La lingua de Katia

La lingua de Katia The writings of a child from a thousand different parents

Wednesday, April 21, 2004

hmmm

I don't really understand what I am suppose to blog about for this week. I read the sentence in class today but aside I cannot determine its meaning.

Meta4

Writing is like a fine crafted shoe. The thick rubber is the soul behind the story. The tongue is the characters voice while the logo represents a unique style. Each type of shoe whether it be pump, clog, sneaker, loafer, sandel, wingtip or boot represents the different genres of writing. See they all are worn on the feet but each are worn by certain individuals whereas a story is merely comprised of words yet the completed effect satisfies a multitude of different readers.

54geesus

"You scorn me for the very reason you love me."
"Mother please." her son Alex mumbled under his breath.
"What did you say?" His mother leaned in, bits of chocolate wafer were stuck between her bottom teeth.
"Nothing." he forced his hung head upright looking in her eyes then rose to leave the room.
"Well- good then."
She seemed satisfied and began shining the metal coffee table as ifnot satisfied until her own imaged shined back at her.
Despite his attempt to end their conversation she continued on.
"Well I don't see what the problem is, I mean most kids would be thankful to get a car for their big one six."
"Mom can we just drop this please?" He twisted the end of his green flannel shirt to cover his fists that had balled from anger. "I like the car."
"Well good."
He wanted to leave it at that, he knew he should of left it at that but a tiny demonic voice slithered out from his vocal box.
"So when can I change the plates?" He said casually leaning against the door frame.
His mother straightened, her back turned to him yet he could picture her lips curling into an aggitated purse. She swung around on the heel of her shoe and shot the oily wrag at him. It missed and splatted against her pristine white wall which only furthered her disgust. She charged at her son and grabbed at his earlobe, pinching the delicate skin between her thumb and forefinger.
"WHAT did you say?" she spat
He tried to wriggle from her grasp but his ear only shone redder.
"Mom, mom please you are hurting me?" He squirmed and felt foolish beneath his mother.
"But Samuel, you are hurting me and you are hurting the LORD by doubting his gift!" She cursed pushing the boy away from her and toward the Jesus shrine the served as the room's center piece.
He fell to his knees without her inflicted force.
"Now good", she said straightening her navy dress "I want five hail Marys and four Lord's prayer. Do you understand me?"
"Yes ma'am."
"That's my angel." she pressed forward and kissed his tuffet of blonde locks.
As he mouthed the prayers he stole one last glimpse from the bayer window at the brand new honda in the front of their drive way and swallowed his sin as he eyed the novely plate that read 54geesus.
hail mary, lords prayer

Sunday, April 18, 2004

I'm tired

I tired of writing. I have sat here for the past couple of hours revising my fuller figure story and paying around with the Everett story but I just don't feel like writing. I really don't. I read the stories for this week but I hate writing critiques. I just don't understand the point of the exercise because it feels like I am doing the same thing twice. I write out what I think then I have to share out loud what I have already written and I realize that I am just reading off of my paper. So then why do I talk at all in class?

Jane is asleep in the red chair. She is wearing an orangish cap. black betty page wig, a frayed mini skirt and an oversized knit sweater.

I am in the same pair of jeans since yesterday, Matt's orange shirt that is too snug for him and too loose for me, a pink faded puma sweatshirt,

All I want to do is lie in bed and be held.

I just returned from my attack. I spotted em walking by and I sprung from my seat, raced out the door and pounced on his back.

Wednesday, April 14, 2004

TOTALLY FUCKED

I can't fucking believe this, I started off so well I emailed in my poems, read all the stories for this week and got a huge chunck of my paper done but I still didn't finish! Currently I am frantically writing critiques and wailing inside because I didn't fucking finish my damn paper. what the hell! I skipped ballet, class and was almost dragged to guitar center(missing Forman's class) I still don't know if it is a good idea to attend because I think I may be suffering from an anxiety attack!
help

Tuesday, April 13, 2004

Alas, the times are changing

Kate: With all this candy, what is the difference between Easter and Halloween. I mean kids don't even have to dress up and rack in so much candy!
Andrew: I know. I don't really remember this much candy. I mean HOW does one explain ALL of this?
Kate: Simple. Fat kiddies are taking over the world and one little chocolate bunny, it ain't gonna satisfy them.
Andrew: These are sad, sad, sad times...


