BOOKS I PLAN TO READ THIS SUMMER:

the stranger (done)
a portrait of the artist as a young man (done)
the adventures of tom sawyer (done)
oliver twist (reading)
lady chatterly's lover
crime and punishment
bonjour tristesse
on the road
satori in paris
the adventures of huck finn
of human bondage
the plague
the old man and the sea
the jungle
dr. zhivago
catch-22
the house of the spirits
one hundred years of solitude
a confederacy of dunces


it's all i've been doing, reading. i need to get out of the house, i think.

i'd like to see the egyptian exhibit at the de young.

i'm here now, although i suppose i'll be on this blog for a bit more.

this summer has been lazy and lovely, books being devoured and naps being taken, although i must say the june gloom has gotten the best of me.

i leave for france on the 6th of july, and i can't wait to get the fuck out of here for good.

it's summer. now what?

no no no no no no

i no longer want to go to school, i am ready for: spending entire days submerged in swimming pools chasing the ice cream truck down the street sitting in a hammock and drinking ice-cold limeade having time to raid the library every weekend going to the fair and riding on the zipper not waking up till the afternoon and and and on july 6th at 8:45 am i will get on a plane and go away for a very long period of time.

you can't do that if it's only 60 degrees out, if it's january.

"why are your pants all muddy?" (or, a fun yet disorienting night in the city)

(some people were wondering where i went after the rave. here is the entire night.)

Friday afternoon:

(all times after 7 are approximations; i've got better things to do than look at my watch constantly)

2:35 - i get home from school.
5:30 - i get a ride to the city.
6:10 - i'm dropped off downtown.
7:00 - wendy calls me and we meet up and start walking aimlessly, trying to find RAYKO.
7:15? - we find it and say hi to everyone and look at maxx's photography. as i'm going to get a soda everyone leaves and i have to run to catch up.
7:45? - all of us walk over to powell where we take muni.
8:00? - we get off at forest hill; i die of embarassment; someone decides that we should walk all the way to mt. davidson instead of taking the bus (why? come on).
8:00-8:45? - we're lost. i eat some brownies and blindly follow everyone and anyone because after all i have only the vaguest idea of where the fuck i am (we crossed portola at some point, i think) and my cardigan is rather thin and it's cold. the neighborhood we're in eerily resembles the one that my friend lives in and i'm half-expecting to end up right in front of her house. the numerous hills ensure that my legs are constantly burning; it's worse than p.e.
8:50? - we've found mt. davidson but not a way to get up it, so we keep wandering and people start getting angry.
9:00? - we find a muddy, rocky path, unpaved and most likely never walked upon before we came upon it; it's black as pitch and we can't hear any music coming from the top of the hill but oh well.
9:00-9:15? - we hike uphill and i fall loads. shit.
+++++++++THEN WE GET TO THE RAVE THIS PART IS UNIMPORTANT SEEING AS IF YOU HAVE ANY IMAGINATION YOU WILL BE ABLE TO PERFECTLY PICTURE WHAT A FLASH RAVE ON MT. DAVIDSON IS LIKE AND ANYWAYS WHAT DO I SAY "I DANCED A LOT?" OF COURSE I DID ++++++++++++++
??? - the police come and immediately i am split up from all 9843 people i came to the rave with. i'm not scared, just a little perturbed, as i've no idea how the hell to get back to the forest hill station. i try to call wendy but the reception is horrific.
15 minutes later -- after meticulously picking my way down the (increasingly muddy) side of the hill, i run into an old friend of mine; by now i'm legitimately scared so when she bodyslams me with a hug all i can say is "fuck! fuck! fuck! i'm lost! fuck! how do you get to forest hill? fuck!"
3 minutes later - my friend doesn't know and sprints down the hill to catch up with some other people. i call wendy again but to no avail.
2 minutes later - i follow a group of people i don't know, praying to myself that they're not all going to the same party, which would leave me alone and completely without help.
1 minute later - they're all going to the same party.
30 seonds later - or not... there's one ridiculously drunk freshman who's been following me for the past ten minutes or so who apparently hasn't been invited to the party. i ask him his name and how sober he is, and, somewhat satisfied, demand directions on how to get to forest hill. we end up aimlessly wandering around for some time.
10 minutes later - he deposits me at a stop for the 43. i realize that if we had waited perhaps five minutes after arriving at forest hill eariler that evening, we would have been about two feet from a legitimate path up the side of mount davidson.
15 minutes later - after an extremely awkward bus ride, i arrive at forest hill. i have to laugh at the amount of muddy high-school kids there, including me.
1 minute later - i miss the last inbound train and am left alone on the platform. by now it's about 11:00 PM.
20 minutes later (oh, MUNI) - a train comes and i hop it. i take it to the embarcadero, get a ride home, and collapse into bed, not awaking until noon the next day.

