?

Log in

sonnet #52 de monsieur shake-shaft
So am I as the rich whose blessèd key
Can bring him to his sweet up-lockèd treasure,
The which he will not every hour survey,
For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure.
Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare,
Since, seldom coming, in that long year set,
Like stones of worth they thinly placèd are,
Or captain jewels in the carcanet.
So is the time that keeps you as my chest,
Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide,
To make some special instant special-blest
By new unfolding his imprisoned pride.
Blessèd are you whose worthiness gives scope,
Being had to triumph, being lacked to hope.
Links:
i. memoirs ii. *pop* icons iii. deviant (T)ART iv. poetrees portfolio v. l'arc en ciel
mes misadventures
 123456
78910111213
14151617181920
21222324252627
28293031
06 mai 2006 @ 11:17 . . .
i hate that i have to make such a post as this.
but, get with the pro-gram, mes chers. i move-ed.

>> locksmithy

i meeess some of you who may in turn be missing out.

pee ess/edit :: and what you'll be missing out on i think is pretty much what's going on be-low. ha-yuk.

cette entrée déliceuse...
clutch to the bosom!
22 avr 2006 @ 13:42 that in gold clasps locks in the golden story
RIP little jojofaerie, it's been grand.
i created this place 2002-05-12 at 17:04:07, and now tis time to move onward.
thanks to everyone who's met me through this crazy site, come to know me through this, my first lj and hung around.

i don't know when this week i'll get around to properly rejoining communities and adding everyone back, so please be patient with me and feel free to add...

>> locksmithy

new email too ~ buccaneer.sonneteer(at)gmail.com

ta, loves
cette entrée déliceuse...
clutch to the bosom!
17 avr 2006 @ 22:05 just call me dreadless mc-gee.
if music be the food of love, play on: all my little words :: magnetic fields (in m'head)
Tags:
achtung! :: if you're seeing this post, you are not currently in attendence at brandeis and therefore you are sworn to super-secrecy as the following photos are for your eyes only, so that i can make a sneakysneaky grand en-trance in a week 'pon my return to school. (unlocked on 4/28)

you see on saturday (4/15), i cut my dreadlocks off.

*gasp* yep. i never ever thought i'd see the day i'd be making such a post, but here we are. i thought about it and freaked out about it muchly beforehand, and i've never felt prettier in my life, by golly. thanks so much for all the support i've received in my 6 years of dreadery, much of it coming from you fine folk. in fact, if you've only known me on lj or since 2002 (when i got this here journal), you've never known me any other way. so it's been a blast, and this may be my last or near to it post in this livejournal as with this transition i'm going to be moving activity elsewhere. so stay tuned. and now ~ pictures.


*be-fore (from my one-last-huzzah-with-the-hair shoot that you'll be seeing much more from, some were with me only wearing ze locks in the woods! scandale!)


*and af-ter (my twenties are going to be everso 1920's, i prophecize)

>> see mo'Réduire )
cette entrée déliceuse...
the opera-house stray
10 avr 2006 @ 23:22 . . .
in other news...
my favourite library nook/carrel (sp?) has had its graffiti attemptedly scrubbed off.
no more virginity survey. pfft.

or my freshman inkings of 'ahavah' like the good ivritspeakin crunchy chick i was.
cette entrée déliceuse...
ofanim be my speed
10 avr 2006 @ 16:17 . . .
la madame-quoi-selle est: *pop*
y'like my locks?
take 'em in good and long the next time you see me.
this pondering of the chopping is perhaps getting serious.
cette entrée déliceuse...
clutch to the bosom!
09 avr 2006 @ 01:24 . . .
if music be the food of love, play on: crazy for this lady?! in my head, appropriately
as of tonight i have received twenty-three e-love letters from a man on the internet who only knows me from one of my random site profiles. i have never responded to these notes i get pseudo-regularly, from anywhere between several times a week to perhaps a month apart ever since last october. every single note seems unperturbed by the lack of response and without reference to my silence. they are short, misspellt and occasionally clumsily lurid. sometimes he just tells me what he's up to. "making a dear skin suit" or "going to meditate at a budhist monastary." he has regularly invited me to build a tipi on his land in woodstock, NY.

i'm a little frightened that when i receive new email from him...i don't really react anymore.
i also wonder if i should be flattered, or merely note this delusionally devoted behaviour i get now and again. boop.
cette entrée déliceuse...
(on the face) idiomatique ivrit
08 avr 2006 @ 03:59 . . .
la madame-quoi-selle est: how is it not yet sunday?
if music be the food of love, play on: grad ventilation talking to itself
tuesday night >> i was driven home by a bran van driver at 1 AM that was in fact wearing a banana suit. it turned out 6 hours of working and reading purgatorio in the library did not have me hallucinating. he also seemed to know me/my name, i apologized and asked how. he said, "oh, you know. duct tape...rocky horror?"

