a polar shift and one second extra...
or maybe left behind.
And when these lights zoom past me and i have to pull and pull at my skirt hem, i feel dizzy. One more second that didnt exist before.
reset the atomic clocks.
reset the human race.
backspace space space space delete.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Monday, December 1, 2008
7
mega freak out last night. Still not sleeping. Still insomniatic 23 years later.
Today I wrote 11.30.2003 on the top of my paper. I was confused and for the quickest moment I couldn't comprehend how 5 years had passed and still I was the same kind of fucked up.
The kind that longs for 17 when 17 actually sucked. And the kind that is dwarfed by fear on a nightly basis.
oh hell oh hell oh hell.
Today I wrote 11.30.2003 on the top of my paper. I was confused and for the quickest moment I couldn't comprehend how 5 years had passed and still I was the same kind of fucked up.
The kind that longs for 17 when 17 actually sucked. And the kind that is dwarfed by fear on a nightly basis.
oh hell oh hell oh hell.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
The Mathematics of Distance.
She is not sure of her own sanity. Last night she was stuck between two giant fears. She was afraid that, as she lay on the floor of her sisters apartment, a few blocks away, her apartment was burning down.
She closed her eyes to hear the sirens.
The second thought put her into a less immediate panic, but emptied her of any full she felt. It was an instant but she was able to stop it, slow it down and see it. Maybe the Matrix was right, she hadn't even seen the whole thing, but it made so much sense that we were all just plugged into some giant dream generator. She thought that perhaps all her relationships were intended and feigned, that everything feeling like reality was just a psychotic delusion marred from the bottom of a grey steel cell with her arms wrapped locked around her body.
She opened her eyes and felt the carpet and her hair and her face and her thighs.
Tangible does not mean real. Imploring ones self to see rationally does not mean one will and then she was frightened. She cried because maybe this confusion was the only real thing. That the reason music is always playing, and she reads books with implausible situations, and drinks heavier than the city rains is because the need to withdraw herself is too great. Because in order to continue she needs to lie to herself until the death.
She holds her eyes open in fear of dreaming.
The day is numb but the night is for her. She falls into sleep and drops into strange places. She stands on cliffs miles above the earth only to see it has been flooded. She watches her friends die in black and white and red. She hears clapping and laughing and runs through long blue corridors of old crumbling buildings wondering if she will see the one solace.
She pulls her knees to chest and cries. Long slow heaves that pull swollen organs.
In her he leaves a trail of absence, and stirs in her an inexplicable amount of everything and nothing. There is a love with no label, and questions all together the science of this LOVE.
a+b=x but x=x and a= nothing at all.
but with him a+b=ab, and x=x, and on its own a= nothing, but paired with b, a becomes real.
She stands up and walks into the bathroom and writes these equations on the mirror with eye pencil. She sees them reflected twice and wishes she could squeeze an = between the reflections so there would be less mess. Purged onto the mirror she stands back and feels her left hand palpitate. Blood flows alright and she sits on the toilet drawing her knees to her chest. She is a. And he is b. and with out the other neither make sense.
and it makes perfect sense.
a remembers when once she told b when b feared his sanity...
...because you are not a normal person, if they cut you open it would be caverns and magnets and polars and alchemy would resurface as the ancient truth and in it is all because of you. We are not normal people. And we don't have a normal friendship. And this wont end badly because we both need each other too much, as both tangible and intangible movements.
She empties her head and sees her with him, standing on the edge of the end of the world with the only hand to hold is his.
She closed her eyes to hear the sirens.
The second thought put her into a less immediate panic, but emptied her of any full she felt. It was an instant but she was able to stop it, slow it down and see it. Maybe the Matrix was right, she hadn't even seen the whole thing, but it made so much sense that we were all just plugged into some giant dream generator. She thought that perhaps all her relationships were intended and feigned, that everything feeling like reality was just a psychotic delusion marred from the bottom of a grey steel cell with her arms wrapped locked around her body.
She opened her eyes and felt the carpet and her hair and her face and her thighs.
Tangible does not mean real. Imploring ones self to see rationally does not mean one will and then she was frightened. She cried because maybe this confusion was the only real thing. That the reason music is always playing, and she reads books with implausible situations, and drinks heavier than the city rains is because the need to withdraw herself is too great. Because in order to continue she needs to lie to herself until the death.
She holds her eyes open in fear of dreaming.
The day is numb but the night is for her. She falls into sleep and drops into strange places. She stands on cliffs miles above the earth only to see it has been flooded. She watches her friends die in black and white and red. She hears clapping and laughing and runs through long blue corridors of old crumbling buildings wondering if she will see the one solace.
She pulls her knees to chest and cries. Long slow heaves that pull swollen organs.
In her he leaves a trail of absence, and stirs in her an inexplicable amount of everything and nothing. There is a love with no label, and questions all together the science of this LOVE.
a+b=x but x=x and a= nothing at all.
but with him a+b=ab, and x=x, and on its own a= nothing, but paired with b, a becomes real.
She stands up and walks into the bathroom and writes these equations on the mirror with eye pencil. She sees them reflected twice and wishes she could squeeze an = between the reflections so there would be less mess. Purged onto the mirror she stands back and feels her left hand palpitate. Blood flows alright and she sits on the toilet drawing her knees to her chest. She is a. And he is b. and with out the other neither make sense.
and it makes perfect sense.
a remembers when once she told b when b feared his sanity...
...because you are not a normal person, if they cut you open it would be caverns and magnets and polars and alchemy would resurface as the ancient truth and in it is all because of you. We are not normal people. And we don't have a normal friendship. And this wont end badly because we both need each other too much, as both tangible and intangible movements.
She empties her head and sees her with him, standing on the edge of the end of the world with the only hand to hold is his.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
2009
Bad Excuse
All accidents and this is not an excuse rather an explanation.
Abusers. I have nothing to give them. I say it too. “I have nothing to give you.” But they follow and then lash. I give them everything, like quarters dug from couch cushions to buy a few forties so you can forget just how broke you are. I give them that. It is all I have. they beat me swift slap and ask for more. Blue Velvet. Right? I am not a mess. I just want to escape my life. Or have everyone evacuate so it can just be me again. Riding a train with earphones stuffed into my head I want them to melt into me so I don’t have to take them off. Listen to Diamanda scream in my head, and her voice tremors the way I wish I could speak. I asked where normal was, and Boy said Minnesota.
