to skate. Not that I'm very good, nor that I want to be some ballerina figure skater, but when I get on the ice, I start gliding around and faster, and fast, and I'm swaying from side to side and I feel the wind rush through my hair and my feet aren't lifting from the ice, and and and...

I get a feeling as though, if there weren't people, and city, and lights, and cars, and just ice, and more ice, just stretching out like a path, I would just skate and skate and skate and glide along while the trees sing to me, "Lola, Lola." And I would be full of grace. I'm not very graceful on land, never really have felt it. And I don't think I'm especially graceful on ice, either, but at least I think it. Grace--and beauty, that comes with grace. The ice, the shine, the night, the happiness, it shows through. I like it. I think I like the freedom of it. Perhaps it's the closest to flying I can easily get. It would be amazing to fly. But hey, I'm content to stick with swimming and skating, gliding and turning and speeding. Eventually you get tired, but that just means that after you get out, or off, you have another chance to get in again. I think that's a dream of mine: To fly and fly and spin and twist and be the ice, be the water, more often. Ice isn't cold and unfriendly, it's welcoming, supporting, lifting, graceful.

Title Quote: Ill Willed Person, Jaymay

Well if you want to say yes, say yes

Well isn't this strange. Isn't the world strange. Isn't strange strange? I feel like there a million thoughts zooming through my head, each trying desperately to find a hole, a way out: through my ears, perhaps. And I seem to have let my guard down, and they keep on escaping, and then who knows where they go. Once they're out, I can't keep track of them. Maybe they find some with a less cluttered brain, maybe someone who's better at organizing their thoughts, and settle in, and talk to them instead. I don't know.

Sometimes, I feel as if there's an epiphany coming on, sometimes I feel as if it's happening this very moment, that I'm on the verge of a breakthrough, on the verge of understanding... something. And then I lose it. I think to hard, or someone interrupts me, and then there I go again. I'm back in the dirt where I started again, blindly searching for the glasses I need to find them. How can I search for my glasses if I need my glasses to search for them? This is all metaphorical, mind you. It's like trying to see something up close and in depth, but from the corner of your eye. If you look straight at it, it disappears. Like those, what do you call them, (google informs me they're called stereograms) where you have to unfocus to see the picture? I feel like these great ideas, these great understandings, if you will, are continually flitting in and away. Does anyone else ever get like that? My brain just plain hurts. (you can tell because I'm using waay to many italicized words.)

You what my situation is? It's like this: I need two very sharp pencils do what I want, and all I have is one small dull one. But sometimes it's not the pencil, is it? Sometimes it's the hand that's wielding it.

Title Quote: Cat Sevens, If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out

Head full of candy bags Costume shops and punks in drag

I want to talk about Halloween. You know it was originally that on October 31, the spirits of the dead came back, and people wore costumes to disguise themselves against the harmful spirits. Now, it's just an excuse for little kids to dress up as fairies or princesses or ghosts or characters from movies--or an excuse for the older crowd to have huge parties. And don't get me wrong. I rather like dressing up, assuming another identity, and I am not at all against this. But isn't it ironic that barely anyone ever dresses up as something scary any longer? And if they do, it's usually a mask or store-bought costume that some company tells them is the definition of scary. This is what I'm being for Halloween: A zombie goth ragdoll.

The picture is something storebought, I know, but it's only my inspiration. I spent about an hour and a half weaving my hair with black and red yarn, to create a stunning effect, and put together a bunch of clothes (fishnets, yay!) and finally modeled my makeup on the picture, and was so incredibly happy with the result. I love halloween and dressing up, but I'm also a procrastinator, so I usually never actually get around t being much more than a witch. (been that like seven times.) Remember I was love last year? The blog had only just started, huh? Wow that's some bad writing from back then. Anyway, I feel accomplished.

