aella_deathstar

Mon, 22 Jan 2007 22:28:41 GMT

it would be nice if i could order a topographical map of my emotions
on amazon
but i suppose if i can't even find a board game
i'd be hard pressed to discover the cause of these mood swings
add to cart
buy with one click
learn whether or not this will land you in an institution
customers who bought items like this also bought:
anne sexton's poetry.
yesterday i sat on the floor in the bathroom
rearranged the shit under the sink
found a treasure
yellow heart
j + c
painted on the inside of the cabinet
felt my brain swirling under the immensity of that brushstroke of
sweetest sugary sentiment
i wondered about their love
who painted the heart?
did the other ever know?
were they a young couple, bursting at the seams?
now old and quiet, weathered to smoothest perfection over the years?
brother and sister?
sister and sister?
mother and child?
did one ever bring the other chrysanthemums and goldenrod?
ever dress a wound?
ever find a speck of gray in the others eye?
did they build walls or tear them down?
was one in the war while the other wrung their hands?
did they ever eat toast in bed?
build a snowman?
fill their pockets with candy and go on an adventure?
i wondered what songs they sang
who had cavities
what their nervous habits were
did they ever go to the beach and crunch sand in their teeth?
eat raspberries off of their fingers?
ride bicycles together?
what were their greatest triumphs, their most devastating defeats?
did either of them ever lift a hay bale?
ever get poison oak?
ever touch the soft spot on the side of a horse's mouth?
i wondered these things and they left me and settled in the space where one of his eyelashes extends from the follicle and arches toward the sky
i scattered little colored buttons and mirrors about the floor
i smiled
i wondered these things and today all i can do is stare out the window
watch each drop of condensation forge its own path down the glass
until the lines look like capillaries
i wondered these things and today i feel numb
my head is full of deafening noise
but confucius once mused
they must often change who would be constant in happiness or wisdom
so i'll take my emotion by her little palm and with an audible ardor
we'll continue on...

"this last week has been amazing."

Sun, 03 Dec 2006 16:09:11 GMT

it has been a blur of a week. a blur of blissful, domestic days, freezing nights and mornings, clutching at one another to keep warm, sweet moments coupled with an intensity that has knocked the wind out of both of us on several occasions, conversations that make me never want to stop talking or listening for that matter, reading aloud, singing together, watching him paint and play the guitar, lightning storms, and a swarm of furry, endearing puppies...warding off the barrage of panic that usually accompanies this sort of thing, this falling. we are living this big messy, grandiose life in a day. and the days turn to weeks and the weeks to months and...

this mutual compatibility floors me.

Wed, 23 Aug 2006 17:19:49 GMT

The logical conclusion drawn today from my ruminating is that I’ll simply have to stop believing.
I’d like to blame someone, some person for this conclusion.
My grandfather who stole away a chunk of my youth? Who saw it glistening before him and couldn’t resist breaking out his chisel and hammer? Even now, beyond my youth, I often feel that empty space like a phantom limb…aching and painful. But when the pain subsides I’m left only to ponder who chiseled away a part of his youth or imagination, safety or stability.
So no. I don’t think I’ll blame him today.
Will Fikes who could never validate my feelings but wasn’t selfless enough to let me go? In regard to him I always come back to the role I played. I should have won an Oscar. Even I got lost in the character.
So I don’t think I’ll blame him (or myself for that matter) either.
I don’t really think anyone is to blame.
Maybe god…for even giving me the ability to believe in the first place, so that when I decide it’s necessary to rid my life of belief in anything, I’ll constantly feel its missing presence. So what’s new, right?
My youth, my imagination.
Both phantom limbs…both reminders of a battle that was lost.
But as far as who is responsible for me actually making the decision: it is no one and everyone. Nothing and all of history. Dead cells and humanity.

The water is lukewarm. The tears have stopped. I’m glad the candle from the dollar store came wrapped in cheap plastic on which the image of the virgin of Guadalupe is printed. Otherwise, I would have already smashed the glass against the tile just to see where the pieces would land in the tub…just to see if any of them would cut me. But alas, the image is so lovely.
So lovely.