Doubtful. Then she said that I was Venus with a heart like borealis ripping open the night sky and kissed me. We made fuck love till five then slept. I dreamt that I was a Satanist who believes in good. Lilacs shoved down the barrel of loaded guns. I am standing on a mountain of discharged shells. When we woke up she remembered she had lost her wallet. I shrugged with a plume of smoke and said “so what, go get another id.” she said she cant and threw her bag on the floor. She said she cant because she is on the Lam, arson. grand theft. possession of illegal firearms. and like felonious poetry I thought I was in love.
she raged on my kitchen floor with boys tears stuck in her eyes, and a line from tegan and sara came into my head.
“I would go to jail with only boys, just to prove I was as tough as you.”
When I told Boy all of this he smirked “you need to find the key to their heart.” he explained to me through computer screens. “then you own them. maybe you should stop thinking its so exciting, or ya know, ask yourself what’s wrong with being a felon?”
keys. keys. locks. chains. words. fucking so hard your skin looks like camouflage and when I sit down I can see all these veins. No one can touch those.
On the train speeding through tunnels I stretched my arms out and traced those veins that seemed to not even be a real part of me. like magic marker that is nearly dried out scratched against chemical white paper. I wanted Boy to see me cry because Boy still closes his eyes at night and wonders if I exist.
I still close my eyes at night and wonder if I exist.
I want Boy to see me cry. I want Boy to lift up his shirt and show me his back and expose the scars that sit evenly apart above his shoulder blades. But we together- it cant all mean this when this is ripped open. The land laid to waste and there really was nothing left. I cant help but wonder if maybe this is what Boys body looked like scaring over, the wounds holding hands as flesh pulled taught and renewed, re-birthed from the crusted old puss.
at night I close my eyes and wish for sleep.
She calls me up while I am writing words that will soon amount to a portrait of her. She is broken and I imagine her curled up in boxers and a shirt. its hard to picture her sad. When we fuck she smells like fire and earth and my orgasms are dreams of campfires. Her energy is celestial and I believe we call into existence something that didn’t before when we touch. Fire and Air. Polars.
Boy is polar to me too. But boy is my angel that I can not touch. She is everything I can touch, she is evil and perfect, brilliant and bad.
And my therapist said that something dark like oil ran through my veins. I stretched my arms out to show her these mapped out canyons that lead to rotting heart and I believed her. She also said that the devil runs between walls. whispering to me in sleep and one time I opened my closet door and he tumbled out looking like a faint shadow but I knew it was him because when he stood I could see he wings spread expanse across my room. As a child I saw this. I knew then nothing was right and everything was wrong. In my head he slides between walls and he will not drown.
So now I have that memory and two polars that when cross examined make up the same picture. She is the shadow and Boy has the wings. She beat boy to the punch and punched the ground this morning over a lost ID. a lost Identity, a warrant, and did I tell you she can siphon gas?
All accidents and this is not an excuse rather an explanation.
Abusers. I have nothing to give them. I say it too. “I have nothing to give you.” But they follow and then lash. I give them everything, like quarters dug from couch cushions to buy a few forties so you can forget just how broke you are. I give them that. It is all I have. they beat me swift slap and ask for more. Blue Velvet. Right? I am not a mess. I just want to escape my life. Or have everyone evacuate so it can just be me again. Riding a train with earphones stuffed into my head I want them to melt into me so I don’t have to take them off. Listen to Diamanda scream in my head, and her voice tremors the way I wish I could speak. I asked where normal was, and Boy said Minnesota.
Doubtful. Then she said that I was Venus with a heart like borealis ripping open the night sky and kissed me. We made fuck love till five then slept. I dreamt that I was a Satanist who believes in good. Lilacs shoved down the barrel of loaded guns. I am standing on a mountain of discharged shells. When we woke up she remembered she had lost her wallet. I shrugged with a plume of smoke and said “so what, go get another id.” she said she cant and threw her bag on the floor. She said she cant because she is on the Lam, arson. grand theft. possession of illegal firearms. and like felonious poetry I thought I was in love.
she raged on my kitchen floor with boys tears stuck in her eyes, and a line from tegan and sara came into my head.
“I would go to jail with only boys, just to prove I was as tough as you.”
When I told Boy all of this he smirked “you need to find the key to their heart.” he explained to me through computer screens. “then you own them. maybe you should stop thinking its so exciting, or ya know, ask yourself what’s wrong with being a felon?”
keys. keys. locks. chains. words. fucking so hard your skin looks like camouflage and when I sit down I can see all these veins. No one can touch those.
On the train speeding through tunnels I stretched my arms out and traced those veins that seemed to not even be a real part of me. like magic marker that is nearly dried out scratched against chemical white paper. I wanted Boy to see me cry because Boy still closes his eyes at night and wonders if I exist.
I still close my eyes at night and wonder if I exist.
I want Boy to see me cry. I want Boy to lift up his shirt and show me his back and expose the scars that sit evenly apart above his shoulder blades. But we together- it cant all mean this when this is ripped open. The land laid to waste and there really was nothing left. I cant help but wonder if maybe this is what Boys body looked like scaring over, the wounds holding hands as flesh pulled taught and renewed, re-birthed from the crusted old puss.
at night I close my eyes and wish for sleep.
She calls me up while I am writing words that will soon amount to a portrait of her. She is broken and I imagine her curled up in boxers and a shirt. its hard to picture her sad. When we fuck she smells like fire and earth and my orgasms are dreams of campfires. Her energy is celestial and I believe we call into existence something that didn’t before when we touch. Fire and Air. Polars.
Boy is polar to me too. But boy is my angel that I can not touch. She is everything I can touch, she is evil and perfect, brilliant and bad.
And my therapist said that something dark like oil ran through my veins. I stretched my arms out to show her these mapped out canyons that lead to rotting heart and I believed her. She also said that the devil runs between walls. whispering to me in sleep and one time I opened my closet door and he tumbled out looking like a faint shadow but I knew it was him because when he stood I could see he wings spread expanse across my room. As a child I saw this. I knew then nothing was right and everything was wrong. In my head he slides between walls and he will not drown.
So now I have that memory and two polars that when cross examined make up the same picture. She is the shadow and Boy has the wings. She beat boy to the punch and punched the ground this morning over a lost ID. a lost Identity, a warrant, and did I tell you she can siphon gas?
Friday, November 21, 2008
The rotting sea splits and all we have is this.
