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25 May

Hey guys. Been a while, hasn’t it?

Since I’m graduating next Sunday, I’d thought that I should sum up the last few months:
–i was in a play; i played a lot of guitar; i met people; i got a boyfriend; i was kissed; i learned more about myself; i figured out the answers to several conundrums.

I hope you all are ok and aren’t feelin awful.
❤ B.

the end is the end is…

11 Dec

It’s been swell, cos.

nightingale muses

you all have helped me through some rough times. maybe indirectly? maybe unintentionally? Still there. So thanks.

I owe a lot to the following: Lillian, Ryan, Wil/William, oddly enough Jake H, and The Poet (aka Nick Tonckens). Some of you hate me. Some of you love me. And some of you tolerate me, which is all I’m asking for.


–Blare Coughlin.

28 Nov


Pont Neuf, early Sunday morning. He is standing there in a long-sleeved T-shirt and ripped up brownish canvas jeans. He’s staring into the water as if something, something brilliant and boiling and wild, will come out, slap him in the face, and teach him all there is to know.
I’m descending the stairs, freshly sweaty from the heat in the Metro- six stops underground, packed with the hoi polloi like sardines- and weary. It’s been a long time since I returned here; the memories in my bones are growing restless. I want to let them out, to listen, but there are more important matters at hand. I clutch my jacket more tightly around my waist and step faster- the stairs underneath make a clip-clopping noise- until I’m on the Pont itself, just feet away from him.
“Monsieur!” I say. It comes out funny, seeing as the air in my lungs has suddenly frozen the rest of my body into tiny shards of conciousness.
He turns. “Madamoiselle? Qu’est-ce que vous voudrais– ah.”
There is a silence as our eyes meet. He recognises me, obviously- that drunken night in the Marais, confused and out of our minds on a million different hallucinogenics (mainly trust and blind love and lust) that sped us up the stairs to his apartment where we made a mess of his kitchen before organizing ourselves more efficiently and fufilling the duty we’d nearly started right there in the smoking area of the discotheque before being kicked out by the manager. But I digress- the important part, the reason I stopped feeling acid in my veins, was the recognisation.
“Je n’ai pas vous oublié,” he says. I didn’t forget you.
Another strange silence. I don’t want to doubt myself, I can’t doubt myself, but there is a nagging feeling in my heart nonetheless. I want to run off and fling myself into the dirty water below, just to escape this conversation. I won’t, though, because he says:
“alors– qu’est-ce que vous faitez en Paris?” What are you doing in Paris?
I look at him. Still the same. Maybe wearier, maybe sadder, but the aquiline nose is still there, the dark eyes, the longish messy hair. The build- not too skinny, but not broad or
muscular- still there, though he’s getting older and you can tell it in his posture. I suddenly realize he’s asked me a question.
“Uh, pour visiter le cite, quoi autre raison?”
“Pas pour moi?”
I can’t answer him.

i walked?

23 Nov

I find the older I get the more I notice things out of the realm of others’ sight. It is strange and it firmly cements me in my earthly binds, which might be a good thing, I guess, but currently things are confusing me and I can’t seem to find the air I’m swimming towards.
I am lying on a twin-size bed in a house that isn’t really my home but will have to do at least for this week while some people I don’t know go into my house and replace the tiny Mount Vesuviuses of tile that are stuck to the floor. The room that the bed and I are in is a yellowy off-white, probably named something infinitely clever by the company who manufactures it. Probably something like “cloud” or “7th Heaven” or maybe something vaguely angel related: “we have heard on high” comes to mind; or something similar.
More worrying, though (at least to me) are the dreams and general ennui plaguing me involving The Poet. I look into a window and think I see his face- I hope fervently while I work that I’ll look up at one of the tourists and it’ll be his smiling face looking down at me, asking “well, imagine this!” and presently congealing into a lovely conversation. I miss this Poet. I miss him a helluvalot. I want him here, or I want to be there, or something– somehow, I want us to talk again under the leaves of old oak trees, watching water cascade into fountains– or running home in the rain, clutching a hot crepe to our chests.

So many memories. I can’t keep them from flooding my mind.
Wil visited Paris a few weeks ago, I am very jealous. I hope it’s treated him nicely. I hope he went to Rue Vavin and stood there, quiet and pensive. I hope he understands the changes it created in all of us. I hope he knows.

just named you laika

13 Nov

First off, I am deeply contrite for the distinct lack of new content on this blog. School and the Play are reaching apexes at the same time, meaning that I am barely able to keep my eyes open when I return home, much less summon the brainpower to write a marginally intelligent blog post. Again, my deepest apologies.
I am currently lying in bed, fretting about how I’m going to get into the Dive Shop before 9:15, but also feeling really superbly comfortable.
The WordPress app on my iTouch is the worst, most glitchy thing I’ve ever used. It used to be good, but then they updated it and it became intolerable. Augh.

neighborhood #2 (laika)

4 Nov

sorry for titling this post as an arcade fire song, but gottedammerung I have been listening to this song over and over again for about three days and I am going to go nuts.

It is currently sixth period. I am supposed to be doing college prep, but instead I am writing this and dreading next period’s calc test. I might do well? Maybe? I understand part of it. Cameron just started dancing shirtless in Room 2. I fear for the worst.

Well, otherwise- the Poet dreams stopped, at least for now; I hope he still remembers that I exist, but eehhh. I do hope I see him again. Eventually.

ANYway, I’m getting super into a lot of the stuff Tobacco’s doing, it is rather nice sort of pseudo hip-hop. I dig the tracks involving Beck. I want to rap freestyle over them, but as I am 1. white and 2. a lady, that will not go over well. oh and 3. i cannot rap.

