• # = not trading
  • % = needs to be cleaned out
  • + = in use
  • ❤ = very hard trade


  • anatomicals
  • antinovels ❤
  • cloudsoffools +
  • contrabird ❤
  • de_vogels (of birds)
  • elephantisms
  • fruitflys
  • justachatterbox %
  • savecouture
  • scottishly
  • shybirds
  • snejanas
  • worthamass + ❤


jan 30 2012 ∞
feb 10 2012 +
  • the night of Jan. 02

I dreamed about Spartacus but I was trapped inside a closet and there was a map, a map of the world that kept showing but it was some mysterious dream map that didn't make sense.

Then I dreamed about school. I had my IS math class like now but I was still enrolled at Kennedy and I had three classes- photography, a math class and an art class, I think. I didn't want to go to my classes and I just hid. Eventually, I went to my math teacher to sort everything out and everyone was so disappointed in me. There was also this old woman who brought me to this room with statues. She had a grudge against 'the king' and his house. She did this little bit of magic where everyone in her family basically went crazy and attacked his house. (By house I mean, "House of Snead", etc.) And yet, there w...

jan 3 2012 ∞
aug 7 2012 +
  • The Brodosky Trial

JUDGE: And what is your profession? BRODSKY: Poet. Poet and translator. JUDGE: And who told you that you were a poet? Who assigned you that rank? BRODSKY: No one. (Non-confrontationally.) Who assigned me to the human race? JUDGE: And did you study for this? BRODSKY: For what? JUDGE: To become a poet? Did you try to attend a school where they train . . . where they teach . . . BRODSKY: I don’t think it comes from education. JUDGE: From what, then? BRODSKY: I think it’s . . . (at a loss) . . . from God.

  • M. Foucault

“I write in order to change myself and in order not to think the same thing as before.”

  • Rumi
dec 18 2011 ∞
dec 18 2011 +
list icon
  • Become an acclaimed novelist
  • Fall in love
  • Travel around the world
  • Join the PeaceCorps
  • Become a linguist
  • Learn Sanskrit
  • Be Happy
  • Buy a cottage and a house in the city
  • Direct a film
  • Publish a book of poetry
  • Meet your favorite writers
  • Have daughter
  • Learn how to whistle
  • Learn how to swing dance, ballroom dance, salsa, jazz, everything
  • Live life to the fullest
may 27 2011 ∞
may 27 2011 +
dec 18 2011 ∞
dec 18 2011 +
list icon
  • First, there was Jamison.

He was pale and had freckles and red hair. He was the de facto leader of my first grade class. I thought he was confident and utterly cool. My friend and I decided that we would write love letters to our crushes. I would write to Jamison. I remember sitting on the floor of our apartment making him a card. I wanted to write something unique, something poetic and beautiful that would make him like me. I kept asking my mom what I could write. She didn't know. The only thing I could think of was "Roses are red, violets are blue and I like you." And so I wrote it. I put it on his desk at lunch. I was found out. He and his posse relentlessly questioned me. The gem of our little argument. Me: I know you sent you it. Him: Who? Me: NOT ME! I was a very intelligent child, can't you tell? Anyway, my love for him faded and so did my friendship with what's-her-name because she never gave her love...

may 27 2011 ∞
may 27 2011 +