Andrew: See God has spoken to me numerous times and yet I continue to ignore him.
Kate: Yeah I know what you mean, I was catholic when I was little...

I need a title

Pale yellow lace…
Once a French Frock,
A petticoat tattered above,
Her scabs are knees
that catch on concrete.
She weeps out from her hole
but no one’s interested in the show.

Monday, April 12, 2004

What has happened?

Well I've neglected the good ole blog, but don't fret little bloggy, it is not just you! As of right now I am about a month maybe two behind in my responses, a paper short for death, the entire reading since the midterm for death is yet to be cracked, Mr. L.A just assigned a new paper topic, and I have not written any poems for my poetry class in over two months!
So what does little missy do in her free time? She didn't fax in her character breakdowns today and she has yet to email her bio to the film school. It can't be her internship because she starts that tomorrow, so what?
I'm losing my memory...
Thursday-passover. Ate flat bread and downed vino
Friday-facial, laundry, Maury(my son is now a woman, please give him a makeover so he can be the man he was born to be), Studio=played bass. there was Anthony(the singer), Jacquline(his girlfriend), Brian(Mr. Strings) and Matt "bam bam" Whalen. What a band. I taught Matt how to box step waltz. Anthony's house had beer and we stayed for a good hour.
Saturday-baked cakes, created banna cream cheese cake to take to easter, Studio(again)=played bass till my fingers turned black, got red in the face when Matt wouldn't let me bang on his kit. After. Brian made Matt and I dinner. We watched the Road to blah blah blah. I was bored and made jokes throughout the screening(could have been the jack talking or maybe the sugar in the coke)
Sunday-Happy Easter. Dance, Matt and I spilled onto my mother's door step at exactly 10 am. BOOYAH. Swam, drank, ate, baked, drank, drank, drank...passed out. The kiddies looked for eggs. Matt got a little red in the face from the champagne and Dance had to stop drinking before she collapsed. The cool water of the pool was sobbering to say the least and by cool I mean ICE COLD. After, Matt, Matt(my brother), Dance, Sophie and I went to see Fallen Angels, there was a scene where a guy was massaging a flayed pig. I liked it. Sure it was no Kungching express but it was good. Ate where Sophie wanted to eat even though the rating said "B" I have cleanlyness issues and B resturants give me the creeps. Let me clue you in on something. NEVER EAT AT A B! I worked at an A resturant and it was friggind disgustin back there but imagine what lurks in the kitchen of a B. I can't even fathom it.
----------------------------------sidetracked
Sunday night-we parted ways, went home (Matt's house) then drove to school to attend a production meeting where the directed failed to show. UNBELIEVABLE. The only reason I am working on this project is because I don't want to let Tyler down. But honestly, the story sucks. I mean it is terrible. And here I was last night, tired, worn out from the sun, sitting in a cramped conference room with a bunch of film geeks at 10:45 pm when I have an 8 am ballet class...

Monday- well here we are...
What classes did you attend today?
Oh ballet you say?
well what happened to the death class?
I'll be surprised if you pass.
Were you just feeling lazy
Oh your stomach was going crazy
well don't consume so much dairy
your intestines will get hairy
and puke will spring from you nose
causeing you to make a revoling pose.
Is that an old friend that I do spy
A friend? You left high and dry?
Why yes it is, better duck down
before she punches you in the crown.

ok so that's about where I am right now in my life. I am tired all the time, I barely have the energy to pek at tehese keys...
but at least it is a post and what a post

Wednesday, April 07, 2004

The rise of the coffeshop

well there goes that, I was going to stop in for the unscheduled class but didn't want to walk from leavy all the way over to the Ragazzi room. Do you know that Ragazzi means BOYS in Italian? Anywho I have been productive this past hour and sent in many resumes to companies unwilling to pay me. Gosh how does one survive in L.A. I think I need to get me one of those magic lucky rocks or something.