At camp we tried to listen to our friend’s hearts through a cardboard tube. Had the tubes actually worked like stethoscopes, which was their intended purpose, the kids would have heard something strange when they put their ears up to the cardboard over my heart. The sound of sinews threading themselves back and forth, back and forth, desperately trying to salvage the muscle…the chambers and doorways and little strings like on marionette puppets…the throbbing magic of it all. What the determined sinews did not know, however, was that the moment the last thread was pulled through and taut, the other side would begin to unravel. It’s just the nature of things in my heart.

Maybe there are no more doors. I thought I was happy that the last one opened up on you, but maybe I was just relieved to have it opened and then closed again, so I can finally get on with it without all these doors…these doors that exhaust me. Maybe the starving man needs the bread crumbs more than I need to be happy. Maybe I have all I need. Maybe I don’t need to believe in anything else because I have enough. Maybe the feeling of flying down a hill on my bike with my feet off of the pedals and stuck out to the side, the world rushing by, wind in my hair, maybe that’s enough. Maybe Lauren laughing so hard that she makes no sound at all is enough. Braedyn singing into the intercom at bookpeople, chasing his bouncy ball, ordering chocolate ice cream with nem and nems. Maybe that’s enough. Maybe lines from novels that melt my heart are enough. Maybe having the privilege of experiencing my parent’s marriage is enough. The way riss smells. Maybe that’s enough. Maybe reconnecting with old friends and singing in the shower and dying my hair. Maybe that’s enough. Maybe night swimming and hot baths and beaver cakes are enough. Maybe reading and laughing and traveling are enough. Maybe my life thus far is enough. It seems illogical that there should still be an empty space…

Maybe tomorrow some of the cynicism will slough off. Maybe I’ll reconsider locking all the doors and throwing the key into some vast, black ocean. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be better. Maybe tomorrow, but not today.

i was digging in a box in the garage and...

Wed, 29 Mar 2006 17:02:25 GMT

i found some stuffs i wrote while i was in oz.

i can't remember what it's like to live without nightmares...to wake up feeling refreshed. I read somewhere that bullfrogs never sleep. I bet no one has ever written an ode to a bullfrog before, but if these nightmares keep up, i may just be the first.
"oh to be a bullfrog"
oh to be a bullfrog sitting in a pond
and never having to deal with fatuous subconscious fog
all day and night simply eating yummy flies
and happily, oh so happily, never closing my fucking eyes

i found a letter i wrote to mark...and two that i wrote on barf bags to molly and will. those were funny.

and this:
she opened her eyes. the ceiling came into view at a slant. she winced. there was something about the victorian design that made her feel like she was in a prison, where stupidity and unbridled rage had landed her in solitary confinement. were it not for the noises outside her window that reminded her of liberated life, the claustrophobia would have slimed its way around her neck and down the length of her body like an eel. maybe it was the tint of yellow in the paint. yellow denotes madness in russian literature. the bows and the bells and the frill. it was sickening and she was unable to deny that feeling access into the room or into her thoughts. the incense stick she had burned earlier was a string of light brown ash desperately clinging to the window sill. not having a burner, she just let it jut out from the sill with something heavy to hold its end, and the ash fell to the floor. only this stick was refusing to let go. she had lit it in the morning and it had hung around all day resembling a row of miniature sausage links. she wondered when it would take the plunge. at 3:03 am? on page 303? more and more frequently, synchronicities revealed themselves to her...much to her pleasure at times and dismay at others. dream soup was a pleasurable experience. teaching irish horses to enter a swimming pool was another. habitualization robbing art of any real meaning was a particularly comedic sentiment especially in the context of the what defines art conversation. but huxley's comatose state and her description of the tv with cartoons in it but unable to send them out, followed by the description of february as the most cruel month with the meanest moon sent masses of hot, salty tears down her cheeks. february is pitiless. she wished she could paint her walls bright green. she wished she could have known his favorite smell. she wished she would have pleaded louder or at least more convincingly to whomever it may have concerned. she would never forget the way his hand felt in hers, but she would inadvertently forget other things, the little, most important things. and all she really wanted was to feel the soft skin of his shaved arm upon her face.