I cant really remember order but it began in this hogwarts like castle and there were these ghost warewolves there who kept telling me that I had to go to the ocean....
and then I am driving a taxi to the ocean , and pretty much it is miles and miles of desolate beach. its apparent that everything has been washed over and all there is is beach & ocean on one side of the small road, and more sand on the other. So I am driving and I can see all this debris on the horizon line of the ocean and then I see a group of people and Skyler is standing ontop of this log.
my brother calls and asks me if I can find his frat pin that he dropped in my taxi (a small yellow gold freemason pin) I find it and for the rest of the dream I am dropping it and picking it up, holding tightly onto it. meanwhile I park and get out and I go and stand next to you on this HUGE log there are other people who kept saying they were vampires and shit. and we watched at all these ships, starting to drift in and getting stuck on the beach. at one point Skyler and I were sitting right where the water meets
and note
the sky was like all grey and I didnt know what time it was, and it was warm
so we are sitting on the edge and all of a sudden this massive blue ship pops up from under the surface and gets washed ashore nearly crushing us, but he grab my hand and we run from it. then we sit on the log watching a double decker bus wash in attactched to a phone pole...more ships wash in slowly with the tide and whatever
then I realize we need to go to the bunker I was staying at and my mom was there and she was cooking for a ton of people
it was all these random people from my childhood and some of my friends now and i am getting upset bc she wont talk to Skyler. Shes cooking and I am starting to worry bc I am afraid my brother is going to get stuck in the dunes after night fall
one of my oldest friends David shows up and he walks in, grabs me and kisses me really hard on the mouth and drags me outside he tells me how before it all ends he needs to tell me that he loves me. He is gay, but he loves me with all his heart.
fin.
and then I am driving a taxi to the ocean , and pretty much it is miles and miles of desolate beach. its apparent that everything has been washed over and all there is is beach & ocean on one side of the small road, and more sand on the other. So I am driving and I can see all this debris on the horizon line of the ocean and then I see a group of people and Skyler is standing ontop of this log.
my brother calls and asks me if I can find his frat pin that he dropped in my taxi (a small yellow gold freemason pin) I find it and for the rest of the dream I am dropping it and picking it up, holding tightly onto it. meanwhile I park and get out and I go and stand next to you on this HUGE log there are other people who kept saying they were vampires and shit. and we watched at all these ships, starting to drift in and getting stuck on the beach. at one point Skyler and I were sitting right where the water meets
and note
the sky was like all grey and I didnt know what time it was, and it was warm
so we are sitting on the edge and all of a sudden this massive blue ship pops up from under the surface and gets washed ashore nearly crushing us, but he grab my hand and we run from it. then we sit on the log watching a double decker bus wash in attactched to a phone pole...more ships wash in slowly with the tide and whatever
then I realize we need to go to the bunker I was staying at and my mom was there and she was cooking for a ton of people
it was all these random people from my childhood and some of my friends now and i am getting upset bc she wont talk to Skyler. Shes cooking and I am starting to worry bc I am afraid my brother is going to get stuck in the dunes after night fall
one of my oldest friends David shows up and he walks in, grabs me and kisses me really hard on the mouth and drags me outside he tells me how before it all ends he needs to tell me that he loves me. He is gay, but he loves me with all his heart.
fin.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
no shame
...nope. None at all haha!
| Hottest Hookup | Biggest Breakup |
| Lindsay Lohan and Sa... | Madonna and Guy Ritc... |
| Favorite Jonas | Breakout Star of the Year |
| Joe | Lady Gaga |
| Baddest Bad Girl | Biggest Scandal |
| Amy Winehouse | Lindsay Lohan and sa... |
| Best Dressed | Worst Dressed |
| Rihanna | Aubrey O'Day |
| Hottest Hottie | Cutest Celebuspawn |
| Chace Crawford | Kingston Rossdale |
| Most Improved | Worst Trainwreck |
| Perez Hilton | Amy Winehouse |
| Most DVR-worthy Series | Biggest Box Office Blowout |
| True Blood | The Dark Knight |
| Celeb of the Year | |
| Rihanna | |
Who would you vote for?
Go to PerezHilton.com to vote!
Go to PerezHilton.com to vote!
Apocalyptic Saw dream
the lewd show has convicts in handcuffs being sucked off by two women. Tom cruise is dressed as Hitler and doing a mash-up with Kanyae West. There are lights are flashing and everything is insane. The people in my row and I get called by a man who looks like Marilyn Manson and we are brought into this dingy room filled with weird garbage. We are told we will sleep here for an undetermined amount of time, and I can see a man dart behind the door.
They bring us into a trial room and we are standing up in three rows. Andy is there and he freaks out and kills a guy. I escape home and tell Bex and she just throws her arms around him.
Skyler, me and the whole group get brought to a large piece of farm land and emptied into a house. We are told that we have one chance and we may use a golf club but there is only one. I escape before they arm the place. I run down the road and I am able to make it back home.
Skyler and I get picked up by a bus and he is taking all the blonde kids. I begin to notice that blonde is the trigger. we are brought to a beach and I am on the beach wit a few of these counselors. I am telling a story about how one time Alicia and I went to a beach and walked out a half a mile to this large sand trap. The tide is very low and receding but no one thinks much of it.
In my head I see a boy in brown laying on top of a mountain. he is on his back and he waves his arms and the ground begins to crack and the ocean begins to rise. I start running up and I am ready to swim. I am jumping up to higher and higher areas and the ocean is rising incredibly fast I am reaching for Skyler and he is running after me. It seems almost as if it coming from the ground as well. I manage to escape and am picked up by the bus driver who has lost all his kids, but he tells me we have one more required stop on the tour and he takes me to the gardens that lead to the initial house. I am fucked.
They bring us into a trial room and we are standing up in three rows. Andy is there and he freaks out and kills a guy. I escape home and tell Bex and she just throws her arms around him.
Skyler, me and the whole group get brought to a large piece of farm land and emptied into a house. We are told that we have one chance and we may use a golf club but there is only one. I escape before they arm the place. I run down the road and I am able to make it back home.
Skyler and I get picked up by a bus and he is taking all the blonde kids. I begin to notice that blonde is the trigger. we are brought to a beach and I am on the beach wit a few of these counselors. I am telling a story about how one time Alicia and I went to a beach and walked out a half a mile to this large sand trap. The tide is very low and receding but no one thinks much of it.
In my head I see a boy in brown laying on top of a mountain. he is on his back and he waves his arms and the ground begins to crack and the ocean begins to rise. I start running up and I am ready to swim. I am jumping up to higher and higher areas and the ocean is rising incredibly fast I am reaching for Skyler and he is running after me. It seems almost as if it coming from the ground as well. I manage to escape and am picked up by the bus driver who has lost all his kids, but he tells me we have one more required stop on the tour and he takes me to the gardens that lead to the initial house. I am fucked.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
And Now...
I am afraid I have made a mistake. I am afraid that I put my foot in the door and destroyed everything. And made you make bad decisions. And these thoughts I have of you are fantastic and perhaps unrealistic. And you are my dearest friend, and you will begin to love again I promise. And I want to be that love. And I want the golden gates to open her arms and pull you in. And I want there to be less fear ...no fear is unrealistic. And I understand that this could go awry. And I know that it may not work out. But I think its worth the try...
we have waited too long?
we have waited the right amount.