But back to actual halloween. Did you know that the word come from All Hallow's Evening, that was shortened to even, which was then e'en, which is halloween. Cool, huh? I think that everyone should dress up on Halloween, but also that everyone who dresses up should have to make their own costume. You go to school or enter a competition, and the costume that wins is never the mask or storebought, packaged idea. It's the one which looks homemade yet still very very cool. It makes everyone happier to make it themselves, that's what I think. And why do so many people dress up? Because no matter how "dorky" some people might proclaim it, it's so fun and refreshing to dress up as someone else, something else. to be able to shed your own skin and personality, and by hiding behind a mask you come out as someone different. By hiding, you can show a different part of yourself that You wouldn't normally. And I think somany people want and desperately need that. To be, for one night, ghouly and creepy and scary and screamy--That's what the world needs, they need sometime to just scream out loud, to let it all out. I don't know if I mentioned it before, but one of my favorite parts of the Marriage Equality Rally was being able to just let it all out. People around me chanted and screamed and yelled and cheered and I just opened my mouth and cheered as loud as I could, and I felt as if I had blown dust from the depths of my lungs, as if that last old bit of air had finally been cleared, and I could feel the old dirty empty spaces filling with joy, happiness, unity, peace. We all just need time to express ourselves in the most animal of ways. Happy Halloween, everyone.

Title Quote: Ryan Adams, Halloweenhead

So I'm going to buy a gun and start a war If you can tell me something worth fighting for

I guess I don't have a lot to say right now. I guess I'm being pushed so hard in school, with high school applications, with test prep and art portfolio, that I don't have a lot of time to sit and think about things and write about them. I don't have enough time to be philosophical. But I do have a bunch of cool and/or beautiful things other people have done/made. I'm not posting them. I'm just going to wait. Wait until it's all over, until it's all out of the way, and I have time to sit and think my little head off. Then, who knows? Posts may be flying from my fingertips.

I did have a dream last night: In it, I was in a pool in London, on a floaty pool thing, that I was navigating as a raft. My guide person was standing by the edge, directing me where to go. As I passed by parts (it was a very big pool), I would see baby animals, sitting by the edge or in the water. I kept pointing them out, because they were so cute, but the thing is, all the baby animals were predators. I kept trying to navigate away from them, but the current was strong and I bumped into a baby alligator. I made my way to the edge of the pool, relieved that the alligator hadn't retaliated. But there it was, smiling cutely and swishing its tail. It stuck its head over mine, its jaws pushing into my neck. I could feel it, but it wasn't painful, nor was I scared (this often happens to me in my dreams). But I was in danger, and I knew that. Soon enough, a man with a British accent pulled it off, and then some other things happened, not relevant to this story. After telling this to my father, he told me he thought it was about boys: They may be cute and all, but they're dangerous. I laughed out loud. I didn't think it was. But maybe? I don't know, can't say for sure. Brain, what are you trying to tell me?

Title Quote:Coldplay, a Rush of Blood to the Head

the dust has only just begun to form crop circles in the carpet

This is the Russian Birthday song, or Crocodile Gena's song.

What's so funny is what the song means:

So what if pedestrians run
clumsily through puddles
and water is flowing along the asphalt like a river.
It's unclear to the passers-by
On this horrible day
Why I am so happy.

I am playing the accordion.
In front of the passers-by
Unfortunately, my birthday
Is only once a year.

and it goes on to tell us about there being eskimos and other weird things, but I couldn't find the rest of the translation.

Here's the phonetic version of the Russian, for anyone who wants to sing it instead of our boring happy

birthday at their next party.

Poost begoot neooklyooshl
Peshehodee po loosham
Ee voda po asfaltoo rekoi
Ee neyasno prohosheem
V etot dyen nepogoshee
pochemoo ya vesyelee takoi

Chorus: sing twice
Ee ya eegrayoo na garmoshkye
Oo prohosh na veedoo
K soshaleneeyoo dyen roshdneeya
Tolko raz v godoo

Hope you enjoyed!

Title Quote: Imogen Heap, Hide and Seek

Times Square can't shine as bright as you, I swear it's true

I believe I have only really talked about the subway once, but now I have another subway story to tell. It will probably sound hilarious, but I can tell you, it was pretty terrifying.

This happened about a week ago.