tonight >> during the spring rocky horror show an elderly lady in the audience said, "aw, honey you better take that tape off of you in the shower." i assured her i was an old hand. i double side my X's, thank you very much.


p.s. a gallery guard at the fogg made me cry this afternoon.
cette entrée déliceuse...
the opera-house stray
02 avr 2006 @ 23:34 . . .
if music be the food of love, play on: broken social scene (m'first listen-through)
sheryl told me i needed an intervention. i don't want it to come to that. so i think i should just confess...

this week i have been binging on:
stage makeup
curry
improv
crushing

and to-day i dipped back into that horrible habit...
music piracy.

heh heh. madonna's complete discography what? alas, i'm using my ol' dell for this business, and it has only 5g left on it. so that'll have to wait. 80g powerbook, how i long to...ab/use you better. soon my sweet. mr. mike-k i need mac osx torrent help eventuallement.

time for dante comma baby

p.s. i have ridiculous amounts of space on my ipod and haven't got-ten new music in aeons. everyone recommend a band + an album of theirs you think i don't have but should. i am not hip enough, help me i'm bombarded by mtv U when i'm in the gym!
cette entrée déliceuse...
(on the face) idiomatique ivrit
01 avr 2006 @ 20:52 . . .
if music be the food of love, play on: ella fitzgerald
i am a forgetful girl. i should remember that i am a sometimes-hypochondriac. perhaps i subconsciously believe i am going to die of a terrible untreated ailment. i have a mysterious bug bite on my ankle and two inches below it is swollen with who knows what allergy reaction or too cute too biting lady shoes all week did me in. i'm scared of summer because that's when the mosquitoes come and that's when my scary big allergic reactions to them do too. i'm overheated and a bit out of it. i not-so secretly suspect i was bit by the big black ants, i've spotted three in my grad to-day. part of me knows i am not dying of an allergic reaction and reminds the other me that my foot/ankle doesn't even hurt. but i'm working myself up anyway. i wonder when i'll call my mother and let her know i'm panicking myself.

when i'm tired i feel like i have a fever. i have been half dressed most of the day. i seem capable of only wearing pants or a shirt by themself.

macbeth ended last night. my shiner never looked better in act 1 scene 2. and my hecate butterfly cheeks leave me looking artistically rouged, and rather like i have two week old/healed black eyes today. i was in heaven half the time backstage and in the green room, the other half was rather gds high schol theater PTSD flashback-y. then i got caught somewhere between the past and the present and then i went onstage again to yell. i went to joseph's two for brunch with the sweet peeps this morning, i haven't been there since the most negative experience i've ever had with regards to my dreads a year+ ago. it was uneventful with regards to harassment but wonderful with regards to the one-day-professor company. we'll teach at shanu u. hannasthesia. i dressed like a hungover movie star. maybe i am one. maybe that's why i'm rambling. i think i like being overheated as much as being nauseated.

on thursday i did shots of pepto bismol with powerade on the green in front of the library. today i lost the measuring cup and was swigging it in the kitchen straight like it was a flask.

last night i went to a midnight shabbas dinner without underwear on.
one of you knew that line was coming.
cette entrée déliceuse...
lipstick on the spatula
26 mar 2006 @ 12:12 . . .
:: telling morning-zombie secrets.
weekday mornings i get up usually an hour before i have to be anywhere, and by that i mean 15 minutes before i'm actually due wherever there is. with my eyelashes and my hood and my sunglasses on.

on weekends i sleep until 11 or noon at the earliest. i slept until 1pm yesterday. i think i get the most/best writing done on weekend 'mornings' before i've changed out of my pajamas, before i've had anything except coffee, before i've showered, before i've left the apartment. perhaps i'm in my element as the ugly-morning-cretin, the hermit. i believe only one person has every interacted with this beast. it seems to be a rare time-space-coninuum version of me that doesn't happen at home/port, dc.


this week: seeing/meet-ink alix olson, alice in wonderland party behaviour darting out of every available door, delusionally tired = super cheap date, no drinks required! my mum's veeseet + chillaxin' with all my advisors (ha, calm, right), paintin' my nekkid friends into teenage mutant ninja turtles (stoled keara links, though i'm not yet in any photos posted, i forget whose camera got me in compromising butt-painty and latex trimming from the naughty-bits positions), macbeth run-through's w/ paparazzi outbursts, watching the 1961 'parent trap' while puttering about yesterday was really surreal and full of nostalgia-blah, and last night featured a hot date with my mum's shrink-crew at an avant garde food sculpture-esque trendy restaurant where we were served our main course at 10:30. me and the fogies were definitely barely up for all that. 'lady is a tramp' was a very apt first song to listen to yester-morn.

p.s. i like retro adverts too much.
cette entrée déliceuse...
clutch to the bosom!