Tue, 28 Mar 2006 16:01:57 GMT

I didn't wanna go. Claire talked me into it, and I went as a butterfly. And you were there with Vicki, and you were thumbelina. and you were wearing your clogs and your fish earrings and you smelled of patchouli. vicki was rumpelstiltskin. and you said that you'd seen me before at at frida's or, but i didn't remember you. and while we talked, vicki said nothing. and she just kept looking at me and she made me uncomfortable, so i said that i wanted to go to the bar to get a drink and...and you followed me. remember that blind girl was playing on the piano? and at the bar you introduced me to that woman, grace. film director. that was the first time i heard you say my name...christine. and uh, she was mother goose. and she had that huge tattoo on her chest it was, it was like an exterminating angel or something, and she asked us if we were a couple. and i blushed remember? and you, you laughed. you said, you said, oh no no no. we've just met, but i have my designs on her. that's what you said. that you had designs on me. and that woman, remember she, she had three daughters with different men and she had just had her tubes untied and she was looking for a man to inseminate her. remember? and then vicki walked over and started interrogating me, but i didn't care at this point cuz i was already drunk a little bit, and...i just wanted her to leave so i could be alone with you.

and then?

i drove you home.

and then what?

you know what.

what?

we kissed.

if you haven't seen things you can tell just by looking at her and you're a woman...stop whatever you're doing and get in your car or on your bike or on a bus and go...right now, to your local video store and rent it. and watch it. that means you. all my ladies. my ladies who are the fucking tits. that means you.

some things i totally love today....

Mon, 20 Mar 2006 00:36:59 GMT

-yeah. and mom says we have a chore wheel.

a what?

a chore wheel. you put chores on it and it, then you can spin it. there's this metal thing. and it helps it to spin. it's spinning from the metal.

-well actually, i was thinking tyrone is like when we die of old age and this is like our whole life together, this walk.

-if you really love me, then let's make a vow, right here, together, right now. ok?
alright.
alright.
repeat after me.
i'm gonna be free...i'm gonna be free.
and i'm gonna be brave...i'm gonna be brave.
i'm gonna live each day as if it were my last. oh that's a good one. you like that? yeah. say it. i'm gonna live each day as if it were my last.
fantastically...fantastically.
courageously...courageously.
with grace...with grace.

-architecture in helsinki are from australia

-bitch mag's 10 years of feminism and pop culture issue

-sabrina ward harrison

-cj and the flute player from frank zappa and the mothers of invention.

-my tape recorder

-the first paragraph from a confederacy of dunces.

-how amazing all my girlfriends are...my girlfriends are the fucking tits.

i'm about to commence cleaning the chaos that is my room. what i really wanna do is splatter paint everywhere, but my dad has the flu and i don't think he's up for dealing with my shenanigans. so i'll just clean. and then i'm gonna make some art. and finish my mag in my hammock. and eat some crackers and cream cheese and raspberry chipotle sauce. omg.

at work...tra la la

Mon, 27 Feb 2006 19:20:55 GMT

so i got a job in austin over the summer. which is totally rad and totally sucky all at the same time. cuz i can't take it. well i guess i could. but i'm not gonna. cuz right after i got the job via telephone interview, my friend kelli called me and was like, "ok. i'm in. let's do this." which means we're leaving for oz in january. which means i gots to start saving money. which means i can't take a pay cut over the summer to save the environment and risk not having this job when i come back. so i guess i gotta suck it up and keep this job for 10 more months. ugh. but i also guess i shouldn't complain cuz i'm banking and i'll totally have enough money to pay off most of my loan and still get to oz with a little cash flow.

omg. best. ever. music. festival. bonnaroo. i'm totally driving my ass to tenessee.

http://www.bonnaroo.com/2006/

i told mark i was coming last night. he freaked out a little in a really good way. the timing was a little off though, cuz when i called him he was walking to the manly ferry to meet some girl for a date. which oddly enough didn't really bother me. but watch. they'll totally fall in love and when i get there he'll be like, ummmmm, i was only kidding. it's cool. i don't even know what i fucking want anymore. everyday i get more and more used to the idea that the life i want to live doesn't really allow much room for another person. at least not another permanent person. at least not for a long time. maybe never. and i think i might be ok with that.

i wish i was rich so i could take jess and myka and riss and brae with me everywhere.

austin next weekend!!!! oooooo!!! i'm so excited i could spit. little willy b is coming with me to see mates of state and phosphorescent. oi oi.

it's been awhile...yep yep yep

Tue, 17 Jan 2006 21:25:50 GMT

i wrote in my "real" journal on sunday, and i've decided....