Tuesday, April 06, 2004

SoMeThing New

Here is a conversation I had exactly eight minutes ago with Ben(a freshman frat boy from my Death class)
Ben: Wow look at you. You were so classy for a while and now I see that you are back to your original self...

I wonder what he is referring to, oh wait I know! It must be because I am in black and red thigh highs, a plaid red/black/gold mini skirt, a torn up wife beater and a sweatshirt that reads, "Fourstar Moron." Also I have painted my lips mud red and penciled dragonesq eye makeup around my peepers. Yeah, ok so I have been dressing a little more conservatively lately but you know how it goes one fight with a boyfriend resurrects the rebel girl within, or at least that is how it is with me.
Last night I left Leavy in tears. Matt and I got into a fight where apparently I was overacting, no wait it is over reacting. It was the first night in forever that I did not have the option to stay at his house. I slept in my own bed and guess what returned? My insomnia. Hello old friend I said, would you like to stay up for a chat? And to my expect he replied, ol' chap there is nothing that I would like more in the world. So there you have it, we giggled like school girls and weeped like old maids up into the wee hours of morning until his pity party could no longer stay and he left me to slumber on my own

Monday, April 05, 2004

What makes Kate stressed?

1. Writing a coherent resume.
2. Finding out that her housemate broke her vacuum after she specifically said don't use my fucking vacuum.
3. People who talk in the computer lab.
4. Having to write responses to classmates' stories.
5. Realizing that she is over qualified for most internship and under qualified for most assistant level positions.
6. Unreliable cars named Raquel.
7. Not being able to spell her car's name properly.
8. Writing in third person.
9. Not spending time with her home girls.
10. Spending too much money.
11. Her dirty, stink pitt that she calls home.
12. DAYLIGHT SAVINGS!!!! ---who the hell is it saving?

little help

Finally they left, no wait the other guy just called his friend back into the computer lab. I am so fricken frustrated, they are not even trying to cover their voices but rather talking at a normal volume in the computer lab. Now granted I do type loudlyu but these three dudes have been blabbing back and forth for the past 20 minutes. AHHHHHHHHH

Friday, April 02, 2004

Right in the Kisser

So for the last 48 minutes I have been looking up free pie recipes. Out of the blue Matt says we should make a pie, so now we are gonna make a pie but I had no idea how many different types of pies were out there. Seriously I have been reading pie reviews, comparing different crusts to others and it kinda reminds me of car shopping. I mean if we are going to scramble together a pie fund since we have non of the ingredients and take the time to actually make the damn thing then this pie better be pretty fuckin amazing. I think I have settled on making a strawberry pie or a blueberry/blackberry pie. It's strange I am just not in a choco kinda mood.
The British guy next to me in the library overheard my plans of piedom and is convienced that I am a very "CULTIVATED" for being American...making friends...he asked if I was trying to impress anyone and I just shook my head because I know that Chief boy are dee Matt is gonna end up making the pies and I am gonna be on dish duty. But what do I care, I still get to reap the sweet rewards with a piece o pie

"I've got blisters on my fingers!"

Well actually it is more of a callous and it is on my palm, BUT STILL! Matt gave me a drum lesson and made me cry because I am no good. He threw a drumstick that bounced off my head; we have never been closer.

On another note:
I am convinced that my guest author wants me to be hated and that is really the glue that binds us together because I want every one to adore him.

I am so easily distracted, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my friend Ben. We chatted it up and then Ben said:
Ben: ok enogh, talking to you is depressing
Kate's comments: great, just great, I'm glad I have that affect on people.

tonight I am meeting up with my friend Ryan and we are going to see HELLBOY. RARRRRRAR. I want to dress up in red and wear red eye makeup. I am kinda bummed since I haven't bought my wig yet.
ok taking Ben's advice enogh is enough