Every night, when I go to sleep, I usually have some sort of monologue or something in my head, I just talk out one subject to myself. The night before my train story, for no particular reason, I decided that before I went to sleep I would imagine the worst thing that could happen on a train to me. The next morning, I walk to the train station, a get on a train. My brother is on the other side of the car, in front of a man who I soon find is is a wino, drunkly slurring his words so all I can make out is "Armageddon" and "Jews". He's the typical broke wino: tall, disheveled, almost dredded hair, african american, not too many teeth, from the look of it. I relax, and settle in for the typical train ride. Then halfway between the stop I got on and the next one, the train stops. And sits there. And doesn't tell us why. Uh-oh, I think. This is the first part of my worst thing could happen on the train fantasy. Now I'm not claustrophobic, usually. But, when I'm inside a small metal box filled with people underground and there's no light outside and I know there's no way out and it stops, and no one tell me WHY, I get freaked out.

But I bided my time, told myself to relax. The wino gets louder. I get jumpier. I want to go to my brother, listen to his ipod (music will soothe me) or read the newspaper he's holding. But he's standing in front of the wino. a few excruciating minutes later, I make my way over and convince him to move to the other side of the car. By now, another man has emerged from the crowd: The crazy old man. He looks classic upper west side Jew, but I don't want to be racist, so I'll just say he's white, old, and grumpy. But I think he was Jewish, and might have been incensed by the wino's rant. Now the crazy old guy starts muttering, and then bursts out "Goddamn it!" then quiets down. The train laughs nervously. The wino continues talking. The train stays put, with no explanation. The crazy old man continues to burst out, at frequenter and frequenter paces, "Goddamn it! Shut up! Shut UP!" But he says goddamn like GODdamnit (the damnit bit very fast and sharp, the god punctuated heavily). He finally lapses into a tirade against the wino, who finally turns his attention to him, as he shouts "Goddamn it! God put me on this train today as a test, just SHUT UP!" The high schoolers on their way to school begin urging on the wino, and applauding at his drunk responses. At one point, a man in a business suit and briefcase remarks "This is better than coffee!".

The train PA system finally announces that we will be held here for as much time is needed for the train ahead of us to leave, since its doors would not close nor open (they were just banging against each other, or so said a fellow blogger, Melli, who was on the train). The crazy old man screams "You a**hole!", and the and the wino replies "I'm not an a**hole, YOU're an a**hole. You know what you should do? You should go outside, lay an egg in the dirt, and then eat it!" He nods proudly, and the teenagers applaud. I laugh out of fear and hysteria. The worst subway train. Stuck in a tunnel with two crazy guys. I'm about to crack. Luckily, the train finally moves, it having been about 15 minutes of this, the two men bickering incorherently to each other the whole while.

I get out, meaning to just change cars, but the literal wall of people waiting for a train are so many I can't get back on. My brother stays on, smushed next to the crazy guy, and I resolve to wait for a another train, that comes immediately after my old one leaves. Now here's the weird part (as if all this hasn't been weird, right?). I get on this train, and breathe a sigh of relief for its seeming normalcy. The woman sitting in front of me looks up at my sigh, closes her eyes, and then begins to cry, a tear sliding down her cheek. Shaken by this, I look away, and my gaze settles on a woman standing by the door. In her twenties, with heavy makeup and creamy olive honey skin, she is tragically beautiful. Why tragic? Because, unnervingly, she, too, is crying, tears dripping from her nose, as she stares at her reflection in the window and tries to fix her makeup. I want to help her, but I can't. And frankly, this is ridiculous. these two women right next to me, just crying! And they don't know each other, either. They are just crying, for completely separate and unknown reasons. Incredibly shaken from my train rides, I finally get off at my stop, and proceed to school, for a following incredibly normal day.

Sounds almost funny, right? Wrong. Just so, so crazy.

Title Quote: The Plain White T's, Hey There Delilah

and a very funny piece by bill cosby about just this sort of thing.

Somewhere, over the rainbow, skies are blue.