that writing in that journal is the equivalent of getting a massage or acupuncture or running 3 miles. purging. i forget this so often that i thought i should make a note to remind myself so i don't go 100 years again without writing in it.

also, when you combine writing with sunday...it's a little like crack, ya know, without the bad skin and jail time.

i'm going to austin this weekend. freaking out a little. i can't wait to eat some goddamned tacos on saturday and sunday morning and to go to ani's art party. i also can't wait to hug kallie's freaking neck. molly, sadly, will be in boston which sucks alot. more than i even care to comment on. but lauren and i should have a splendid night on the town if i have anything to say about it.

god, my ass gets so sore from sitting in this chair all day on the phone. i gotta figure something out. anyone have a desk job and have any suggestions as to how to combat uncomfortable chair ass? i wish i could walk around while i was on the phone, but alas, it is not permitted.

what else...oh yeah, well i guess i'm in argyle now. living with the rents...working 8-5...watching network tv...i kinda had a breakdown this weekend. it was the first weekend away from austin after i started my job. but i made it through. i'm trying not to think about things and just take stuff a day at a time until i adjust. and then hopefully, by the time that happens, i'll have been back to austin enough and will be moving to japan or back to australia and will have half of my loan paid off and won't even realize that an entire year has passed. i think i can hold it together for that long. it's just hard for me to do the same thing everyday...over and over and over. i gotta figure out how to switch it up and i know i will. i just gotta get into a groove first in order to be able to thwart it.

also, i wish i could give riss magical powers. if anyone should have them, it's her. she can definitely handle them...in fact, she would rock them like what.

Wed, 19 Oct 2005 01:37:12 GMT

i was going to carve a pumpkin
it is autumn after all
or do the dishes so you won’t have to wash a bowl in the morning
read about an aging man taking one last journey before death takes him
but alas, my porch holds more sway than even pumpkins
and i could hear its emptiness…its longing for the sound of pencil scratching across paper
or was that my own?
the old wood full of mold and memories
it’s seen everything that’s come to and everything that’s gone from this place for sixty-four years
and it’s absorbed all of this laughter and all of these tears
lost an old friend…now only rings remain
and gained another
and will hold these words immortal until the old house crumbles
and with it the wood dies too
its last breath an exhalation of all that life
and of these words
so that a passerby won’t really understand why a smile has parted their lips as they move past the lot
but the old man in the rocking chair across the street will
he’ll see, even with his failing eyesight, the subtle transfer
the words released
swirling lightly above the woman’s head
dancing around her body
on point
graceful and lovely
before they gently sink into the woman’s creamy bronzed skin
and the woman will know this:
what it’s like to be twenty-four and feel like you’re sixteen again
to embrace a moment with such ease and feel such contentment
that death, for an instant at least, doesn’t seem quite so scary
what it’s like to want to lean across her while she’s sleeping
and stick your head out of the window to hang out with the moon
because you need a favor
and you and the moon are soul sisters and old friends
and you know she’ll be down
she’s seen her too and doesn’t blame you one bit
“she’s very pretty,” the moon whispers and then
she just winks at you, crinkles up her nose, and laughs
and does you the favor without even asking you what it is
her breath bounces off the stars and slides into the trees that surround you house
and if someone had been walking by at that exact moment
they would have stopped, perplexed
but there was no one there to hear the silence except you
the crickets cease playing and listen eagerly for their new assignment
whispered through the trees by their conductor
when they commence once again
a symphony fills the room with her name…an ode to joy
“thank you,” you whisper back…
and the woman will know what it’s like to feel past conditioning sloughing off
what it’s like to pull you head back into the window
ease back into the nook on the right side of her body
slide your fingers through hers
what it’s like to hold her hand against your leg
until you can’t tell the difference between her hand and your hand
until her thumb twitches
releasing a thousand blue morphos in your stomach
and the woman will know this: she will know love

Tue, 20 Sep 2005 01:00:07 GMT

The turn around commences as we look at the burden of history in terms of separate periods of the subconscious.

i'm reading Faulkner...Light in August. he seems to have this way of capturing heaviness...of grasping the subtle and often elusive moments paramount to understanding someone's psyche...and he does this with characters...people he created in his mind. sometimes i am completely smitten with novelists.

i may have just read one of my favorite short stories ever...Luis Alberto Urrea "First Light"...i wanted our ribs to intertwine. i dreamed of a lifetime of the taste of your mouth.

