Apologyy to nowhere

I’m sorry.

I’m sorr I said I would chop your head off.

I’m not going to chop our head off.

I don’t really even think I have the tools for that sort of thing


I like you too much


Not my cup of tea

My mom said when I was little to say that instead of yuck.  But I had to watch this movie for class credit today and what an epic waste of time.  In Pursuit of Silence 2015.  I’m trying to find something positive because I’ve been told to look for the good in everything and that will help me with life and being a better person.  There’s nothing positive about this movie.  I don’t know if somebody really cared.  Like, was there a writer who stayed up late nights struggling over the truthiness of the movie and if it was art?  Did anybody care?  Was it about the money?

Here’s why I don’t like it:  First of all, well let me go back.  I liked the beginning when there were these still shots that got kinda artsy.  I knew it was an artsy movie so i was prepared to be a little bored, but I wan’st prepared to be annoyed.

Who gets to be silent?  They were talking about going in the woods and retreats and noise decibals but who gets to worry about noise decibals when you have to pay the rent.  By the time it got to the second Japanese tea ceremony and goofy silent guy ordering a subway sandwich on a notepad I had had enough.

A very superficial movie.  It should be banned from being screened in schools.  They didn’t even really delve into digital.  Well, I didn’t see the end because I left to go to the bathroom because I wanted to rip my eyeballs out.

Meanwhile, I did find out there are two actually new movies coming out that look cool.  This jd salinger movie   and then 


which is a movie about the guy who wrote winnie the pooh.  Both of these will help me I think get back to Ben2Times and the stories.  I’m not a real writer, but I writer short stories and they make me happy.  I really want to do that again.





NO smoking and writing a novel

My “friend” today said to not call it writing a novel.  She said to do it one piece at a time and don’t say novel.  I’m eating macaroni and cheese and I have a headache.  I’m writing a chapter today.  Tommorw = chapter.

This blows.  I don’t like starting.  My teacher said if I can do short stories and stuff then I can write.  I saw another blog said 3500 words a day he’s doing.  I google it and it says thats 7 pages single spaced.  So I’m going to do what he’s doing.  Doing it now.

Sorry Fred

At the end of the second part of class today I realized that he’s not so bad. (OMG this lady in the library right now is changing the printer paper and shit and is SOOOOO angry. She is old and slamming the drawers and the paper in and looking a us crazily.) In class we talked about the Jihari window and how there are things that you keep hidden from people, things that open, and things that are blind to and things that are unknown. He said that when you write you can go into the unknown and I liked that. It makes me wonder what is hidden about me that other people can see but I can’t see for myself. I know what is hidden about him and he can’t see but I should probably not judge him for that.

But then I wrote in “Freewriting Portion” today that we all do that when we write stories and stuff. Judging. Anyway, wtf with this lady. Today I learned a lot about writing and taking chances so I am going to write a short story and take chances. I’m sorry to my teacher and I’m glad he wasn’t such a cuntbucket today and was nice to me and actually even smiled when I was there. I’m going to keep saying my affirmations and treat people nice and everything like that. It will be great and I think things are going to work out finally.

“Unlike novelists and playwrights, who lurk behind the scenes while distracting our attention with the puppet show of imaginary characters,

“Unlike novelists and playwrights, who lurk behind the scenes while distracting our attention with the puppet show of imaginary characters, unlike scholars and journalists, who quote the opinions of others and shelter behind the hedges of neutrality, the essayist has nowhere to hide. While the poet can lean back on a several-thousand-year-old legacy of ecstatic speech, the essayist inherits a much briefer and skimpier tradition. The poet is allowed to quit after a few lines, but the essayist must hold our attention over pages and pages. It is a brash and foolhardy form, this one-man or one-woman circus, which relies on the tricks of anecdote, conjecture, memory, and wit to enthrall us.”
-Scott Sanders

I have a huge fucking problem with this quote my teacher gave me. I hope he chokes on his fair trade 8 dollar biscuit while reading this again. I am trying to be nice. My doctor said to picture him as a little baby and would I be made at a baby and I nodded and said MmmHmm. But really, yes, I would hate that fucking baby. Babies don’t go around talking about other babies and making them feel bad about what they wrote and telling them that poets and writers are dumb trashy. Babies don’t say that I’m lurking and distracting with characters and hiding in the bushes when I write. I want to hide in his bushy grungy beard and whisper Trump tweets in his ear while he sleeps.

He called poets quiters and novelists trashy which is kinda true, but not really, I don’t think. I like trying poetry sometimes. I used to start from rap lyrics and I might try that again. I want to turn in a page of em dashes, but I know he will get ANGRY and that’s funny to me because he tries to act so calming. He says the Peace be With You writers when we leave but his face screws all up in a fucked up knot when I talk.

The other day I finished my assignment and it was at the end of class so I needed to leave bc it was snowing anyway. I thought a normal person would do that without having to bow to his budah highness but no. He gets all weird about it like I’m supposed to plead and beg him first before putting on my coat. Bullshit.

