we've moved!

a_nun06 will henceforth be known as xandra_k.

visit. now.

for all those familiar with ginsberg...a tribute, by an ameteur poet who's name escapes me at the moment....i've shortened it up quite a bit and kept my favorite lines, because in the true "howl" fashion, this thing goes on for years but it's REALLY good. real and dark and funny just like the original. i love love love it.

"howl '97"

I saw the best minds of my generation -- I mean, my friends -- destroyed by Zima, hysterical, belching, dragging themselves through suburban streets at dusk looking for an au lait,

whippet-headed hamsters burning for the ancient heavenly erection with the stars of retro in the machinery of keen,

who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their laundry in wastebaskets to be like Trent Reznor and listening to Minidiscs through the wall,
who got busted in their pubic beards for what the hell is a pubic beard jesus Ginsberg a grip man we've just started Laredo and something else obscure with a belt of Nirvana for New York,

yammering screaming vomiting whispering stats and data and anecdotes and lines from *Swingers* and twinned Jacques, torpor and bars

who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and floundered in oxymoronic purgatory for letting those guys into the house,

who blew and were blown by human seraphim, whoever they are,

who copulated on Ecstasy and insatiate with a bottle of Odwalla a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a candle if goth and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall that is to say jactitating without apology over pale hardwood and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt that to my mind must be something akin to an overarching labia twelve stories high slouching towards Malibu to be born,
who nodded out because they had yet to hear that heroin wasn't trendy anymore and woke to a sudden Manhattan placed before them by a bartender in Trenton,
who created great suicidal dramas because Kurt, like, saw the truth about things,

who wept at the romance of the streets with its pushcarts full of trash because they'd never had to worry about actually living there, among the people that sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge and rose up to relieve themselves occasionally,
who coughed on the sixth floor of Macy's crowned with DKNY under the avuncular sky,
who scribbled all night rocking and rolling, why yes they were bohemians, just ask them, *visionaries*, that's what they were,
who plunged themselves into the fray to secure a stageside spot at 311 shows,
who threw their watches off the roof because what was time anyway for now when I look at you I see myself when I look at you I see my world it's all black and white and you look like a model,
who cut their wrists three times unsuccessfully because they knew how to get attention, gave up, and were forced to open cafes at 6 AM
who were burned alive in this stanza it being one of those vengeful stanzas about the Man again and that damn System it's killing us all & the tanked up clatter of the aluminum regimen of fashion & the nitrous oxide yawns of the fairies of advertising & the flatulence of left-handed intelligent editors, intelligence is so stifling,
who logged off the Net this actually happened and walked away unknown and without alias into the ghostly clamor of Mission Street to get a burrito but arrived there to find the pollo asada unholy and not even a free beer

with the virtual heart of the poem of life nowhere to be found without modem, good to sleep a thousand years.

hi, again.

the less frequent blogging makes them all that more meaningful, doesn't it?

summarization of life as of late: alex scribbles in her drama notebook in an attempt to organize rehearsal plans while housing the american idol hopeful shane as they hang out in san jose eating chicken salad and sucking on starbucks before going home to bake cupcakes for billy's school's rummage sale ignoring petty social turmoil with non-camp friends whom she misses very much but is able to forget for a little while at ferg's show. oh, and i dyed my hair black.

yesterday, my mom, my brother and i went to the dollar store to find cheap cupcake mix and the like for the rummage sale on sunday. the girl behind the counter (looking very much like a cud-chewing cow with a gigantic wad of pink gum in her jaw) started scanning our items. she picked up a baking pan and ran it under the scanner, but nothing happened. she ran it under again. then again. still, the light didn't flash and the beep didn't sound. her brow furrowed. a little bead of sweat formed on her temple. her eyes were narrowed and her teeth gritted. SCAN, DAMN YOU. SCAN. i could practically hear her desperate thoughts. we were at the dollar store. how on earth would she know how much this baking pan cost? how, in god's name, would she know?? would anyone come to her rescue in this small and remote dollar store where everything is at the outrageous price of one dollar to help her find the mysterious price of this BAKING PAN? i saw her eyes dart away from the scanner for a moment, letting them rest for a split second on the dozen or so other baking pans we were purchasing. she looked away. suddenly, heaven's light shined down upon her, and her realization was nothing short of divine intervention. she layed down the baking pan and picked up another, turning it over beneath her awe-strucken face. could it be-- was this baking pan an exact equal? it was. her jaded hands slowly moved it under the scanner, afraid they would be decieved once more. and then.....a beep! a magnificent flash of red light! hallelujiah! lo and behold.....one dollar. the pan was one dollar. so inexpensive....so convenient.....it seemed too good to be true. but it was not! to her amazement, everything was a dollar! glory! glory! GLORY!

i love los banos.

back for a breif moment. the internet is....not coming along so quickly. but never fear.

updates in alex world. guess who's gonna be timoune in the pag's fall production of 'once on this island'?  think it's me? well, heck yes i am!!!! :)

got my first a+ on a math test too.

and....mm.....shaney shane shane (my camp buddy) is coming to cali tomorrow (if the plan's stuck) to start his new and exciting life in l.a.. stay tuned to find out if this young hopeful really gets his big break, which quite possibly could be on american idol in frisco on the third. got my fingers crossed. but if not, at least we'll get to hang out as he passes through.

i miss camp. i miss christy. call me, goddamit, you said we'd talk later like....a week ago, and i'm gettin antsy.

tomorrow is yom kippur and rose and sarah and i are celebrating. it's like christmas, only better!! i'm not quite sure what yom kippur is, and if anyone would like to fill me in please do.

i miss xanga. i find myself lying on my bed now, staring up at the ceiling and pondering too many deep questions that should never be pondered as they have been over-pondered by the great ponderers of the past. last night i put on acoustic incubus ala gerald and felt artsy as i did some yoga. then i decided to shoot myself in the face because i just admitted that i enjoy partaking in the occasional yoga, especially since camp and all (i miss early morning ballet sessions). but i figured i should share so that you can all get some kind of idea of the things i do now in my deprivation.

*weep, weep, sob sob.*

do you ever think about the word 'cool'? it's really not all that hip-sounding. it's actually kind of lame. why do we say something so dumb?

see what i mean?

anyway. i'm out. see ya. 

Good habits are not made on birthdays, nor Christian character at the New Year. The workshop of character is everday life. The uneventful and commonplace hour is where the battle is lost or won.

--Malthie D. Babcock

too many big words? alex offers a simple solution: ha. the last part of her name is cock.

<marquee> EUPHORIA: RETURNING SOON!     EUPHORIA: RETURNING SOON!      EUPHORIA: RETURNING SOON!         why does this sound like we're all waiting on the edge of our seats for some acid?<marquee>

i miss this thing. i can only get on in rare and beautiful moments in the computer lab at school when i should be doing more productive things. johnny milba, i miss you. everyone else....well, your xangas suck, and i don't miss them much because quite frankly the daily "i did nothing but write on this piece of shit about how i did nothing" is boring.

waiting for the gratification and the petty reassurance of a 'just kidding', are you?! well it's not happening this time!

.....okay, just kidding. gimme a break, i wanna KEEP friends.

au revoir.