So yesterday, I went on the marriage equality march in Washington DC. It started with the bus. No, it started before the bus. It started at 4:30 AM, which was when I woke up and left the house to get to the buses. It was still dark outside, and we made our way up to 43rd street sleepily. It was cold, and we were freezing. I was going to DC on a bus with 50 people, most of them gay. I went along with The wizardress and flower and a friend from school, Clara. We finally all got on the bus with loads of banana bread and shirts for everyone that said the name of the group we were marching for: broadway impact, at 5:30 AM. We settled in, because the trip from NYC to DC would take about 5 and a half hours.

Clara promptly fell asleep, and did not fully wake up until about 10 o' clock. The bus ride was fairly uneventful until the ending, as we neared Washington. Everyone on the bus introduced themselves, and let me tell you, I met some pretty cool people! And then, Gavin Creel, the amazing lead actor of the musical Hair on broadway, called us. He was on the hair cast's bus, who had taken the day off to march (the cast is filled with gays and activists). So Gavin Creel called and spoke to all of us on speakerphone, and though we couldn't hear him so well, it was totally awesome! (please excuse my annoying fan-ness, it doesn't happen often.) Then we got outside, and took the metro (very clean, fast, efficient, and even has padded seats!) tot he starting point of the march. We had with us two signs, one that said love is he law, and the other that said we were part of Cynthia Nixon's team from broadway impact (we were.)

We stopped to collect ourselves before the march began, and my three friends and I stood on a low wall while the rest of the group stood in front of it for a picture. Apparently, though we didn't know it, a camera crew for some news show was interviewing someone, and in the background and then zoomed up, us four girls appeared. My father says he got a message halfway through the day from his friend that, weirdly enough, he was sure he had seen his daughter (me) standing and holding a sign in Washington DC. So there I was, on tv. We began marching, and as our group approached, the people all applauded and let us and Cynthia (Nixon) pass through. I knew I was making a difference, I knew tha by being here and adding one more number to the crowd, I was helping make history. We broke out marching and waving signs and chant and screaming, and I screamed as loud as I could, I chanted each slogan at the top of my lungs (my favorite was "Yo! Obama! Let Mama marry Mama!"). Looking up at the sky, we found a beautiful gift: There, shining over all of our heads and rainbow flags, was, amazingly enough, a rainbow. Now you may not believe me, but I swear it was there, a rainbow for the rainbows.

You can see in the above picture how many people there were. There were so many people it just fades out and away past the horizon line. There was an estimated 200,000 of us. We all (or as many as could fit) finally finished the 2.3 mile walk and piled onto the lawn in front of the Capitol building. Hot and sweaty from the unseasonably summery weather, we took out our food and sat down to listen to all the speeches. My favorites were Cynthia Nixon's , Cleve Jones's, and Staceyann Chin's . We lay there in the grass and exalted in our combined strengths, our unity. I felt strong, I felt able to make a difference, I felt good.

Around 5:30, we left, and on leaving, I took this beautiful picture of two girls sharing a moment over the Capitol.

There had been a woman who, for about three hours straight, stood on the lawn and held her peace rainbow flag and waved it back and forth. FOR THREE HOURS. And this flag was pretty large, on a large bark stick. I mean, seriously, she had some muscles.

The Capitol was full of people, even as we straggled out, took the metro to our buses, and sat and enjoyed pizza from a delivery man. We then boarded the bus again and prepared for the long trip home.

On that ride home, we so totally watched a bunch of Judy Garland. So very typically gay, one of the stereotypes that seems to be oh so very true. Clara yet again fell into a deep deep sleep and no one could wake her. I myself stayed up until we reached dear sweet home NYC, at 11:30 PM. I went home and buried myself under my sheets and woke at 8:30 that morning, late for me. And then I had pancakes and told my family my story, as I am telling you.

There are close to a bajillion pictures on Flickr of this, here. Try to find us in it.