For some reason, also, this week is a week full of late-ass play practices. NOT SWELL. NO. I have a shitload of work (mainly due to US History, a class which I shirk and cut corners at every opportunity.) and it’s all essays and shit and aaahhh essays. I hate essays. I HATE THEM.

also now I have a skype, add me if you want, if i know you I will add you back. Yay! it is nannerspy and I look forward to talking to a million people all at once. A MILLION. A MILLLLLION.

will write later, daaahlings.

our powerless fathers

28 Oct

It is strange, this situation. Strange and somehow wrong, intrinsically, but it is the only thing keeping me from falling into some sort of half-despair. Or something: you catch my drift, yes?

In any case, lately I’ve been super paranoid about having people hate me: it is almost a capital punishment. I cannot bear knowing that people I know and respect think so low of me.
Hence the freaking out I am doing over a Nameless, not that it will actually affect me, but I’d like to be on good standings with them because we had a sort of okay friendship that abruptly ceased due to events I was not aware of. And, incidentally, am not aware of even now.

But since it’s not really a problem now (and I don’t expect it to be one any time soon), I’m going to let sleeping dogs lie and deal with it when it becomes one.


famine affair

27 Oct

Due tospending about three hours today working on an Of Montreal contest remix, I have the titular song stuck in my head. It is agony.

Also haven’t been writing much lately, that reason is SENIOR YEAR and by third quarter it will be back to normal updates.

Till then check out my tumblr, or bug me with comments. I will be writing. Less. But still writing.


as strong as you like

24 Oct

Today: real exciting.
so all last night i kept sitting up, fully awake, and just staring into the darkness of my closet until I fell asleep again (and subsequently fell back onto my pillow). It was strange and I hope I can sleep better tonight, but my stomach is gurgling in horrid ways and I sincerely hope it stops.
Anyway! At 11ish I had to go into school for a soundcheck and was subjected to some terrible anti-bully rap/dance routines. That’s supposed to be the theme of the shindig. I am playing Beirut’s “Nantes,” or if I decide last minute that I don’t want to I’ll play something like “2080” and terrify the bastards.
Also! I got my teeth cleaned and stuff!
And then, finally (damn it), I got home and went to the firefighters’ picnic, where I ran into Lil and Rybear and frolicked bout with them and lamented “THERE IS ONLY MEEEEAAATTT” which made me a little distraught.
I then sauntered up to my humble abode, where I taught Ryan how to make meringues, took a lot of photos on his phone, yelled at my sister, kept my dog from licking passersby, snuggleed with Lil, yelled at the Joker, and– well, watched movies and ate meringues and bread. And meat. MEATTTT


20 Oct

I’ve continually deliberating it would be high-minded to should prefer to those water jest shoes against when I do open-air sports such as canoeing and dragon boating. These certain sports shoes serve to deuterium oxide outside sports in particular because of the examination neighbourly apparatus it is made of. When I cease functioning canoeing, I used to either put aside with my bare feet or slippers, but was ever after having problems with both. Being bare-ass footed meant that I sway away mar close any debris that may summarize when I escort on the sand or in the not ring true while getting in or gone from of my canoe. When I sport slippers, sometimes it really gets in the road when my feet descend in the mud during low-lying tide. It was when my slipper got stuck when I knew I had to organize an open-air sports relaxation shoes. I decided to remember of it as a stupendous investment as it would ways gambler and cleaner feet. I don’t recognize why I didn’t think of getting such sport shoes in the senior place. I conjecture it was because my impression of sport shoes was unceasingly for running, and not for other out of doors sports.

So when I saw the == on, I was indeed stable I wanted it. Not merely can I wheedle a great tandem of outdoor shoes in place of my water sports, I can bear a fivefingers one! Not unswerving why they call it fivefingers despite the fact that, since as a matter of fact the wear shoes is in the shape of your five toes. This enables a better dominion on where you walk, which is firstly great pro walking on the beach and shallow waters. I’ve forever been a devotee of “fivefingers” or toe socks, so this green outdoor shoes of wealth is making me more fervid with my weekend outdoor sports endeavor.

=== steady made me a happy camper this but, letting me own this celebrated pair of sport shoes reasonable when I needed it. I’ve bought other lifestyle gadgets from but this is the before time I bought sport shoes from any online shopping site. I without exception brown study it unsurpassed to have a stab on any shoes, be it diversion shoes, leather shoes, slippers, etc. or else you won’t be sure whether it’s a great fit. Setting aside how, I couldn’t at the end of the day arouse wares deuterium oxide out of doors sports divertissement shoes, so this get back has undoubtedly enhanced my shopping happening, or my online shopping as a whole.

With it when I go past for my weekly canoeing or dragon boating, my teammates are all pretty amused before my fivefingers flaunt shoes, and stare at them looking for some time. I divine the toe-shaped relaxation shoes makes it look like a cobweb of some throw, but it’s not like I can swim in these fivefingers shoes. I’m discovery the alfresco sports shoes dialect right comfortable, and although I cannot beat a hasty retreat with it as I would with predictable constant distraction shoes, at least I can go out on strike along the pontoon or coast arena in plenty, atypical when I hand-me-down to shamble barefooted. My feet tempered to to hurt or communicate with scorched from the fervid clay, but not with these fivefingers recreation shoes I don’t. Take a look at the pictures to undertake how the fivefingers out of doors sports sport shoes look like from the cork and bottom.


the above is a frigging awesome spam comment I got a few days ago. Whoever wrote it needs to get a better translator, because whichever one they’re using really sucks.

“dragon boating?”