Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Mia Maria's LiveJournal:

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Thursday, May 31st, 2007
9:49 am	To put out the raging oil fires in Iraq during the first Gulf War, firefighter soldiers dynamited the center of the fire, which in some way or another extinguished it. Lately, my mind has not only been blown, it has been a raging oil fire that needs to be dynamited lest it burn forever, polluting everything around me with a slick cancerous fog. For the past three months, I have worked twelve hours a day, six or seven days a week. I was not the only one doing this, and in fact, I worked less than some of the other volunteers. We ran a homeless shelter. The residents respected us because we worked hard but also knew that there is joy and love and fun in these situations sometimes. We stood around the kitchen and made fun of each other, watched laughing while kids fished toys out of the flooding backyard, and ate endless amounts of home-cooked fried and barbequed chicken. I have eaten my weight in red beans. After three months of hard work, the shelter lost funding because apparently, providing shelter to New Orleanians returning home is not a part of the organization's vision. Relief, apparently, means building ponds and gardens in the Lower Ninth Ward, taking up space, money, and labor to create a middle-class alternative community rather than rebuilding the community that now exists. Relief means sacrificing a shelter that houses families--couples, men with children, women with children, single men, single women--and is the only one of its kind in the city. Men with children are forced to leave the parish, possibly giving up their jobs, their children's schools, and their families, to stay in a shelter that does not even feel like home. The Family Shelter felt like home, it felt like home to me, and to the residents seeking shelter. There was always food in the fridge, grits on the stove, and toys in the backyard. Volunteers to alternately play with the kids, talk to the adults, and make endless amounts of phone calls looking for health care, free eyeglasses and dentist appointments, and the ever-elusive affordable housing. For the past week, the atmosphere has alternated between heavy rain and high humidity. Sticky or soaked, I haven't been dry for days. Within hours the streets fill with water, backyards flood six inches deep, small cars get stuck on huge boulevards. It didn't flood like this before, Ms. C told me, not before the storm. Everything from the lack of good drainage to the mosquitos can be traced to the storm, one storm, a few hours of rain and high winds, and an entire city is brought to its knees. A city that, mind you, has more dignity and small-town feel than any city in the United States. The rain, though, it is dramatic and has brought on fights between forty year-olds, a rage storm of criticism from organization leadership looking for scapegoats on whom to place the blame for the failing program, and run-of-the-mill childhood boredom. This city is extreme in every way. All services are stretched to their limits, the residents are the most friendly in the most violent city in the United States, the potholes are bigger, the cops are soldiers who drive hum-vs, and the music is the best, just the best. I've had to call the cops on neighbors, escort drug-addled residents off the property, and break up fights. But yesterday, I was invited to watch a woman's ultrasound, a confusing gray and black anatomy lesson during which I saw a tiny heart, a tiny spine, and some kidneys. And that moment, in the eleventh hour of my work with the shelter program, almost brought me to my knees. In prayer, or defeat, or pure humility towards life, I am not certain. But I am here and it is hard and I have failed in many ways, and I understand next to nothing about this city. So it goes... (Comment on this)
Thursday, March 1st, 2007
10:25 pm	i wore high heels and a suit to my grandmother's visitation, which included no body, no ashes, just piles of flowers and pictures of her in her wedding dress, with her book club, holding up three ducks that she had shot while hunting. i leaned over to hug so many shrunken women with beautiful wrinkled skin that was smooth and soft to the touch, and my calves hurt from all that leaning on the heels. my hands were a little dry from all of the holding. some people's eyes made me cry, and some made me smile. the funeral was sad and gorgeous. the church was modest, without silver or gold, for lent. there were white flowers and a singer sang "danny boy," already a song that can make anyone with a drop of alcohol in their blood a little weepy, and everyone was sobbing. my aunt and i, both marias, cried our eyes out and held each other close when he sang "ave maria." the passages read from "moby dick" were perfect. and everyone kept saying, if only she were here, she would love this... *** in one week i will be moving away from bloomington, a place that feels like my hometown, and away from friends that feel like family. some people seem able to do this, this moving, very casually, with no big to-do. i seem incapable of this. i give big hugs when i leave for a week, i give parties when i leave for two months. and what about an indefinite leave? i have no idea. my last day of work was today. to clarify: it was my last day of paid work for the next six months, during which time i will volunteer to do thankless manual labor and organizational tasks for no money at all, but free room and board. i keep telling myself that i am prepared to face the challenge and the frustration of working in new orleans, and that i am prepared to be discouraged and intensely angered. but how can you prepare yourself in such a way? unwilling to fully believe anything i hear, i have little idea about what it is like there, and cannot figure out how to think about such a move. i am excited, that is all i know. i have that itching, tingling, nervous feeling that starts in my chest and back and reddens my pale face. i have a week to be with my friends, pack my things, make dinner for twenty of my closest friends. drink lots of wine. i am going to give lots of toasts. and i might even find time to stomp in a rain puddle or two. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, July 14th, 2006