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…And I was having a good day to.  Screw the em dash and all the dashes i will put them in hell with an inferno like dante so people can laugh at all his enemies for CENTURIES


-you are now a character- –in a short story i will write.  soon lol —- — – ——   –

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Your process essay
Fred Lux
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Yesterday, 2:10 PM
Stacy Hill
You replied on 2/15/2017 2:27 PM.
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Hello Stacy, 
I finally read the draft of your process essay. As usual, your writing takes me into unexpected places, and often works within realms I cannot quite fathom. I do not say that to mean that it should be different, only that I may not be the best reader of your work, for I do not always even know how I feel when reading your writing. This piece, in particular, feels like the monologue of a little girl who jumps all around (and why not?) but it is unclear where the piece is headed. In fact the draft literally ends mid-sentence at the bottom of page 3: "...measured out in "  Out in what? I am curious what "the hims" are. I am curious about the sailboat forms described on page 3. (By the way, use a dash — instead of a hyphen - on each side of "Keelboat form." I make a dash on my computer by pressing shift+option+the hyphen key.) 

I am not sure what to say about ways to revise what is here. Why should I care what a little girl has to say or think? It feels random. I have a hard time relating to little girls. And yet, clearly, many humans love thinking about childhood, who they are, what power they have, and how it affects our lives. What does writing from the perspective of this “paranoid” girl do for you? What does it allow you to explore? In what ways might it obscure things you could say more directly? These are the questions that come up for me when I am reading this piece. I want to understand it better than I do, but I need the piece itself to offer something of itself to me, to reach out. So far in my life, I have not really felt that little girls care much about me. This girl, too. I want to care about what this being says, but cannot find an entrance place, a way in, yet. 

Hope my comments stir up something valuable for you. Please know that you are free to ignore all that I say and write what you want. I am just trying to be honest, and also trying to say to you that I want to connect to your writing more than I do in this piece. At least as it is so far. I look forward to how you revise it.

Guess who’s having the most amazing Russian twitter meltdown?

As we speak.

LOL my title is like that old movie with Ashton Kutcher, “Guess Who’s coming to dinner?.”  I remember watching that when I was little.  But we need to talk about your president.  Seriously wtf



imho he’s sniffing the glue again behind the white house dumptser.  Got them aerosol cans or maybe just a line or two of that white lady (My mom called it that the other night and we were ROLLING laughing).  Anyway your president is having an epic Frozen iceberg meltdown and it is fun too watch.

It’s kinda like watching an action movie scene in slow motion when they show you all the train pieces flying up slow-mo into the air and the cars veer off the tracks and you know everyone is going to die.  But still fun.

He uses twitter like my friend Veronica used to and one time she went OFF.  All the way.  She blasted Marcus and the whole volleyball team and the coaches the principal, I mean everybody. It was crazy to watch but then she killed herself tho.


I don’t think he’ll do that. He’s too rich and crazy and now I wonder if we ever had a president who committed suicide.  There’s alwasys room for growth.

That may sound mean and it was.  I guess I should talk at my appointment today about that whatevs! lol.  No, I will.  I had a guy say that to me once and it made me be like WHAT!? “I can’t believe he said that….” on the inside but I didn’t say it cuz I knew he was already mad.  He was like, “Bitch… kill yoself.  Jump off of a bridge or something”. and I was like damn.  That was mean.

Well, I gotta go to school shout out to all my hata’s I know you don’t read my blog and that’s find by me it’s for my ANONIMOUS hastag twitter facebook rants and trying poetry without actually having to embarass myself to all my irl friends like the president.

the way we talk

My friend had to explain to my mom that she talks differently to her little sister than ways that my mom would understand.  Here’s what happened.  They were at our house and we were just playing around and Jacki’es little sister was there because she had to watch her. THEN, we found the shattered perfume bottle tried to be hidden in the closet and asked her why she did it (we know it was her).  Jackie tries to be nice and all and in meantime mom and her stupid neighbor get there to pick up some more things for the brunch.  So we’re questioning Margo and she obviously lying and Jackie says to her “SEE- this is how you get the shit beat out of you.” in a real man way.  Finally Margo confesses and we clean it up and my mom was listening at the steps and called up in the room.  She says, “Jackie, as a parent, I am very concerned, it sounds like you beat really beat your sister, if so, this is not ok.  She is considerably younger than you and cannot protect hersrlf  and that is ABUSE.”  So I start laughing and can’t stop ROLLING and Jackie looks really confused and that makes it even funnier.  “Mrs O. I don’t know what you mean, that’s how we talk to each other.  That’s how my mom and dad talks to me.  Except worse.  It don’t mean I actually DO it.  Or would do it… it’s how we talk.”  And my mom’s like yeah well but you said That’s How you get” and Jackie was like yeah it’s the same as saying “That’s how you WILL get” but we don’t say Will like you guys do.  Oh. My mom says.

Then she goes, “But don’t you think that will hurt her self-esteem or scare the living beejezus out of her, I mean, she’s just a kid for God’s sake.” Then Jackie says Mrs O. then you don’t know <Margo, she can be a tanzmanian and I will beat the living shit out of her… but not really.  That’s just how we talk, I mean, communicate.  Then my mom goes on and on about self-esteem and I start to get sleepy and hungry and I can tell Jackie kinda spaces out after a while but finally they both agree that she’ll try not to threaten Margo’s very life next time and try OPEN communication systems or something like that.  (but I think she’s still gonna say she”ll beat the shit outta her) LOL

My mom is great.  Corny sometimes, but really, really great.