oh, renoir

Takes notes from a movie box Make a list of what I need Remember who you are, remember who you are But then, I can't feel good about anything And just when i get something started I read or hear something, that makes me forget My confidence or honesty What are my motives are they selfless enough, Are they righteous, righteous enough? Then before I get started, I get all fucked up Can't get sick of thinking about meaning or language or anything that gets me hot Make up who you are, it makes up who you are Then I found myself dancing alone in my room I was writing in my journal, playing records When i felt my shoulders slide from side to side I found the bass in my hips Being alone brings courage and strength of mind Take off your shirt and watch TV Remember who you are, and make up who you are But then I just want a public place Where girls can meet each others stare Sometimes that's what it takes just to know you're alive To feel yourself burning just from some girl's stare My that's a strange costume Slip your fingers under my belt Put up signs to make up who you are Send out signals telling who you are Transmit messages about who you are No matter who you are
--team dresch - remember who you are

nocturne communique/nocturnal e-mission
a particular place called party: a dissatisfied dreamer awakes, goes out in the night seeking 'a light' and is drawn through the needle's eye. a dream of a dream, he returns to bed less empty than before. he returns to bed with an invisible arm round his waist. seduced, abandoned, and left in tatters.

textual relations/e-ruptions
make-up is a weapon. it's all over my face. the formative difference is that between reading and recital. whether or not a text is provided you that you are capable of recalling and recollecting without recourse to its origin. the point at which mediation has become naturalized. could recital be forced? fruit in a red liquid forced down yr throat only for the release in seeing it issue forth from yr mouth.

in dreams (february)
we have been fed ecstasy so that we could be pornographically filmed fucking. (peaks)

we are in a class on film making. she is drunk and dancing on a table. i am concerned she is going to knock over the wine.

a bakery box full of puppies.

you own a building of white space. delicately scrawled in black pencil, the labels of that which each room contains.

LOOK!
franko b
blur - this is a low
anne carson - stacks
decoder
examined life
flying lotus
manifesto for a left turn
mjolk
klaus nomi - total eclipse
our broken garden - when yr blackening shows
siouxsie - kiss them for me
gore vidal

LISTEN!
bat for lashes - daniel
bell
cursive - from the hips
cursive - i couldn't love you
greta + the one night stands
nice n wild - diamond girl
stevie nicks - sleeping angel
paps
two white horses
venice is sinking
yo la tengo - cherry chapstick