so here's this:

People always take things for granted until they are gone. Everyday she wishes Isobel’s scent would flood her senses like it used to. She never actively sought out the smell, but she knew she would run into it one day. A day like today. She lies on her bed, still. She remembers Milan Kundera. Speed and forgetting. Slowness and memory. Slow down. She squeezes her eyes tight, like if she squeezes hard enough she can keep the images trapped under her eyelids. The smell of fall, the crisp air, invades her senses and she is rushed backwards. She imagines a wrinkle in time from the book she read as a child. There is a point in time and a straight line to get to that point, but someone has folded time back and forth into an accordion and now she is scurrying over the tops of the folds, bypassing everything.

*Stella, Isobel, and I were a trio of superheroes. We could have saved the world. But it fell through. So we decided we should live on an island and eat mangos. No worries. Stella lived with Sebastian and they had a son, the bear. No one ever called him Braedyn. We all worked together just across from Stella and Sebastian’s at a treatment center for abused and neglected children. Heavy, but we all managed somehow. Stella and Sebastian’s became a second home for all of us and if it had been bigger, we probably would have all moved in…

-patchouli: noun (also patchouly) / ‘pa-ch&-le, p&-‘chu-le / etymology: Tamil pacculi

*Isobel was lying on the couch recovering from work. Emotional day. The incense stick she had burned earlier was a string of light brown ash clinging desperately to the windowsill. Not having a burner she just let it jut out from the sill with something heavy to hold its end, and the ash fell to the floor. Only this stick was refusing to let go. She lit it in the morning and it had hung around all day. I knew she was lying there wondering when it would take the plunge…

-a heavy perfume made from a fragrant essential oil from an East Indian shrubby mint (Pogostemon cablin)

*I left a muffin on the counter one day. When I got back to Stella’s I found a note where the muffin had been. There was a picture of a muffin with a frog inside at the top of the note.
rhen, I ate your muffin. I’m sorry. I can’t control myself around baked goods. So I made you this muffin which is far superior to the one I ate in many ways. for example, there is a small frog in the center that when licked makes all of your wildest fantasies become reality. yet all of the fantasies remain firmly in your control, so as to avoid the messy cliché of negative consequences that usually accompany this sort of thing, casting a puritanical “the grass is never greener” pall over the whole affair. by the time I finished that I was full, so half of the non-magical, edible muffin is in the fridge. stella…

-The plant has a “pungent, powerful, mossy, musty” fragrance. The viscous, orangey-amber oil is extracted from the leaves of a two to three foot perennial bush with purple-tinged flowers.

*tattoos in the red velvet tuxedo chair. the smell of green soap. the buzzing. I tried not to jerk my wrist as Sebastian traced the lines. Stella twirled around the room holding the bear and enlightening us with lines from her favorite novels. “Wildly he chased the shadow of her infidelity.” I still winced…

-The oil is thought to improve with age, and is used with camphor to give India ink its characteristic odor.

*bana runs at midnight, tubs of rice. “Joey, baby. I know you’ve heard it all before. So I won’t say it anymore. I’ll just sit back and let you fight your secret war.” sweaters, comfy emo sweaters. like Mr. Rodgers. raspberry yogurt covered raisins, carob covered almonds. spiky hair, bed head goo. old portfolios, old journals. the smell of paint. hot pink, mustard, lavender. dreams of Japan…

-In the 19th century, the fragrance was used to scent fabrics manufactured in India for export to Europe.

*Will hated the smell.
-“God, why don’t you go eat more incense nuggets. You smell like a head shop.”
-“Why do you hate everything?”
-“I just want you to like hippies less. I want you to say fuck the world, fuck the suffering.”
-“Yeah, well how bout I start with fuck you…”

-It is sought after and used as an antiseptic, deodorant, and tonic for the nervous system.