And now I am pacing. And now you are getting into a car and talking and emoting. And now I am typing this. And now someone is dying and wondering if they made mistakes and now they are hoping that the people out there act and dont end up unhappy and dead like he is about to. And now we are fucking up and hoping its for the right reasons. And now we do the things we have to. And now we hurt. And now we get better. And now we hurt other people. And now there are birds cawing outside my window. And now they are flying away. And now a woman is getting in a cab to rush to her dying father. And now he is waiting for her. And now they will be together. And now tears from her face as the cab pulls closer to the hospital. And now in your car her tears fall too. And now you wish you had tears to fall so she could see you hurt too. And now you are hugging. And now she is leaving. And now you are wondering if it was a mistake. And now two fat ladies with no ankles are passing by and staring at me for too long. And now a little girl with dredlocks is looking at me too. And now I am wondering if they see my apprehension. And now they are all passing me by. And now I am still sitting here. And now the cafe attendant asks me if I would like a re-fill. And now I am thinking of ways to fill my void. And now I know that nothing will fill my void. And now you are wondering if you can fill my void. And now you are wondering if I can fill your void. And now we know that we cannot fill each other voids. And now these voids are growing. And now we fear them consuming us. And now we remember that the pit black deeps of our voids will not get us. And now we are getting up. And now we are turning around. And now we are determined to be okay. And soon we can see. And now is a new beginning.
we have waited too long?
we have waited the right amount.
And now I am pacing. And now you are getting into a car and talking and emoting. And now I am typing this. And now someone is dying and wondering if they made mistakes and now they are hoping that the people out there act and dont end up unhappy and dead like he is about to. And now we are fucking up and hoping its for the right reasons. And now we do the things we have to. And now we hurt. And now we get better. And now we hurt other people. And now there are birds cawing outside my window. And now they are flying away. And now a woman is getting in a cab to rush to her dying father. And now he is waiting for her. And now they will be together. And now tears from her face as the cab pulls closer to the hospital. And now in your car her tears fall too. And now you wish you had tears to fall so she could see you hurt too. And now you are hugging. And now she is leaving. And now you are wondering if it was a mistake. And now two fat ladies with no ankles are passing by and staring at me for too long. And now a little girl with dredlocks is looking at me too. And now I am wondering if they see my apprehension. And now they are all passing me by. And now I am still sitting here. And now the cafe attendant asks me if I would like a re-fill. And now I am thinking of ways to fill my void. And now I know that nothing will fill my void. And now you are wondering if you can fill my void. And now you are wondering if I can fill your void. And now we know that we cannot fill each other voids. And now these voids are growing. And now we fear them consuming us. And now we remember that the pit black deeps of our voids will not get us. And now we are getting up. And now we are turning around. And now we are determined to be okay. And soon we can see. And now is a new beginning.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Dream Machine
I have been dreaming ALOT lately. The kinds of dreams where you wake up feeling exhausted because your mind was so active... yeah... sucks. I am trying to remember ones from earlier this week, but in the meantime I will post the one I had last night... super crazy.
so I dreamt about this girl who I keep dreaming about for some reason
this chick T ( I had a dream last week where her and I got married) and then I dreamt that my friends were on top of this huge cliff. The cliff was a plateau hundreds of miles above the earth. The earth was covered in water and everything was sunset colors. It started to pour, and we were running aroud on the top of this mountain cliff, like reeeeeeeally up there in the clouds
and at one point we are running to the edge and I see this weird blue fish... it was beautiful and It was still alive bc it was wiggling. I went to pick it up and throw it into the ocean but it stung me and latched onto me. I threw it to the ground and squeezed all the puss out of my hand which dripped out of my hand like sap. Then a couple minutes later this woman comes by and she reaches down to pick the fish up and the same thing happens to her except much worse. She comes over to us and is like "I want to show you something" meanwhile her hand is really fucked up. she takes a knife, cuts her hand off and begins to carve the fish really intricately, in spirals. She draws a square into the blue dirt and a small grill is created (?) and she fries the fish.
When I told my friend Skyler about the dream he said:
something so beautiful that sucks the life out of you... someone will save you from it and make you realize there is more beauty than the fish itself ( the person who saves you)
isnt it funny how other people can interpret your dreams but you cant? because you will make stuff up as you want it to fit your life. I think he is right in the interpretation. Anyway... dream memory purged.
so I dreamt about this girl who I keep dreaming about for some reason
this chick T ( I had a dream last week where her and I got married) and then I dreamt that my friends were on top of this huge cliff. The cliff was a plateau hundreds of miles above the earth. The earth was covered in water and everything was sunset colors. It started to pour, and we were running aroud on the top of this mountain cliff, like reeeeeeeally up there in the clouds
and at one point we are running to the edge and I see this weird blue fish... it was beautiful and It was still alive bc it was wiggling. I went to pick it up and throw it into the ocean but it stung me and latched onto me. I threw it to the ground and squeezed all the puss out of my hand which dripped out of my hand like sap. Then a couple minutes later this woman comes by and she reaches down to pick the fish up and the same thing happens to her except much worse. She comes over to us and is like "I want to show you something" meanwhile her hand is really fucked up. she takes a knife, cuts her hand off and begins to carve the fish really intricately, in spirals. She draws a square into the blue dirt and a small grill is created (?) and she fries the fish.
When I told my friend Skyler about the dream he said:
something so beautiful that sucks the life out of you... someone will save you from it and make you realize there is more beauty than the fish itself ( the person who saves you)
isnt it funny how other people can interpret your dreams but you cant? because you will make stuff up as you want it to fit your life. I think he is right in the interpretation. Anyway... dream memory purged.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Prop Hate & McCain
I think these quotes should be plastered over McCain & Palin and Vote Yes on 8 signs:
"People who talk about revolution and class struggle without referring explicitly to everyday life, without understanding what is subversive about love and what is positive in the refusal of constraints, such people have a corpse in their mouth"- Raoul Vaneigem
"No human difference matters much until it becomes a privilege, until it becomes the basis for
oppression. Power is the vector that turns minor into major.
"
-Michael Ignatieff
...also, to make it biblical, remember the story of Cain & Abel? How Cain slew his brother Abel for being accepted by god?
Mc CAIN? I wonder what will happen if Obama is chosen, will 'Cain slay his brother for being chosen by a nation? He keeps forgetting that Nationalism is at the root of all great evils. Keep up with the demagogic speeches and we will be no better than the Cananites.
"People who talk about revolution and class struggle without referring explicitly to everyday life, without understanding what is subversive about love and what is positive in the refusal of constraints, such people have a corpse in their mouth"- Raoul Vaneigem
"No human difference matters much until it becomes a privilege, until it becomes the basis for
oppression. Power is the vector that turns minor into major.
