Carly Simon

It seems the spirit leaves you
when you become too smart
to start thinking for yourself.

Apparitions embodied by strangers,
stories and information come in
uninvited, perhaps a sign of a
higher power to tell you of worm holes
and the history of years and magic animals

and while the skin is seething with interest
and lust, the self cleaves and leaves you
waiting for all the days you remember the moment
like a simple photograph, a memory of a nice day.
a memory of young adult hormones that made you feel
like the world was bigger than everything that's been shoved
between your ears.

if you try real hard
you can hear the birds sing again
and if you try real hard
you can take note of the details.
but you're lying to yourself
so you slip back into arranging all the blocks
to make a shape or a structure you can stand on.

all you really want to do is get new blocks.

the fight against is as equally stupid
as the fight for.
there you go changing on me again.
there i go refusing to.


Everyone seems to be praying these days.
None of the people praying can figure out why.
"We have grown to such great numbers,"
said the lead praying man,
"that we can no longer account for the clarity of
our individual prayers.
Instead, the sound has grown into one collective pitch
resonating high into the heavens.
Thus do no expect your individual prayers to be answered,
but instead a universal one."
When the people heard of this misfortune,
there was a deep sadness throughout the world.

kim krans
i am not a shrinking violet

in honor of the chacos i had on my feet today...

I've decided to share some other things that have made me smile in the past week.

Ashley found this the other day while trying to figure out how to go about making a pop-up vagina for her Love at the Glove valentine's day cards.



I have mixed feelings about this one, but decided to go with my first instinct which was, "this is funny."

ok, it did make me happy. But it's not now because I can't find it again. Therefore you also will not be happy. Let's move on.

My cousin Erin posted this on her facebook a few days ago after getting back from Chicago for business.

Erin is glad to be in wisconsin - was getting really sick of suburban chicagoan coeds and their overhighlighted hair and lip gloss.

And to which I responded "that was funny" she said,

every annoying girl on UCUI campus was from naperville. I got sunburnt from their glowing blonde hair, and when one gave me her resume, her 3-inch french manicured nail scratched me. I almost threw up.

Talented shit talkers are funny.


I work at Lone Star Steakhouse in Carbondale which does not make me happy. However, one of my co-workers whom I rarely talk to came up to me and said,
"Do you like movies?"
"Uh, yea? Same as the next person?"
"Yea, ok. Name your top five favorite movies."
"Tough question."
"Just anything that pops in your head."
Going for the ultimate wash, I said "Wes Anderson" to which he exclaimed,
"I KNEW IT! You totally looked like someone who would love good movies."

And that made me happy because he made a correct assumption about something that is quite important to me as far as interests go and then had the courage to propose such curiosity in the face of a demi-stranger.

But then I immediately thought that my boyfriend doesn't do that and I got sad for a moment.

I put an old cd on and didn't realize Looper's "Treehouse" song was included in the mix and that made me really happy. Like little pleased smile happy, which is the best kind.
Here's a crappy fan video that makes me feel kinda nauseated, but don't let it ruin it for you.


My friend stello (he's over there, under Hey, I know those guys! ------------------>)
told me about vimeo, which has been a source of happiness for me. Here's one for you.

you already know. from Jessica Bigarel on Vimeo.


I made some jewlery the other night (happy) because I was left home alone with no car and no friends (not happy). Here it is. Soon to be on etsy (happy).







That's all for now.
Good luck making yourself happy.
That post was a weeks worth of material.