*“What happened?” Isobel was painting. The bear was asleep and Sebastian and Stella were outside smoking a cigarette.
“I don’t know, I just couldn’t hold him. Todd had to come in twice and re-restrain him. It’s like he had super human strength. We were both in that tiny room together and it was permeated with rage. He had so much rage. He’s only eight, Izzy. He was screaming and it wasn’t his voice, and he was kicking me so hard in the back, but I couldn’t move to any other position or I would have lost him again. We were both sweating and his wrists kept slipping. So I just had to let him kick me. And I tried to keep it together, to wait it out, but we were in there for over an hour. I just lost it. I was overcome with grief and I started crying. I kept quiet, but he looked back at me once while he was screaming and he saw me crying and Izz, his entire body went limp. He had been fighting me with every ounce of strength he could muster for over an hour, and he could have kept it up, but it’s like he saw how devastated I was. He finally understood that someone recognized his pain, his anger, his rage and empathized with him, wished they could heal him, and he just started sobbing. He curled up into a ball in my lap like a wounded animal and fell asleep. I had to keep wiping the tears off of my face so they wouldn’t fall on him. My heart broke in that room today Izz. It fucking broke.”
Isobel just put her paint brush down, walked across the room, and hugged me. I knew she would let me stay there as long as I needed, so I did…

Slowly, the accordion begins to stretch back out, the folds begin to disappear. The inexorable mind fog commences its warm embrace. She waits until the images have gone completely, until she can no longer hear their voices, before she opens her eyes. “Huh,” she thinks aloud. “A minute freed from the order of time.”

10 month time gap mafia

Mon, 15 Aug 2005 04:15:32 GMT

i just picked up my "real" journal and relaized that it has been that long since my last entry. i was still in australia ruminating over whether or not i should give will the chance he had asked for and not realizing what was about to happen...so i just spent the last couple of hours retracing the last 10 months. it was strange. i guess i haven't really sat down like that and thought about how much has happened since then. and i know i am missing alot of feelings and that makes me all sadfaced out.

i don't ever really know what to write on here anymore. does that seem weird to anyone? it seems weird to me. mars is gonna be the size of the moon at the end of this month. i heard some peeps at work discussing how to get mushrooms so they can stare at it on hallucinogens. that makes me laugh.

man, summer just made me a happy gal with her instant new music links. yes to summer! that ted leo song kills me.

there was some major d-town debauchery on friday night. josh, casey, lacey, klaus, will, vanessa, scott, and me. head spins and arm wrestling at the bar, 80's bed jump/dancing at will's. lacey, vanessa and i kinda sorta broke will's bed. ha! skinny dipping late night. all in all it was rather splendid, although i remained in a coma for much of the following day. pics soon on flickrness.

ani's dance party was awesome. as well as is ani herself. with her dancing shoes on. thriller! man, go ani!

my plan to move in with molls has pretty much been thwarted. the room is about the size of my closet. srzly. so now i have no clue. not a one. shit. and my tree is gone now. double shit.

s'ok. i gotta go watch jesus' son now. and vege. tubing tomorrow. woo!!

holy ballz on a stick!!!

Thu, 14 Jul 2005 08:43:57 GMT

MARK IS COMING IN NOVEMBER!!!!! I can't say that enough to make myself believe it. oh em gee! srzly!

and i have to dress like an oompa loompa.

and i'm crushing on my south african fiction prof. by god i WILL hook it up with a prof before i graduate. hahah!!! i kill me.

oh yeah...did i say mark was coming? cuz he is.

spike, snakes, sp 8000 forever...gh bike gang. what what!!

Mon, 04 Jul 2005 03:21:15 GMT

tried to write you a note
on the barf bag
on my way outta town
something nice
but i got nauseas
and had to puke in my note
your note
doesn't matter
my body must have known it was a lie
"time to stop pretending" it said
and i listened
i wish i could take my pumps off
crawl outta the exit window
walk
(unaffected by the 800 mile an hour wind)
down the wing
and fall backwards through a cloud
with my body twisted
into a strange shape
so that when i land on the cloud's shadow
i can see the hole i made
and laugh
like i was making a cloud cookie
and then i'll make a cookie cutter
in the shape of my body
and make real cookies
all different kinds
and send them to all my friends
and i'll have someone named richard
shove a surgical stainless steel bar
through the honeycombs in the back of my neck
just to see what it feels like
and i'll teach myself to learn again
learn how to pretend without retching
pretend that i'm not a total cynic
pretend that i think nice boys really do exist
cuz if that's the way it is
then that's the way it is

people fucking suck!!!