"
-Michael Ignatieff
...also, to make it biblical, remember the story of Cain & Abel? How Cain slew his brother Abel for being accepted by god?
Mc CAIN? I wonder what will happen if Obama is chosen, will 'Cain slay his brother for being chosen by a nation? He keeps forgetting that Nationalism is at the root of all great evils. Keep up with the demagogic speeches and we will be no better than the Cananites.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Secrets
I have been told something
that I mustn't repeat.
Secret can not contain this news
with in it's weak aluminum arms.
This one requires an iron cast,
a cement cage.
It begs for the depths of the
black erratic sea.
In me this information is sulfuric.
Poisionous lye rolling around my tongue.
I am suspended between two worlds
filled with its acrid gas.
Disbelief, as I swallow
hoping stomach acid will destroy it.
So I needn't tell a soul.
that I mustn't repeat.
Secret can not contain this news
with in it's weak aluminum arms.
This one requires an iron cast,
a cement cage.
It begs for the depths of the
black erratic sea.
In me this information is sulfuric.
Poisionous lye rolling around my tongue.
I am suspended between two worlds
filled with its acrid gas.
Disbelief, as I swallow
hoping stomach acid will destroy it.
So I needn't tell a soul.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
the stocks fell 777 pts yesterday
777? Aleister Crowley anyone?
and in case you were wondering. The world is about to end.
and in case you were wondering. The world is about to end.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
the best birthday gift.
time is strange, i find it weird that you are 23. weird too, that i am 24 (well, in 4 days, lets not push it, ha).
i know i have beaten the subject to death, as i tend to do, but i am beyond sad and remorseful about getting your hopes up then dropping them. i had so much joy in my little heart thinking about walking into your apt tonight and hugging you and seeing you face near mine.
i had it pointed out to me at a meeting last night that i look like shit. which is probably true, i have been stressing myself to the max, and my head hasnt stopped pounding for days. last night as i was laying in bed, it occurred to me for perhaps the first time, what it must have felt like watching me slowly kill myself and being sober all the while. all the tears and anxiety and HURT that won't be released, stops up some part of the body. like the endless headaches, for example. i don;t know how you did it, but i can't express enough gratitude for keeping me alive that year. you are much stronger than you give yourself credit for.
i want a life with you. and due to my addict tendencies, i wanna throw a fucking temper tantrum and scream and pound my fists "i want it NOW!!!!"
but, im working my ass off to change my thoughts and beliefs. i want to be the best person i can, for myself first, but i want to share it with you.
i didnt get what all the "work" in recovery i heard about meant, but i think im starting to get it. it means making responsible decisions, laying in bed with fists clenched and teeth ground, if need be, to stick to your convictions. with the hope this all leads to a better place.
i remember you used to express a worry that if you left, i wouldnt care, i would get over you and you would never be able to get over me.
even if we dont work out, ill never "get over" you. i gave you a piece of me, i took a piece of you. and ill never regret that. you will never be a "lora", either, i truely believe we have some reason to be lovers.
one time you asked me what i thought a girlfriend should be. i said something smart-assed. all i know is i want to be there for someone, to support their growth and experience, to share responsibilities, to make life better for them. and i would like the same in return.
we are seemingly impossible to break. teeth gritted til we can be us again.
i hope year 23 brings you closer to self-assured self-realization. you are already well on your way.
i love you now and always,
bb bat
bat. I love you.
i know i have beaten the subject to death, as i tend to do, but i am beyond sad and remorseful about getting your hopes up then dropping them. i had so much joy in my little heart thinking about walking into your apt tonight and hugging you and seeing you face near mine.
i had it pointed out to me at a meeting last night that i look like shit. which is probably true, i have been stressing myself to the max, and my head hasnt stopped pounding for days. last night as i was laying in bed, it occurred to me for perhaps the first time, what it must have felt like watching me slowly kill myself and being sober all the while. all the tears and anxiety and HURT that won't be released, stops up some part of the body. like the endless headaches, for example. i don;t know how you did it, but i can't express enough gratitude for keeping me alive that year. you are much stronger than you give yourself credit for.
i want a life with you. and due to my addict tendencies, i wanna throw a fucking temper tantrum and scream and pound my fists "i want it NOW!!!!"
but, im working my ass off to change my thoughts and beliefs. i want to be the best person i can, for myself first, but i want to share it with you.
i didnt get what all the "work" in recovery i heard about meant, but i think im starting to get it. it means making responsible decisions, laying in bed with fists clenched and teeth ground, if need be, to stick to your convictions. with the hope this all leads to a better place.
i remember you used to express a worry that if you left, i wouldnt care, i would get over you and you would never be able to get over me.
even if we dont work out, ill never "get over" you. i gave you a piece of me, i took a piece of you. and ill never regret that. you will never be a "lora", either, i truely believe we have some reason to be lovers.
one time you asked me what i thought a girlfriend should be. i said something smart-assed. all i know is i want to be there for someone, to support their growth and experience, to share responsibilities, to make life better for them. and i would like the same in return.
we are seemingly impossible to break. teeth gritted til we can be us again.
i hope year 23 brings you closer to self-assured self-realization. you are already well on your way.
i love you now and always,
bb bat
bat. I love you.
Monday, September 22, 2008
A hibernation.
I had so many expectations. So many things I had planned and this heart that is rotted, for a moment felt full. I had dreams in which it had already happened and it made the passing of time feel fluid in my head. I wanted something I couldn't have. Maybe I can never have it again.
But I wanted.
I wanted with such a full soul. I had this need and desire that burned at night. Illuminated my organs and pulled at my throat making me sing. Stolen minutes between classes, on walks, or any spare moment was consumed with you.
And now it is not.
Now it is consumed with you and how I do not have you. Can't have you.
Will probably never know you again.
Listen to Devendra Banharts "I remember".
Dont listen to Regina Spektor. She will make it hurt much worse.
I remember.
I remember a faraway laugh
A sweet caress
You'd help me zip up my dress
I remember your arms around my neck
21 shells wrapped in my nest
Endlessness
Didn't last
I won't change
Given the chance
And I remember no place for me to hide
Before you came home at night
I remember you turning out the lights
All I ever saw was the red in your eyes
No big surprise
Happened nearly every night
Your own flesh and blood
I did wonder why
I remember not knowing what to say
And how calm you had remained
Your child stillborn with no name
I remember the never-ending summer rain
Oh
Please don't let what was get in the way of what's next
Don't forget
That what's to come hasn't come yet
http://www.myspace.com/illbepissedifthisurlistaken12
But I wanted.
