one story

there was one night in college. my dorm's common room broke into a spontaneous dance party that just kept escalating until the RA evicted us, for being too loud as i recall. so we just danced our way to the roof (where i started a chair-dance chorus for the boys across the street. it's funny, the full moon.) at which point, of course, the powers that be evicted us from the roof, but we were not deterred. we took our party to the streets.
as we hit the sidewalk, someone started running for the boys' dorms, and we all followed, no questions asked, down the street, over a hill, at least 20 girls moving as one. they didn't come out, the cowards. the moon. i'll show you moon. shannon mooned the dorm. not to be outdone, rich mooned us back, and, strange, that one white boy bottom smashed and steaming against the glass of the 6th floor, it was like a signal, because someone shrieked and we all started running again, this time for the school clock tower, where, when we arrived, we danced rings around and around, like witches, screaming and singing. for hours.

the gauntlet

last night while at brasil's (a local coffee establishment) someone threw down a naughty story challenge. i sat at the table, nursing a ginger-peach tea and racking my brain, but nothing came to mind. nothing at all.
so, last night, i learned something.

in high school, i should not have had a curefew. honestly, mother.

do you know why this is ironic?

Lorenlax21: hi
JoieTang: hey
Lorenlax21: how are you today?
JoieTang: i am being existential
Lorenlax21: how so?
JoieTang: i'm deciding that my meaningless existence and equally meaningless suffering has to be meanigful because it is happening
Lorenlax21: i love your crazy thought patterns
JoieTang: i'm glad they are so enjoyable

finally, an update

recently, i have come to view my life as something like one of those neverending reboot viruses your computer might contract (that my computer has before contracted). you know the ones--it starts up and then shuts down and then starts all over again, and there seems nothing you can do except pull the plug and wait for the battery to die.
right. so i figured that this sort of life wasn't worth writing about.
and then this morning, i sat up in bed and decided it didn't matter whether or not it was "worth" writing about or "worth" reading about.
there should be some forum out there that uses the criteria of someone's very existence to determine worthiness.
and if it isn't a blog, then what is it?
so, whatever.

poignant

bedcadet:. says:
yeah well
.:bedcadet:. says:
when you fel like your life is totally pointless, you look for the point in other people's lives
Joy says:
i should quote that
.:bedcadet:. says:
thank you

it's always about hips

Jowithani: mom, i hate the world sometimes.
JoieTang: why
Jowithani: its like this. i really, really hate it when people blow me off, especially when i suspect it is b/c they think i am not "cool"
JoieTang: aha
Jowithani: its just... im starting to get angry
Jowithani: not sad for me, just angry
Jowithani: b/c peopel are so damn shallow
JoieTang: the feeling that suddenly it should not be in another's power to choose your self-esteem, because to give them that power undermines your own, when it is to your own truth that you must adhere.
Jowithani: yeah
JoieTang: i, and my hips, have always loved you
Jowithani: have you gotten them insured, like j.lo's ass?
JoieTang: my hips, even before they existed, knew of your delights, and they did partake of the richness
JoieTang: which would explain their current size
Jowithani: haha
JoieTang: damn you
Jowithani: they are like God
JoieTang: j. lo won't know what hit her

a few words

One must mock the face of Failure, lest Failure grow too bold.