Mon, 04 Jul 2005 02:43:15 GMT

srzly.

what the fuck is up with people being all guarded and shit?! i mean i get it. everyone has been hurt. people are trying to decrease their chances of being hurt again in the future.

boring.

fuck. being hurt is a part of life. it's gonna happen. if anything it makes the times when you're happy that much more significant.

i've been hurt before. alot. i'm not walking around all zombied out and incapable of intimacy and then making excuses for it like it's something else. god! fucking! damnit! i hate evreything! i just wanna smash everything...

well i just figured....

Tue, 07 Jun 2005 00:32:58 GMT

if you didn't hear from me, you'd know. this = consideration. yep it does. you didn't know? better get on top of your shit then...

oi dancing boy...

Mon, 06 Jun 2005 06:11:22 GMT

i think i need to become a nun or a buddhist....

shouldn't you be allowed to have expectations? i mean they always ruin everything...they ruin me everyday. but if you stop having them, doesn't that mean you've given up? doesn't it mean you don't give a fuck anymore? that you're apathetic? i get so angry when i think about trying to rid my life of expectations...i don't want to give into apathy. i want someone to fucking live up to my expectations...my seemingly impossible expectations. i mean what the fuck is that even about? they're not impossible. consideration is not only not impossible, it's fucking easy. fuck.

whore whore whore

Sat, 04 Jun 2005 07:00:07 GMT

golden honey skin brushes against my cheek and my insides quiver and quiver and collapse...

i feel like HH and trent is holding the apple and burning a hole through me with his eyes...and he's about to take a bite and i'm dying inside.

Sun, 01 May 2005 17:43:10 GMT

i'm sitting on the floor trying at a bass guitar
i'm all thumbs
people are lying to me
i am running from so many absurdist ideas
in the jungle
i am being pulled up the river
the current
is tugging me by the heart
so willing that it thwarts the drag created by my body
the river narrows, becomes steeper
but the water is still flowing up
defying so many absurdist ideas
no one will believe me
i am finally climbing up the fall
moving with the water
walking all over the tangled vines
pulling at their skin
what did they expect? they're just a complicated mess of
clingy love and evolution
and aren't we all?
but who really wants complicated?
ME! ooo! ooo! ooo! I do! over here! me!
i reach the top but someone is zipping up their
bright yellow sleeping bag
sealing me inside
of this reality
this is mine?
this is mine
the dark side of grandeur
and bug spray reminds me of my youth
and a wrist of nintendo controls
i am walking down glebe point road ducking into
alleyways rotting with stale urine and spirits full of pain
i am throwing the first thing i see at the wall
i am crying until my eyes burn from history and eyeliner
non c'e' niente
oh yeah and the pax romana was bullshit
and maybe Sartre was right

Thu, 21 Apr 2005 03:10:03 GMT

FUCK!!!!!

man, this organic ginger ale tastes like poo...

Wed, 20 Apr 2005 16:50:29 GMT

so I miss Larissa like I would miss my opposable thumb...all i want to do is lie in bed with her and giggle and eat flinstone push up pops...orange.

lauren is my salvation and my source of laughter these days...she fucking totally brings the rad. she called like 5 places yesterday and priced kegs for my party and offered to pick it up and such. i know that secretly she just wants to be able to pick the beer that will go in the keg...he he. j/k our talks about, well...everything are seriously an enhancement to my life. and this was all before the absence of will, but it makes his absence seem less important because honestly, one of the things i was worried about was missing will's humor...and between phone calls with riss and lauren's incessant wit, i laugh all the time...and i'm allowed to be serious if i want to as well. imagine that. friends with facets to their personalitites.

sarah has invited me to go to NY. omg yay! may 5th through may 9th. i'm totally freakin out. sarah and me in NY spells trouble. say a prayer that if i don't have enough sweet mulah by the time may 5th rolls around, that my mom will give me an advance on my bday present. so i guess i'm saying say a prayer that my mom will give me money cuz i'll never have enough by then with my suck ass job. man, alamo drafthouse can lick my puke.

i'm not gonna meet my sweet internet boyfreind today. ha ha. but maybe friday. and if not then he's definitely coming to my party. double yay!

more to say but i have to start my day...wow i'm so gay and happy like yay about my soiree...he he

Sat, 16 Apr 2005 14:58:13 GMT

man...being unsure of what or whom your daily life will consist of is really fucken scary. its weird that you can have routine comforts and then kinda dispose of them in this one moment and hard to think about all the people who have to do that for whatever reason...how many people are walking around kinda freakin out and carrying all this pain and harboring all of these emotions just below their skin...people who make a decision (prolly for future well being) and in one moment they are alone...in this already vast and impersonal world.