Here is the Marriage Equality Website

Here is the Flickr

Title Quote: Somewhere Over the Rainbow

One of these days the sky's gonna break and everything will escape and I'll know

I forgot to write about one very important part of the day from the previous post. It was this: walking on chocolate cake. As we walked through the garden in our happy bare feet, we came to tree, recently covered by compost and rich dirt, and slightly damp from the recent rain. we trampled it happily, exclaiming "it tastes like chocolate cake!" and it did. We didn't eat it, of course, but if you closed your eyes and imagined there were tongues on your feet, you knew that the texture of the dirt was chocolate cake. Or pie. Either way. I felt full when I was done feeling the warm, moist soft dirt rich with earth smell and slightly enveloping my feet, caressing them. If you had been watching from afar, you would have seen about 6 girls, with looks of bliss on their faces, as they walked carefully around and around and around a tree.

That is all.

Now check out these great pictures I got of some of the leaves in the park! Fall has fallen.

Title Quote: Civil Twilight, Letters from the Sky

THIS SONG IS FREE IN ITUNES RIGHT NOW. MAKE HASTE AND GET IT BEFORE IT GOES!

A dreamer of pictures I run in the night You see us together, chasing the moonlight

Yesterday, I, along with flower, the wizardress, bean, melli, and Sydni, went to the Storm King sculpture garden. It was amazing. We spent the day wandering in and among sculptures, eating chocolate cake, and running barefoot through the wet grass, screaming and laughing. We rode up and down on a glass elevator outside in the middle of the grounds, and the minute we got up we would press the down button again, watching as the earth rose and fell below and above us. We found these fruits we named bubbly fruits, that smelled like citrusmint eucalyptus, and were round and hard and greenish yellow. We made everyone around us laugh and bean spilled a lot of stuff, including, cheese, soda, milk, hot chocolate, and anything else near her.

It

was very funny.

There was one moment where we began to run down a hill and the speed propelled us up another and down another and soon we realized we couldn't stop and out legs just kept windmilling and we veered to the side and I thought I would fall over but instead I finally skip hopped to a stop. And I thought it was so interesting about how momentum works, and how the moment you start gaining it, it gets near impossible to lose it, with propelling backwards, which is impossible, since you can't stop in the first place.

The day was a smile.

Lola

Title Quote: Neil Young, Cinnamon Girl

Dressed in silk, latin, lace and envy

I don't really know what to write, but I do know I should write something, being as I have so many thoughts in my head. Most of it is teen angst, I grant, and stress about high schools. It's all about what school you're going to, what future you'll choose. If you don't go to the right one you may not get the right life. So don't screw it up. But no pressure, or anything. So I'm not sure how much time I'll be able to devote to this blog, but when I can, I will. It is my online diary, the place where I can deceive myself into thinking people are listening, so I don't have to annoy the people around me with boring thoughts or stories or websites.

I am lying on my bed now thinking about the boy outside my window. I talked about him in this post. Well, he's still playing music on that guitar of his. When I get home from school, at around 4, there he is, and when I go to turn my lights off around 9:30-10:00, he's playing there still. Over the summer, he opened his window to let in cool air, as did I. Some of the nights, I could hear his music drift in. Not especially good, but I admire so much his determination and drive to practice EVERY night. It's one thing that I am almost incapable of doing. So I watch him from my window, and strain to listen when I can. He sees me, I'm sure, but I don't know how much he cares. Anonymity can make everyone so much bolder. And another thing.

He has a sibling, in the next window, who plays drums.

Title Quote: Velvet Underground, Lady Godiva's Operation

She wrapped her raven rings around my line

some cool artists I want to point out:

YULIA BRODSKAYA

does what she calls "Papergraphics". Beautiful typography made from colorful whorls of paper. Here are the favorites that I could get.

tree

unify

city

love you

then there's RAKKA

who did a set of one artpiece a day for a year, and has finally finished. Each piece is done with traditionally non-art materials that pertain to the subject being created. The beginning ones are the best, but feel free to check out the rest. It's called SUSPECT AND FUGITIVE.

morton salt girl made from morton salt

arm and hammer from arm and hammer baking soda

clorox logo bleached into fabric by clorox

splenda logo made from splenda

and lastly, BUFFdiss,

an artist who does street art out of masking tape. here are his two sites:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/buffdiss/

http://www.thisblogrules.com/2009/08/street-art-made-with-masking-tape.html

and here is his best ones (in my opinion):

Title Quote: Elysian Fields, Rope of Weeds