peace.love.writing
Daily Log: Tamasag
Tamasag: a myriad of events strewn from choreography, tears, a honey roasted penis, and beautifully written tragedies.
The early morning began with Cam as a human sign out front so people didn’t miss the turn, but also where there was cell reception. Inside, Kayla reenacted the Billie Jean dance, and people wanted to observe a moment of silence for the passing of Michael Jackson. Some people shared that Justin Timberlake should play Michael Jackson if they make a movie of his life: the two do share the same complexion. Jason Malone then played Billie Jean, and several sang along. This began the trading of Michael Jackson songs.
The snacks were grand, but some people chose to keep it simple: Jason had an Izze and Fruit Snacks breakfast.
Dan’s log had a Blair Witch Project feel to it, in which he knocked over somebody’s tea, again, but for the first time, and everyone took turns laughing at each other, and at Lowell’s mouthful of food. Kayla got twice the applause for “There it is!” and we also got a long look at the back of Beth’s head. But the prize of the previous day had to go to Morgan and his author’s chair by doing the impossible: keeping a group of rowdy teachers quiet.
For our morning pages, Jen read “Song of Myself” to us, of the quiet thrills of the outside, the smells of wet earth, of dry and wet leaves, and how we cannot take things at first or second hand, how we need to be our own filter. She even brought her own “grass” because we can’t have booze or a keg, and she “passed it around” for all.
Dan’s read of the power that came from the collaboration of the big screen and Cormac McCarthy’s No Country for Old Men and its after effects on him. Susan’s longed for the simple; Joy, a slice of heaven, and Lowell regaled of shit shoveling, which happened on a repeated occasion. Jason’s wedding-vow block was lifted, replaced with images of a child with a fatal disease jumping on the bed, enough to calm himself to find a sense of home, all be it through the smell of porcelain.
Amber’s author’s chair was so beautiful, brought out so many emotions, that her words will stand on their own.
It’s not a disclaimer, it’s part of the title
Beans and hotdogs during an unbudgeted month
Pretending to pray over food. This was more important than meatloaf.
A breeze of tension
The phrases were heavy raindrops that splattered on the pavement before a hail storm
Yes, my father’s blood worn proudly upon his head
He tried to throw himself out of a moving car because he couldn’t handle the pain
She had sit-down news
Spread to the brain. Three tumors. Left side.
Arms hung like old dusty drapes.
I had to laugh when I could
I was grateful for one last normal meal
I hope my last meal is ice-cream
There was a long break to finish crying, talk to Amber, blow our noses, eat, and talk about how we want to live at Tamasag.
Lauren talked about essential formulas (censorship = fear disguised as moral outrage) and where Goldilocks walked into a topless bar. We also learned that not all parents are snarling, drooling morons. Some have email. We also learned that Dan is the perfect girly-girl, and Morgan is the perfect drama queen. Here were some other memorable quotes from Lauren’s presentation:
“and that’s why so many people shoot their ex-lovers.”
“Smiley, smiley, smiley!”
“Watch out for a ménage-a-trios or a honey roasted penis flying at you.”
Our lunch was a list of the following: garden, Boca, beef, bleu, cheese and hamburgers served, as well as different varieties of marinated chicken, and Feta, Habanero, pineapple, apple and other flavors of chicken, turkey and pork sausage, all while we listen to Michael Jackson and Regina Spector.
A curtain of rain moved down the foothills and pooled outside while all took turns talking and writing, some participating in more of the former than the latter.
During our quick-read, Kayla read of doe like legs, of smiles knowing how to betray, the mimic of a healthy and happy teenager. Beth shared atoms with Robert Frost, Vlad the Impaler, where potassium ions float in and out, in something that can only be described as elegant. Morgan’s reading had a pristine vision, with life defused from a light that cannot be refused. Joy read of being held too close by someone who was too far from her idea of Prince Charming. He was the Prince of repulse, this Richard, with greasy hair, zits, and a false sense of cool. Pam found hollow professors with confiscated name plates, of wooden doors pressed blonde, of boys she slept with for eight months who said she was both beautiful and elegant, and Pam was this someone who saw sex in every encounter, cracks in ivory pedestals, and names that have been replaced.