but i guess one of the emotions bubbling just under the skin is courage...it has to be. so there's that.

well, i guess i should put the aforementioned into perspective. will and i are getting divorced...got a divorce...are divorced. separation and return of possessions occurred yesterday at 5:17 pm. seperation of spirit tba. but in reference to all that, i just decided to read a michelle tea poem and i decided that i would just open the book and read whichever poem was on the page. note:

My Mother Getting Divorced

she kicked that man
out of her house-well,
he kicked her out,
and her two kids, too, but
either way he is gone and
first i was afraid
i was petrified
kept thinking i
could never live
without you by my side
she is singing she is taking
over her children's stereo
madonna billy idol and wham!
slide to the floor, she is careless
she is fearless she is dancing
through the house to gloria gaynor
oh no not i, i will survive
and seeing this weak woman
rise up strong and kick across
the living room does not make
her children smile and cheer
it is just one more freaky
fucking thing, one more crazy
mood swing, and anyway,
right now it's
go on now go
walk out the door
but tonight she will be crying with dionne
why do you have to be a
heartbreaker
when i was being who
you want me to be
and so her kids aren't buying it,
they crowd in front of mtv
and wait for the return
of their stereo
while their mother,
that wild woman,
takes that small chunk of freedom
the first time it's ever hit her hands
and she squeezes it, she works it
she knows how thing leave quick,
chased away by the pounding
of an ex-husband at the door
or the promise of a new husband
in the sly glances of a strange man
she is a woman between men,
she is lightening, she is storming
she will grind that freedom
till it runs like sweat down her skin
and when her kids and her men
swing back to her eyes
it will be like waking
from a good, good dream
she thought was real
she will catch her breath and
flush red and cry stupid
but right now it's
i got all my life to live
and i've got all my love to give
and i'll survive
i will survive
hey hey

a little strange don't you think, that i opened to that page?

man

Mon, 11 Apr 2005 15:46:19 GMT

wanna know what line kills me? "take your medicine, I won't ask where you've been." that breaks my heart in so many ways.

so here's me: falling asleep to a song on repeat that begins "once we get to the end of this song then it will begin again" and having a nightmare. my psyche is plagued by something cuz the nightmares won't relent. i wish i knew what it was, so i could purge it, and have my sweet dreams back. i miss them like whoa.

wanna know what sucks? my textbook, my college level textbook, for my children's literature class, has lines such as this: The amount of text on the pages of a picture book determines how long it will take to read the book...someone stab me please.

well this is boring in the superlative...late

Sat, 09 Apr 2005 22:07:46 GMT

so the lemon jelly screensaver is my new favorite thing in the world...

and rissa's hot sexy mouth picture...HAHAHA!

and the official start of my summer...hopping the geriatric pool fence, hanging out with Ishmael, and getting a heinous sun burn...woop woop.

oh yeah and one more thing...

Wed, 06 Apr 2005 03:58:27 GMT

I've decided that for every new period in my life...new house, new job, new boy, new city, state, country, continent, etc...i will adopt a new smelly good product such as lip gloss or lotion. this way each period in my life can be linked with a specific smell and when the period is over I can summon it from the depths of my mind by simply recreating the smell...you know that thing that happens when you catch a whiff of a familiar smell and a whole set of emotions is tagging along piggy back style. i love that. so i'm going to manipulate it. gee, aren't i clever?

so my new period is this: new house (which includes many future summer days up on the roof, parties as often as I can throw them, and sweet green walls) new job, new friends kind of,(and even some old friends that are like new--Bonnie) geriatric pool summer days with Lauren just around the corner, and reading excessively

my new smell: coconut lime verbena lotion....mmmmm

the word for the day is yawp...

Wed, 06 Apr 2005 03:19:19 GMT

that's really all...

oh yeah and I watched a film yesterday that changed my life.

i'm moving home in december, saving money for a year while I learn spanish and portugese and then i'm bound for latin america for at least a year. then prolly japan for a year teaching English. then to europe, the rest of asia, and africa and wherever else i wanna go and whatever else i want to do. i give myself until I'm thirty...thats six years. then it's back to grad school. so there's my 8 year plan. oi!

10 points to whomever can name the movie my mood is from...