can i have your attention please

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***
if anyone wants to go see this play with me, please let me know-- The History Boys at the Mark Taper Forum. it was also made into a movie and the play itself has won numerous tony awards-- i've been wanting to see it forever.

here's the trailer for the movie:

as you can see, it's won the most tony's in the past half-century, and the cast of the movie is the actual cast of the play.
dominique, i think you'd adore this. and lily too (it in L.A.-- near MOCA!).













so.
english class is pathetic.
our latest assignment is to write a "future scenario," to write down our ambitions and whatnot and detail the rest of our lives.
is someone can see a connection between this task and furthering our abilities in writing and analyzing literature, please tell me.

here's mine:
(like i said. i have no idea what on earth this will do to help us in english.)

Future Scenario for Gina Hong

After graduating in 2009, I will attend Northwestern University as a pre-law student double majoring in linguistics and political science. If my schedule allows for additional courses, I will take a minor in communications or physics. While studying as an undergrad, I will also work as a freelance writer for various cultural and political periodicals in order to pay for my education. Continuing this work and gaining more and more work experience as journalist, I will graduate from Northwestern and then move on to attend Columbia University to attain my juris doctor degree, after which I will be fully qualified to practice as a lawyer. However, I will not pursue that profession, having obtained a lawyer’s education in order to garner beneficial information for my future career. At this point, I will enter Princeton University to study at their Woodrow Wilson School for International Relations. Eventually, I will earn a Ph. D in international relations while working as an intern at the United Nations in New York, only a train ride away from Princeton, New Jersey. By the time I complete my first Ph. D, I will be, at most, 35 years old.

After concluding this relatively extensive course of education, I will hold a postdoctoral position as a researcher for the United Nations and focus on the branches of global diplomacy and international communication. After a year of being thus employed, I will work as a French and Korean interpreter for the United Nations for two to five years before fully dedicating myself to international diplomacy. I will attain a post as an ambassador for the United States to a continental European country and after serving in this station for a decade, I will return to the U.N. to work as a member of the United States division in the U.N. Security Council. In this council, I will serve for ten years, committing myself to peace and security in the global community. At this point in my life, I will be around 60 years old and finally ready to pursue my final career goal—a judge on the International Court of Justice. Such judges hold nine-year terms and are eligible for reelection. I hope to be reelected at least once, therefore and at the end of my career, I will be at least 78.

If, by that time, I have not tired of furthering my intellectual spectrum, —and I highly doubt that I will ever feel that way, I will retire from my career and settle down to be a student once more. However, I will continue my education in Paris, seeing that I plan to move to Montmartre, a small village in the eighteenth arrondissement. As a part-time student of the Collège de Sorbonne, I will steadily work towards another Ph. D in European Literature. During the day, I will continuously work as a writer, freelancing for literary, fashion, and political magazines and newspapers, and also publishing a few collections of original poems. Taking annual trips to Africa, Asia, and South America during the summer, I will enjoy the rest of my life in a Parisian apartment with cultured, intelligent friends and extensive collections of books, movies, and clothes. In my free time I will revert to painting, working with clay, swimming, writing, reading, and visiting museums. By the time I am 85, I will boast another Ph. D and the position of a professor of literature, political science, English, or physics at a relatively prominent university in Paris. I will most likely only be able to teach for a decade or so before I die of exhaustion and old age.

I will, however, pass on in a satisfied manner, having accomplished a significant amount of good for the world and contributed as much as I could to keeping peace amidst the international community. In the last years of my life I will allow myself to be selfish, indulging in the aspects of culture in which my interests will never fade: music, fashion, art, and literature. I hope to be able to attend numerous exhibitions, concerts, theatrical performances, and even poetry readings as an old, decaying woman. I will live with one dog and a cat; the former will be a jack russell terrier named Da Vinci and the latter will be a tabby named Antigone. In regard to my marital status, I hope to remain unmarried for the rest of my life and to not bear any children. If, later on, I desire I child, I will opt for adoption, but I consider that an unlikely prospect. Perhaps I will have a host of companions, several years older than my while I am young, and then much younger than me when I am older, but I will never enter marriage. The only way I will ever marry is if Damien Rice offers me a proposal. For the vast majority of my life I will serve, dedicated and focused, for an admittedly unattainable goal of world peace. I will die knowing that I played my part in trying to foster harmony between nations. After my death, I will be cremated and my ashes will be spilled into Le Seine, as will be requested in my will. My belongings will be equally dispersed between my younger sisters and I will have a grave marker next to those of my parents.