I wanted with such a full soul. I had this need and desire that burned at night. Illuminated my organs and pulled at my throat making me sing. Stolen minutes between classes, on walks, or any spare moment was consumed with you.
And now it is not.
Now it is consumed with you and how I do not have you. Can't have you.
Will probably never know you again.
Listen to Devendra Banharts "I remember".
Dont listen to Regina Spektor. She will make it hurt much worse.
I remember.
I remember a faraway laugh
A sweet caress
You'd help me zip up my dress
I remember your arms around my neck
21 shells wrapped in my nest
Endlessness
Didn't last
I won't change
Given the chance
And I remember no place for me to hide
Before you came home at night
I remember you turning out the lights
All I ever saw was the red in your eyes
No big surprise
Happened nearly every night
Your own flesh and blood
I did wonder why
I remember not knowing what to say
And how calm you had remained
Your child stillborn with no name
I remember the never-ending summer rain
Oh
Please don't let what was get in the way of what's next
Don't forget
That what's to come hasn't come yet
http://www.myspace.com/illbepissedifthisurlistaken12
Sunday, September 14, 2008
don't put dogs blood in your bong.
I am confused about everything. What the hell else is new.
I am writing a lot. Onto this story that feels like a lead in a murder case or something. Anyhow, I havent slept properly in days. About 10 hours of sleep in the past 5 days, I feel crazy and last night I am pretty sure I imagined an entire conversation i had.
I am freaking everyone out. First this bartender tells me she was looking at my myspace and decided that I was the craziest person she knew, which is remarkable and upsetting.
Then I played this joke on my friend that I guess backfired. I told her that my friend and I had to leave the bar last night because we had stuff to do and she was like "what kind of stuff?"
D: oh you know, incantations and stuff... it is a full moon dude.
A: what? what are incantations?
D: prayers kinda... like, spells.
A: what? what do you pray to?
D: well, just like, things that can help me, bring me protection and what not.
A: like who?
D: Cthulu, Asteroth, Maab, you know..
A: ar eyou fucking kidding me dude? what do you do?
D: well its nothing big dude, dont freak over it, we just make a small cut on our palm. It is a blood sacrifice, I do it every full moon.
She freaks and gets out of the car and tells me we cant be friends anymore. It was supposed to be a joke, but I guess I knew too much or was like, too serious or whatever. Anyhow it blew up in my face and I had to convince her I was kidding.
Although on retrospection, I can see how she could have believed me. To someone who doesnt know this shit, it sure sounds like I do. And earler that night I made a joke because someone gave me a bottle of wine in a brown bag and she asked what it was. Joking I said "dogs blood".
I am an asshole.
Anyways its fine now. I just need to get better at hiding myself.
I am writing a lot. Onto this story that feels like a lead in a murder case or something. Anyhow, I havent slept properly in days. About 10 hours of sleep in the past 5 days, I feel crazy and last night I am pretty sure I imagined an entire conversation i had.
I am freaking everyone out. First this bartender tells me she was looking at my myspace and decided that I was the craziest person she knew, which is remarkable and upsetting.
Then I played this joke on my friend that I guess backfired. I told her that my friend and I had to leave the bar last night because we had stuff to do and she was like "what kind of stuff?"
D: oh you know, incantations and stuff... it is a full moon dude.
A: what? what are incantations?
D: prayers kinda... like, spells.
A: what? what do you pray to?
D: well, just like, things that can help me, bring me protection and what not.
A: like who?
D: Cthulu, Asteroth, Maab, you know..
A: ar eyou fucking kidding me dude? what do you do?
D: well its nothing big dude, dont freak over it, we just make a small cut on our palm. It is a blood sacrifice, I do it every full moon.
She freaks and gets out of the car and tells me we cant be friends anymore. It was supposed to be a joke, but I guess I knew too much or was like, too serious or whatever. Anyhow it blew up in my face and I had to convince her I was kidding.
Although on retrospection, I can see how she could have believed me. To someone who doesnt know this shit, it sure sounds like I do. And earler that night I made a joke because someone gave me a bottle of wine in a brown bag and she asked what it was. Joking I said "dogs blood".
I am an asshole.
Anyways its fine now. I just need to get better at hiding myself.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Thursday, August 21, 2008
WWIII
I just dreamt of the last holloween on earth. I was back in Nisky and tryng to rally troops of people to hang out. I was wearing a shower cap on my head while I picked at the guitar.
The sky was a purple grey like raining ash and in my back yard I saw lizards jump from their skins to become frogs, a witch hid in a log and screamed until her face melted off. In the back a grizzly bear shot a gun and killed the only hostage we had here. A pool of red light radiated, and I could no longer tell if this was my real life or a computer screen.
That night things got bad and my lover, who told her life story in a song held me tight and told me about how the entirety of Arab States was about to invade Europe and America and that we would have to hold on to eachtoher because the blasts were about to come.
She kissed me and when she kissed me I saw the purest white light.
When she stopped I saw red again.
She tried to get me to tell her why I wouldnt guess on what was going to happen.
I said something about how the hostages we were demanding back would make this situation worse than we could ever imagine and then the forest blew.
I kissed her again just to see purity.
As the walls tore away to a sea of dead animals she sang me the song of how she was destined to love me, and how she had been taught to sing at three by a mother who died the day she lost her tune.
wtf.
The sky was a purple grey like raining ash and in my back yard I saw lizards jump from their skins to become frogs, a witch hid in a log and screamed until her face melted off. In the back a grizzly bear shot a gun and killed the only hostage we had here. A pool of red light radiated, and I could no longer tell if this was my real life or a computer screen.
That night things got bad and my lover, who told her life story in a song held me tight and told me about how the entirety of Arab States was about to invade Europe and America and that we would have to hold on to eachtoher because the blasts were about to come.
She kissed me and when she kissed me I saw the purest white light.
When she stopped I saw red again.
She tried to get me to tell her why I wouldnt guess on what was going to happen.
I said something about how the hostages we were demanding back would make this situation worse than we could ever imagine and then the forest blew.
I kissed her again just to see purity.
As the walls tore away to a sea of dead animals she sang me the song of how she was destined to love me, and how she had been taught to sing at three by a mother who died the day she lost her tune.
wtf.
When we play adam and eve
When we grow old you will look like Dylan and I will have long red hair.
We will lie on a faded oriental carpet smoking joints and playing records.
I will write on white walls like paint and we will make love apocalypticlly.
and dylan he says "I'll let you be in my dreams if I can be in yours,"
and don't you know that the only person I want to end the world with is you?
We will lie on a faded oriental carpet smoking joints and playing records.
I will write on white walls like paint and we will make love apocalypticlly.
and dylan he says "I'll let you be in my dreams if I can be in yours,"
and don't you know that the only person I want to end the world with is you?