10:12 am	oh hell yeah so i just got tickets to go see tom waits in my home town. uh, yeah. and tonight is the fashion show, with high culture/cheap whiskey duds by erin & mia (grignotine), knee shy, and petra: it's ok to stare. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, December 19th, 2005
5:44 pm	a leftist that supports coca production got elected in bolivia and a man got acquitted of a rape charge because he was sleep-walking at the time: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/north_yorkshire/4543340.stm apparently it's called sexsomnia and this isn't the first time that someone has been found innocent of rape because they were "asleep at the time." you can't make this shit up man. i can't imagine anything crazier than the real world. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, August 29th, 2005
6:02 pm	goodbye to freaktooth and hello to face face. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, August 24th, 2004
1:58 pm	she ran around and tasted three colors of cotton candy while my back was turned. and then she put on the white and blue tu-tu and pranced around the stage until i felt as though i had been turned into a vinyl record album and spun on the turntable, at thirty-three rpms; she danced until i became the music and she did as well. we were shiny black notes flying through the air, worming our way into others' ears, insisting on being heard. i sat on stage with my back to the audience. it was nice. but she makes me feel like i don't have a partner. she makes me feel like dancing is the only thing she loves to do. the stage wasn't even big, it was only a foot tall. the audience, it was comprised of five of her friends, and frank sinatra was on the stereo. 'you can't dance like that to frank sinatra,' i told her. 'you're moving too fast, be cool.' when she was driving me crazy, when she was dancing out of rhythm in a way that made me, well, want her more than i had before, i had to leave. i walked and saw the sign to the next town, and i kept going. and now she dances for me even though i am not there anymore; she leaves the house in her tu-tu and goes looking for me. and those legs of hers, i can see them in the pictures she sends me. just look. she sometimes tells me how she would like her funeral to be, in a way that is self-confirming rather than damning, because she can see all the people mourning her, wanting to see her movements smooth like pudding and her eyes livid with the idea that another desires her besides me. a letter she sent me: "you took me on a date today. we walked across the bridge, the wooden one that is still used by trains, and got ice cream across the street. you touched me in the park, with those slender, smooth hands of yours, and of course i was wearing my tu-tu so you complained that it itched. but your stubble scratched my face and made my upper lip red, so we're even i suppose. we laughed a lot, especially after we drank mimosas as an extravagant gift to ourselves. we came back to my apartment, since you no longer live here, a little drunk on champagne, and laid down on my mattress. i had to sell the box spring and you complained that i was too old to sleep like that. twenty-six is not that old, i said. i plan to live a long time. and then you left, while i was dancing for you. i could see by your face that you wanted to hold me closely and have me kiss your neck and nose, but you didn't ask and i felt awkward offering myself in that way." i sit in my house alone, and sometimes i go to work at the local newspaper. but this small town has little news, and i end up writing about prize-winning turkeys and the potential of the graduating class of 2005. the friends i have made are interested in the things i say, but the things i say to them are not interesting, and so it goes. i like her letters more than the sound of her voice. i like the pictures she sends me of our dates more than our dates themselves. i like the memory of touching her closely-cropped hair and her leathery cheeks, without the obligation to do so. i sit away from the stage, away from the audience. i stand on the catwalk. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, July 31st, 2004
7:35 am	Ready or not, here I come... (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, July 30th, 2004
10:52 am	i just have one thing to say: G.L.O.R.I.A. patti smith last night. two rows of people back, the familiar smell of body odor (one that i've missed living with highly sanitized sorority girls for 6 weeks), patti smith's spit and swagger, and lenny kaye's, well, hot licks. and i don't like traffic but steve winwood was there and he sure can wail on the violin. i wanted to cry and laugh and pass out and live the moment forever. ho.ly.shit. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, July 27th, 2004
2:28 pm	sweet political sex dream aka the best dream ever: Tom Waits was running for President of the United States. Because I didn't want Bush to win, I knew I couldn't vote for him, but I did go see his campaign speech, because I want to hear him talk to me every day of my life. I went to it, and it was amazing. Then my dream cut to the Johns Kerry and Edwards, who both had campaign stickers on their tongues. And they were making out! Let me repeat: John Kerry and John Edwards--making out like hot teen lovers, only with stickers on their tongues. But now that I think of it, John Edwards is kind of a stud... (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, July 12th, 2004