a slight return and a violent attack

.







the work does not end.











the wind blew with a certain carelessness towards allowing the leaves to remain static. the white laundry on the wet cord outside flapped like open mouths with deep sounds of fabric warring with the breeze. the window was not warm. i looked outside through the glass, and wondered if the wind was cold and whether or not it would tangle my hair should i stand facing north. it was a certain, soft form of questioning that i felt amidst peace and hurt, the dull closing of love and the inability to want more for fear of repeating the same mistakes.









.

the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift.

.

















the murmuring of "come here" and poorly made cigarettes, cold sand and indecision. i remember different lips and hair, reminiscing but thinking that perhaps this time, this novel, sweet thing, was better.

i'll hold your hand for this is what we've made

.








she was succorless, and he had a light, the strength of which was too bold and too laced with rage:
words were mummed and ejected outwards from the lips, pronunciation jagged as though every iota of expression was a difficult and painful ordeal. the fabric of their relationship was torn in such a way; eyes did not meet and the forces maintaining the short bridge between them began to weaken, as though the energy that broke the wind was indifferent to all that it took, consuming the breeze and the love between them, all with the same carelessness.


















.

anatomy of hell

.


















the earth shakes;
the crack that splits the world
begins between my feet.

the light of the world

.


within the mouth, behind the teeth, an emptiness outlined in the silt of an engorged river pulsed with the anxiety like that of waiting for a beloved that might not come. the river's water was cold, and it ran with the freedom foreign to the boy whose tongue had tasted nothing but the stream's dirty, wasted deposits.









The Rabbit Catcher

It was a place of force -
The wind gagging my mouth with my own blown hair,
Tearing off my voice, and the sea
Blinding me with its lights, the lives of the dead
Unreeling in it, spreading like oil.

I tasted the malignity of the gorse,
Its black spikes,
The extreme unction of its yellow candle-flowers.
They had an efficiency, a great beauty,
And were extravagant, like torture.

There was only one place to get to.
Simmering, perfumed,
The paths narrowed into the hollow.
And the snares almost effaced themselves -
Zeroes, shutting on nothing,

Set close, like birth pangs.
The absence of shrieks
Made a hole in the hot day, a vacancy.
The glassy light was a clear wall,
The thickets quiet.

I felt a still busyness, an intent.
I felt hands round a tea mug, dull, blunt,
Ringing the white china,
How they awaited him, those little deaths!
They waited like sweethearts. They excited him.

And we, too, had a relationship -
Tight wires between us,
Pegs too deep to uproot, and a mind like a ring
Sliding shut on some quick thing,
The constriction killing me also.

--Sylvia Plath.

not up for it.

.







whatever tickles your pickle.













.

due west until you reach the second nearest star

.





"and one for my baby... and one more for the road..." :











there was a melody unlike all the others that sang out from the window sill, it seemed, and every time she neared it to jump out and try to escape, the song pushed her back and back and back.




















back of the head on the floor, knock all those memories out.





.

immemorial

.




it is four forty-nine in the morning. in roughly an hour and a half, M will come to pick me up and we'll go to school. he'll give me the physics assignment sheet he printed for me, and i'll give him strawberry banana juice.






...








yesterday i felt as though i was capable of believing in invincibility; even while so exhilarated, the voice behind my temples spoke with cynical realism and taught me to envy those who are in possessing of such a naive approach to the emotions that fill and strain one's heart as one learns the meaning of age.



















to love myself?






.

hurrac

.







any punishment i'll take for this allowance of one person.
allow me him and what he gives to me, and i'll take whatever else is piled onto my shoulders.


















various seams in the time that passed today appeared wrought with awkward history and a feeling of confusion, as though i did not know where i stand with those whom i have thought to be constants in my life. the light bent and shook the air and the clouds in a way that induced a nauseating awareness of change, an apprehensive knowledge of imminent action, perhaps heartbreak. and then there was both the love of such tension and the great fear of it. i was caught between the two.





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unwatchable

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edit:
holy mother-- jovovich-hawk is the new go international designer ! ~~ ^__^
*is excited*









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can't get out.
can't get out.
can't get out.

















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