Friday, August 15, 2008
situational poetry
so I read last night and it went okay. I have a lot of feelings that I don't feel like sharing so I wont.
i think I did alright, and I am pretty suprised and pleased with all my friends for showing up. It really tells me who is real in my life. anyway.
blah..
i think I did alright, and I am pretty suprised and pleased with all my friends for showing up. It really tells me who is real in my life. anyway.
blah..
Saturday, August 9, 2008
My tattoo
I have an Ellipsis tattooed on my wrist, it is by far my favorite punctuation. I found this online and thought it was cool.
Dot Dot Dot: Using the Ellipsis Correctly
Posted by miss-write on
August 8, 2008
Certainly one of the most overused punctuation marks on the internet, a lot of bloggers and forum participants tend to use the ellipsis to show transition from one thought to another. Whereas the correct mark to use is the period or a comma, the punctuation mark of choice of most netizens is still the ellipsis. I must admit that there is a certain allure to the ellipsis. It exudes mystery and signals the unknown. The ellipsis is the harbinger of surprise — there is almost always something hidden from one’s view beyond those three dots.
Despite its ability to lure one to the dark side, one must remember that there are still specific and accepted ways of using the ellipsis. Like most punctuation marks, you can’t just bandy it about whenever the mood strikes.
More importantly, the ellipsis usually appears in two forms (though this is largely an illusion, as you will see later on): the one with three dots, and another with four dots. It may seem irrelevant, counting these dots, but trust me. This actually means something, and you don’t want to take any chances.
Here are some guidelines in using the ellipsis properly, after the jump:
1. Used to signify omission. When the ellipsis appears in a quotation, this means that the writer omitted a portion of the original text. Three dots (…) mean that the omission is within the sentence only. Four dots (….) indicate that the omission is between sentences. To be clear, this doesn’t mean the ellipsis actually has four dots; the additional dot is a period, and it is situation prior to the ellipsis. In short, the first dot is a period (marking the end of one sentence), followed by the ellipsis.
2. Used to indicate a pregnant pause. In literature, this often means that there is a specific reason tied to the plot whenever the ellipsis is used. It is contextual. Perhaps the speaker is attempting to conceal something from his listeners, or is unable to speak directly for some reason. In fiction, this often means that the character is intentionally mum on an important yet unrevealed matter. It can even signal hesitation on the speaker’s part.
3. Used to present an unfinished thought. This is related to number two. Often employed in literature, the character’s thoughts trail off and are marked with an ellipsis. Here the ellipsis is again combined with the period, resulting in four dots. If the thought trails off and there are no sentences following it, the result is an ellipsis followed by a period to indicate the end of the sentence.
(http://www.miss-write.com/2008/dot-dot-dot-using-the-ellipsis-correctly/)
Dot Dot Dot: Using the Ellipsis Correctly
Posted by miss-write on
August 8, 2008
Certainly one of the most overused punctuation marks on the internet, a lot of bloggers and forum participants tend to use the ellipsis to show transition from one thought to another. Whereas the correct mark to use is the period or a comma, the punctuation mark of choice of most netizens is still the ellipsis. I must admit that there is a certain allure to the ellipsis. It exudes mystery and signals the unknown. The ellipsis is the harbinger of surprise — there is almost always something hidden from one’s view beyond those three dots.
Despite its ability to lure one to the dark side, one must remember that there are still specific and accepted ways of using the ellipsis. Like most punctuation marks, you can’t just bandy it about whenever the mood strikes.
More importantly, the ellipsis usually appears in two forms (though this is largely an illusion, as you will see later on): the one with three dots, and another with four dots. It may seem irrelevant, counting these dots, but trust me. This actually means something, and you don’t want to take any chances.
Here are some guidelines in using the ellipsis properly, after the jump:
1. Used to signify omission. When the ellipsis appears in a quotation, this means that the writer omitted a portion of the original text. Three dots (…) mean that the omission is within the sentence only. Four dots (….) indicate that the omission is between sentences. To be clear, this doesn’t mean the ellipsis actually has four dots; the additional dot is a period, and it is situation prior to the ellipsis. In short, the first dot is a period (marking the end of one sentence), followed by the ellipsis.
2. Used to indicate a pregnant pause. In literature, this often means that there is a specific reason tied to the plot whenever the ellipsis is used. It is contextual. Perhaps the speaker is attempting to conceal something from his listeners, or is unable to speak directly for some reason. In fiction, this often means that the character is intentionally mum on an important yet unrevealed matter. It can even signal hesitation on the speaker’s part.
3. Used to present an unfinished thought. This is related to number two. Often employed in literature, the character’s thoughts trail off and are marked with an ellipsis. Here the ellipsis is again combined with the period, resulting in four dots. If the thought trails off and there are no sentences following it, the result is an ellipsis followed by a period to indicate the end of the sentence.
(http://www.miss-write.com/2008/dot-dot-dot-using-the-ellipsis-correctly/)
Thursday, August 7, 2008
the devil in me
I dreamt that I was eating at this small indian restaurant and I stole water without paying for it because it was a hot day and felt i shouldn thave to pay for water. The owner runs out after me and grabs me by the shoulders and starts chanting at me in latin or something, and I realize he is trying to hex me. After he is done chanting he explains that I will be like this forever and it was my own fate. He leaves me to go off in the world.
As I am walking I realize that there is something in me now. I have these powers. and I did have powers. I am on the beach later in the dream and these teenage boys surround me saying they heard I got hexed. One of them had a swastika tattooed on his forehead and they are teasing me. Suddenly i transform into this demon and part the solid earth creating a stairwell. I jump into the hole and begin shouting and cursing at them in demon. I lure them in one by one and send them all to hell, except for these two twin boys who were younger and clearly the brother of one of the boys.
Throughout the dream there are things happening to me that I cant stop. THings like people poking me on the back, or in darkness it looks like someone is shining a light in my eyes, I can move things, or once while I am packing up stuff trying to run away, I turn around and my blanket is suspended in mid air.
I also have a companion. It was this kid I went to highschool Don, who also was hexed by the same man. We try to talk to eachother but for some reason we are physically unable to explain much more than shallow things.
At another point in the dream I am on a bridge trying to get to a movie with my friends, and the bridge is closed off half way through so I have to speed to the cinema.
Another point I am in the bathroom of that same indian restaurant and I am in there with my friend, she excuses herself and goes out side. While I am in there, I look up and it looks like she is on the celing tapping into ice, or standing on it. I try screaming to her but she cant hear me (in reality she was just standing on a puddle) and I scream and she breaks through it, looking like she is going to drown. I realize that she has fallen into the ocean. I am able to transform into a pelican (because they are the most depressing animals) and I fly to the ocean to find her- to no avail.
the last segment of the dream I meet another man who is evil but not a demon. I close him in a closet excersizing my storngest powers and try to engulf him in flames. It doesnt work and he walks out unharmed and alive.
now... WHAT THE FLYING FUCK DOES ALL THAT MEAN!?
