“he learn his lesson not to smoke weed cuz it kill trees”

henry* – you’re onto something, kid. y’all: meet henry. henry is in middle school and attended my “tree video” workshop today at the parks department’s “green thumb grow together” conference in the bronx. in my workshop i sweet talked kids do a five-minute free write, watching over them like a hawk to make sure their pencils didn’t cease spewing the prodigal stuff of dreams. i.e., make sure they didn’t stop writing about how much they love trees. then i filmed them. teehee! i’m trynna make a documentary and henry will undoubtedly be the star. oh right you just wanna see henry.

i give you, henry.

Untitled from Sarah Dougherty on Vimeo.

*name was changed for permissions reasons. i know i know, but if you want to see who this awesome tree kid is really, check back in a few months when the milliontreesnyc doc is FINISHED.

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ma dawg skup

y’all: this is my sister, frances.

ugh, what is she doing

tonight we had this conversation via the tome of semblance, i.e., facebook. BBQ phi mu is her icon btdubayuh, ugh.

11:17pm
yo betch

hi stinkles!

wassup?

nothin
so so tired always by 11
just cooked
parsnip french fries o_O and a soba noodle stir fry
k little betch ima go sleepy
callz me tomorrow if you wantin’ i loooov u

hahah ok but did you brush your teeth??

…betch
yes
ugh such a betch!

hehehe i know you too well
good night little grasshopper

meow! purr purr *licks paw*
nah nah
(night night)

nah nah night night

JANKZ
PAHAHAHA
POOOHOOO HOO

11:26
did you see the pic of my onesie?

yaz-control
what it do?
RESPOND AS I AM PUTTING OUR CONV ON MY BLOG
ugh you’re gay
gayuh thenna cabbage patch
slice uh gay cake
gnight
don’t take offense. it’s just that, well, UGH.

idylls of the zing

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salt "tat!" na na na

er. zinger. i really wanted to make that work. and i don’t know why – unnecessary. like the rest of this post: fun, fun facts regarding… knee-buckling suspense… SALT.

guys, serendipitous is this. joy morton is the man who founded the morton salt company in 1910. joy’s father, julius sterling morton, a nebraskan politician and do-gooder, invented arbor day. from the family that brought you tree love, SALT. maybe my two favorite things… was i a morton?

and since mad men aired yesterday i might as well tell you that the morton salt girl’s purpose is to show you that morton’s salt used magnesium sorbate, an absorbing agent, in it, which revolutionized the sodium industry and would make it possible for even a cute little girl be able to pour a granular, unclumped stream of salt in the pouring rain. my only concern is that she’s wasting all of that salt.

could salt, the first food preservative, be the bedrock of civilization? could the morton salt girl be the beginning of the don draper’s ad-age, so maybe the stimulus for modern consumer culture? could trees and salt figure in my personal crest which i will weld after writing this post?

yes to the last.

Profound vs. Dipshit: Dis One’s for you, Tom Corbett!

I’m feeling eloquent. Wanna know how I feel about abortion? I’m all for it.

AND NOW! A BRIEF *silent* INTERLUDE FROM OUR TOKEN PRUSSIAN VENTRILOQUIST, ABELARD… 

No really. The population is too big, so why not save where you can? Dun dun dun. I am… retro comic print… The AntiWomb! Gosh, what do you think that comic book villain would figure?

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Guess no more!

That was dumb. Perhaps you should ‘just close your eyes’ next time I invoke a joke (a yoke).

Joke-a-yoke.

Hell, I am not in the mood to blog. 

Frou Frou

In the same way that I used to scour sing365.com for the perfect Third Eye Blind lyrics to post on my AIM profile, I spent a large part of the evening scouring poets.org for some validatingly high-profile words to capture the day’s sentiments. I’ll always be insecure about staking my space in the blogosphere. Why would you care about how emo Sarah was today? If I explained through Susan Dodd would I be legitimized? Nope.

So anyways I’ll just tell you what I did today. Woke up, watched Snow Falling on Cedars (that shit was GREAT!) ran, wheezed, went to Epsteins with a dear friend, got drunk, walked from Houston to 59th, pacing with the wind in my hair and Adele blaring with vocally-precarious gusto, came home, set up shop*

*Wait – sidenote – I decided to “get my money’s worth” of my rent and SET UP SHOP on my fire escape. By shop I mean what you see. Beer, soccer mom chair (GO LADY TIGERS! etc.), laptop, and down jacket as it is not warm in New York City. Sidenote to sidenote – my wonderful roommate photographed me (“Sarah! Take a picture of me being badass on the fire escape!”…”Ok?”). My fingers are like turgid little pickles because its ultraconservacold. They hurt Rush Limbaugh bad. I’m going to go inside.

Okay now I’m inside. I like to keep it short, keep it fly. So I’ll just end by saying that I listened to this song very much a lot today. Cristobal by Devendra Banhart. Yeah yeah but good okay?! It made me think of a lot of things: my increasing wanderlust (should I do the PeaceCorps?), all of the food I want to eat before I die (turgid pickles: a priority), how I potentially contracted a $6 manicure fungal disease today, how my personality would differ if my name was Lamaiaia, and lots of other profound things.

I really liked Snow Falling on Cedars. Ethan Hawke, another reason why 1999 was a better time.