(so that's where i went. )

FIN

i'm alive, i swear!
i've loads to do.

prom was actually a little fun. i'm surprised.

ouch.

exactly eleven minutes ago, i wrote the last word on the bleached white paper page of my AP english language prompt booklet.

this won a prize in my photography class yesterday.

i keep having dreams about los angeles, even though i've never been there.

ce soir, moi

je veux je veux je veux

aller a la boum

-------

i am going to do whatever i want. i am living in france this summer and growing out my bleached locks of hair and applying to the school of my dreams. i have pristine white converse that i love with all my heart, i know how to play the piano, i am going to take a million pictures this month, i'm buying a bicycle, i want to write until my hands cramp up and my fingers bleed.

i love music. music makes me so happy i could die.

you know, i never much liked architecture in helsinki

hello lovlies.

here is my prom dress.

and my prom shoes

and my prom "date"

grounded with nothing else to do

i ought to be studying for the SAT, which is tomorrow -- but isn't a poem or two ultimately more intellectually stimulating?

a haiku:

nothing on tv
and i've read all of my books
it's bubble bath time

i suppose i'll go study functions and diligently do my homework now.

or not.

oh you dear readers (are there any of you? blogging is beginning to feel like a lonely endeavor), i promise that this blog will begin to not suck as soon as i can make it remotely possible.

love,

ess

Heat, like a dead weight
Still coverin' the street outside
So heavy that the dogs can't hide
In the hot, hot rays

people need to shut the fuck up. don't whine about something you can't change.

THE BLACK KEYS ++++++ THEE MAKEOUT PARTY AT THE OAKLAND FOX THEATRE

there was once a kid i knew, whose aim icon was flashing lights spelling out

"this is not emo."

he wore white reebok shoes, and had a nose not unlike a squash.

things like that you can't make up.

i'm liking sort of ragged, grungy... well, not that, just sort of loose, not-so-crisp looks. the opposite of the word "crisp" would naturally be "limp," but these clothes are anything but limp. no sharp lines, though, and lots of layers.

my wardrobe has been completely utilitarian lately. this, i hope, will change.

junya tashiro

fur fur

alison mosshart (singer for the kills)

i need a pseudonym. HELP

le dix avril

there is nothing to write about.
il n'y a rien a ecrire.
in precisely one hour, thirty-six minutes and forty seconds, i will be released into the dense wilderness of spring break, off to frolic in the grey, rainy weather. i expect i will be sitting inside with a mug of chai tea, most of the time. working sometimes.
everyone in the city is almost done with their break, so when i need something to do, they'll be back at carved desks in dingy rooms.
it's good friday. what exactly does that entail?

oh the things you get away with

walked from 42nd to 21st, what fun

then bused it

the rave started at 8:30

and at some point we ended up in a laundromat

and met new friends!

who we got donuts with

for all you san francisco people: We Party In Parks organizes it, you go to it, it's good. they even give you glowsticks.

of course, i had a headache this morning, so i stayed in bed till eleven, at which time i rode my bike to larkspur and bought a custard bomboloni. lazy saturday, it could be much worse.

hmm.

it's so cold. you wake up and see sun and put on some shorts, but five minutes later you're back inside, looking for a parka. this is the worst weather, the kind that plays tricks. tonight will be frigid, if i go out, yet as i write this i become increasingly doubtful that i will. there are restrictions that i have to snake around.

i'm craving a bowl of raspberries with whipped cream (handmade, not from a can).

that is the worst thing someone of authority has ever said to me, ever.

i got a detention today and my teacher made me scrape gum off the bottom of a fucking desk, oh well.

also i might get a story published in a month or so. whatever, i don't care about anything right now, i have a roaring headache and it is so fucking cold in this classroom and my copy of nylon hasn't come and i got stung by a hornet yesterday and the guy sitting across from me has a voice like a vacuum cleaner and and and i hate to complain.

asl;ejraklwejr. i can't even right write.

delirious, delirious. do you know when you are? today i went home halfway through my french class because i was shaky and sweaty and when i tried to write, the words wouldn't go onto the paper. the school nurse reveled me with a story about why carrots are orange, even though she was wrong.

i went home and slept for five hours and dreamt of fixies and bunny rabbits and swimming pools. my naps were often interrupted by brief interludes of agitated wakefulness and startling hunger, and when i awoke for the last time at around six the garden outside my window was glowing gold from the sun.

sitting alone in my room, sipping a glass of perrier and eating a roast beef sandwich at 88¢ a pound plus the price of bread. the high life.

i remember that when i got my first belle and sebastian album i hated it. i was fourteen and still into really awful tacky teenage music such as hellogoodbye and top ten; i only got the album because i thought the cd cover was funny. i listened to it and didn't even bother to download it onto my itunes and went back to my rihanna and jt. what else is there to say? now it's good.

flash rave at dolores park, until the popo came and chased us all away. boo.

after that we went to some other park where we saw a parakeet through someone's window.

go here for some photographs (not mine). 

someday i might even upload pictures onto this blog, once there's something interesting to take a picture of.

je suis

sixteen years old cynical literary sloppy quiet/loud

avid redbull drinker and photographer and writer and francophone