8:53 pm	here is what i did this weekend: edinburgh, walking for twelve hours, looking out on to the firth of forth and the kingdom of fife, the most beautiful architecture ever in one city at one time, sir walter scott monument, vegetarian restaurants, whiskey tastings, roads on top of volcanic rock, a castle, a rembrandt, a scottish cemetary, and of course: scissor sisters, franz ferdinand, miss polly jean harvey, and the motherfuckin pixies. let me repeat: pj harvey! the pixies! i almost pissed myself i was so excited and i couldn't stop smiling the whole time. and before the pixies came on, everyone was all smashed together, and they played nirvana over the speakers and everyone started singing along and dancing!! i laughed out loud and was so so happy. and i got one of those lomo colorsplash cameras so i took pictures of the neon lights on the carnival rides at the park, and i can't wait to see them. hooray! phew. Current Mood: exuberant Current Music: xiu xiu- poe poe (!) (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, July 1st, 2004
8:43 pm	swollen elbows, sore hips, all i have is time to think and read and walk around. garth brooks at the wax museum, a little girl with pigeons in her lap, spit on a foreign sidewalk. too many ideas for things to do when i return, too many things to do while i'm here. the candy here is absolutely amazing. cadbury, i want you inside me. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, June 23rd, 2004
10:35 pm	eirann go brach-ireland 4-eva! what do you do, oh pray tell, when you just took a crap, the toilet won't flush, and you have two sorority girls for roommates? (1 Comment |Comment on this)
1:20 pm	A young man was mean and abusive to his father, a good man who deserved to be loved. One night, which was probably dark (and, knowing Ireland, stormy as fuck) a faery came and pushed him down, and when the young man tried to get up there was a corpse on his back that he couldn't shake off. the faery told the man that the corpse would remain on his back forever unless he could take him to his proper burial place by the time the sun came up. the whole night the man travelled around the countryside, digging holes, while the corpse's grip on his neck grew tighter and tighter, until he realized he would have to pay attention to the corpse so it could tell him where he wished to be buried. the corpse pointed in the direction of a church, where the man had to dig up the bones of the corpse's wife, and she followed them across even more countryside, with the corpse pointing the way. they swam across a lake and finally they came to an island, where the man dug a hole and finally the corpse could rest. the faery was satisfied and the corpse fell off his back. so kids, be nice to your elders or you'll have a corpse on your back, tightening it's, ahem, 'death grip' around your skinny, irreverent neck. (Comment on this)
Saturday, June 12th, 2004
2:34 pm	To everyone that came last night: I love you! I'll send pictures and letters from across the pond. Send me an email with your address and that way I'll have your email and mailing address. mapartlo@indiana.edu or moistpacket@hotmail.com No one has ever thrown me a party before, much less a surprise one! It made me feel so so sooooo good. Everyone who came is totally amazing. Love and cicadas, ms. mia (Comment on this)
Sunday, June 6th, 2004
2:40 pm	The Rev. George Malkmus often preaches about how he believes the world of proper eating began - or, in his opinion, vegan. (Comment on this)
Sunday, May 30th, 2004
5:45 pm	She scratched at the rash on her chest, on her stomach. Her hair was ash brown, but her skin, it was strawberry blonde. Two days ago she had her first one night stand, he didn't even mind the rash (he kindly avoided it, kissed her shoulders and neck, and lips of course). At the bar she whispered "come home with me, I feel a little like alice in wonderland. falling all the time." In reply, he said "I feel like that too sometimes, especially now that i am forced to walk on living things." She had him repeat himself twice more, because he had not yet learned to speak over the cicadas, the metallic drone that came and went, like waves (of course), or the undulating flight pattern of what was surely the laziest, most absurd insect ever to live. They were outside the bar and the air was humid; nasty bug body parts stuck to skin and the soles of shoes, and everyone was drinking light beer and vodka tonics. now you tell me the a little more of the story. and the next person a little more. and so on. what happens next? (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, May 15th, 2004
2:23 am	I'm not trying to be an asshole, but girl you be coppin my steez. where you were you in 2003 babyyyy? (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, May 3rd, 2004
8:53 am	I've got these, these dark circles under my eyes that like to talk to me about asthma, these wheezy mornings, and tests of knowledge. These bags under my eyes aren't packed for a fun-filled vacation, with bathing suits and neon fanny packs; they are filled with vomit. they are spiteful and hated by the rest of my face and because of that they pack themselves full with vomit and unleash their fury in the middle of the night all over my face. I wake up wet with oozing bile (there's no room for chunks, thank god); wiping my face on my pillow, I try to go back to sleep, but these dark circles have self-preservation in mind (hobbes' fundamental law of nature, if you're interested), and they gave me nightmares about overly large testicles attacking me in salvation army dressing rooms with secret hidden cameras. marijuana-induced stupors and men i hate holding clear pink sex toys glistening with lubricant. These circles under my eyes will ruin testicles, marijuana, and sex toys for me forever if i'm not careful. Friday comes soon enough and something tells me these vomit-sacs are on their deathbed. (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, April 22nd, 2004
2:42 pm	hour 1 of the eating contest/procastination-thon has begun what should i do? !more importantly, what should i eat? (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, April 20th, 2004
8:43 am	hey alexis, congratulations on being born. hooray! (1 Comment |Comment on this)