The early morning began with Cam as a human sign out front so people didn’t miss the turn, but also where there was cell reception. Inside, Kayla reenacted the Billie Jean dance, and people wanted to observe a moment of silence for the passing of Michael Jackson. Some people shared that Justin Timberlake should play Michael Jackson if they make a movie of his life: the two do share the same complexion. Jason Malone then played Billie Jean, and several sang along. This began the trading of Michael Jackson songs.
The snacks were grand, but some people chose to keep it simple: Jason had an Izze and Fruit Snacks breakfast.
Dan’s log had a Blair Witch Project feel to it, in which he knocked over somebody’s tea, again, but for the first time, and everyone took turns laughing at each other, and at Lowell’s mouthful of food. Kayla got twice the applause for “There it is!” and we also got a long look at the back of Beth’s head. But the prize of the previous day had to go to Morgan and his author’s chair by doing the impossible: keeping a group of rowdy teachers quiet.
For our morning pages, Jen read “Song of Myself” to us, of the quiet thrills of the outside, the smells of wet earth, of dry and wet leaves, and how we cannot take things at first or second hand, how we need to be our own filter. She even brought her own “grass” because we can’t have booze or a keg, and she “passed it around” for all.
Dan’s read of the power that came from the collaboration of the big screen and Cormac McCarthy’s No Country for Old Men and its after effects on him. Susan’s longed for the simple; Joy, a slice of heaven, and Lowell regaled of shit shoveling, which happened on a repeated occasion. Jason’s wedding-vow block was lifted, replaced with images of a child with a fatal disease jumping on the bed, enough to calm himself to find a sense of home, all be it through the smell of porcelain.
Amber’s author’s chair was so beautiful, brought out so many emotions, that her words will stand on their own.
It’s not a disclaimer, it’s part of the title
Beans and hotdogs during an unbudgeted month
Pretending to pray over food. This was more important than meatloaf.
A breeze of tension
The phrases were heavy raindrops that splattered on the pavement before a hail storm
Yes, my father’s blood worn proudly upon his head
He tried to throw himself out of a moving car because he couldn’t handle the pain
She had sit-down news
Spread to the brain. Three tumors. Left side.
Arms hung like old dusty drapes.
I had to laugh when I could
I was grateful for one last normal meal
I hope my last meal is ice-cream
There was a long break to finish crying, talk to Amber, blow our noses, eat, and talk about how we want to live at Tamasag.
Lauren talked about essential formulas (censorship = fear disguised as moral outrage) and where Goldilocks walked into a topless bar. We also learned that not all parents are snarling, drooling morons. Some have email. We also learned that Dan is the perfect girly-girl, and Morgan is the perfect drama queen. Here were some other memorable quotes from Lauren’s presentation:
“and that’s why so many people shoot their ex-lovers.”
“Smiley, smiley, smiley!”
“Watch out for a ménage-a-trios or a honey roasted penis flying at you.”
Our lunch was a list of the following: garden, Boca, beef, bleu, cheese and hamburgers served, as well as different varieties of marinated chicken, and Feta, Habanero, pineapple, apple and other flavors of chicken, turkey and pork sausage, all while we listen to Michael Jackson and Regina Spector.
A curtain of rain moved down the foothills and pooled outside while all took turns talking and writing, some participating in more of the former than the latter.
During our quick-read, Kayla read of doe like legs, of smiles knowing how to betray, the mimic of a healthy and happy teenager. Beth shared atoms with Robert Frost, Vlad the Impaler, where potassium ions float in and out, in something that can only be described as elegant. Morgan’s reading had a pristine vision, with life defused from a light that cannot be refused. Joy read of being held too close by someone who was too far from her idea of Prince Charming. He was the Prince of repulse, this Richard, with greasy hair, zits, and a false sense of cool. Pam found hollow professors with confiscated name plates, of wooden doors pressed blonde, of boys she slept with for eight months who said she was both beautiful and elegant, and Pam was this someone who saw sex in every encounter, cracks in ivory pedestals, and names that have been replaced.
Comment
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Comment by Cameron Shinn on June 28, 2009 at 4:32pm - I had different fonts and things indented, but they were lost in the cut and paste from Word. I hope I am back from the doctor in time for Daily Log.
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