As I am walking I realize that there is something in me now. I have these powers. and I did have powers. I am on the beach later in the dream and these teenage boys surround me saying they heard I got hexed. One of them had a swastika tattooed on his forehead and they are teasing me. Suddenly i transform into this demon and part the solid earth creating a stairwell. I jump into the hole and begin shouting and cursing at them in demon. I lure them in one by one and send them all to hell, except for these two twin boys who were younger and clearly the brother of one of the boys.
Throughout the dream there are things happening to me that I cant stop. THings like people poking me on the back, or in darkness it looks like someone is shining a light in my eyes, I can move things, or once while I am packing up stuff trying to run away, I turn around and my blanket is suspended in mid air.
I also have a companion. It was this kid I went to highschool Don, who also was hexed by the same man. We try to talk to eachother but for some reason we are physically unable to explain much more than shallow things.
At another point in the dream I am on a bridge trying to get to a movie with my friends, and the bridge is closed off half way through so I have to speed to the cinema.
Another point I am in the bathroom of that same indian restaurant and I am in there with my friend, she excuses herself and goes out side. While I am in there, I look up and it looks like she is on the celing tapping into ice, or standing on it. I try screaming to her but she cant hear me (in reality she was just standing on a puddle) and I scream and she breaks through it, looking like she is going to drown. I realize that she has fallen into the ocean. I am able to transform into a pelican (because they are the most depressing animals) and I fly to the ocean to find her- to no avail.
the last segment of the dream I meet another man who is evil but not a demon. I close him in a closet excersizing my storngest powers and try to engulf him in flames. It doesnt work and he walks out unharmed and alive.
now... WHAT THE FLYING FUCK DOES ALL THAT MEAN!?
Monday, August 4, 2008
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Muse (unfinished)
The Muse.
"I once truly fell in love with an unseen friend-- who refused to meet me in real life, who became the object of my every desire, my muse, the reason I walked this planet-- with every cell of my heart."
He stands at her window and although she is supposed to review his photographs, she cant help but want to show him her own. She opens the blinds by flicking a switch located on the wall across from where he stands. She walks over to the couch and sits down, patting her dress down and tucking the trim around her slim ankles. She wonders if he notices how thin her waist is, how her stomach paunches from two pregnancies and a miscarriage.
He sits beside her and pulls a large black portfolio from his bag, spreading it on the table.
"This, mostly is my portraiture." Men with grey folded skin peer up at her. "Mostly derelicts, street kids, druggies." She is marveled by the precision, the thought of the photos, but holds her tongue.
“What is it, James, about them, that makes you want to take their portraits?”
James rests his elbows on his knees. His pants are gathered around his crotch, enough so she can see his groin bulge. She stares long enough to allow him a response.
“James? You know I ask you only for your benefit, but what makes you think that your photos will stand apart from the hundreds of other photographers who do the same thing?” She stands up and pulls a cigarette from the silver case on the table. “You can’t think that this is an innovative idea?” Kids with anarchy tattoos light up half smoked cigarette butts. Teenage girls hook at street corners. A nine year old boy is but a blur as he dodges through traffic.
. . . .
“Its not about the photo Liz, but the story behind them.” James stands half naked at the edge of his bed as the girl slides on her black panties, using the bed as a shield, careful not to expose too much.
“Well, James, you are a photographer, not a writer, so I don’t know what to tell you… Will you hand me that bra?” She points to the pink under-wire that is draped over an office chair. James runs his hands through his hair and pulls his binder over his head as Liz too hides her breasts.
“Well fuck that. She’s stupid and doesn’t get it.”
. . . .
“The boy, in this picture…” he points to the blur of a boy. She inhales deeper than intended, admiring his long fingers. “He was not hit, but almost. The car that almost hit him had to slam…”
“James?”
He looks up. Large eyes, even larger lips, and she suspects a bit of Japanese blood.
“You are a fool Mr. Reed. Your audience will never actually know what happened. There will be no caption, unless editorial, and might I add, this is not editorial work.” She waves the cigarette close to her face, an act of pure drama, and he follows the wand of smoke. “There will be no long drawn out explanation; a little behind the scenes. If you want to tell a story you must do it in one shot.” She emphasizes the last syllables and poses her hands up to her face again, mimetic of the clicking of a photo. James shuts his portfolio, stuffing it into his bag and stands up.
“So I need to just trash these then?” His voice is annoyed, yet there is still a shyness that she knew from class. She sits back down, patting the sofa beside her, and discreetly rolls her shoulders to expose her bust.
“No. You don’t ‘trash’ this collection. You need to find a muse. Something that moves you. What is it, that you love more than anything? That could entertain you for hours at a time, that you lose yourself to?”
She leans back. He opens his mouth to speak.
“Shh” She presses her finger to his lips. “I needn’t know Mr. Reed. Just show me.”
. . . .
“So like, then she asks me to do yard work for her.”
“What?” Liz sits at the vanity painting black rings around her eyes. She feels a kin to the photo of her great grandmother wearing a black dress and a long string of pearls. The eyes make her feel like the flapper her great grandmother was. She turns around and looks at him. He has his hands down his pants and is adjusting his pack.
“Yard work. We started in the living room which was fine. But then her cats meowed at the door, and she asked me to let them in. Honestly if she wasn’t my Professor I would think she was hitting on me. I totally thought she was a lez too, until she mentioned an ex husband and two sons.”
Liz turns around in her chair.
“Hitting on you? “ She smiles. “I mean, James, the thought of you being seduced by a much older woman is incredibly hot.”
“Babe, she has a 27 year old son. That is how old she is for Christ’s’ sake!”
“Hot.”
“No. Not hot.”
“I think your lying.” Liz stands up and sways over to James, She runs her hands up his shirt and kisses his neck. “If I dress up like an older woman, can I seduce you?” James grabs her hands and pulls them away.
“Well to spoil your fantasy she is not hot. She is like 5’0” and probably close to 200 lbs”
“Oh… “
“Yeah, Oh.”
. . . .
“James?”
“Yeah baby?”
“How did you even end up at Carols today?”
He laughs and kisses her cheek, and puts her head on his chest.
“well I was upstairs in my school, which is like a huge house, sitting on this black leather couch with my laptop in my lap and playing halo. Remember how I had to borrow your adapter.?”
“Oh yeah.”
“You know how it’s bigger than mine? Well Carols ex husband works at apple, so she comes over and starts bitching at me for having the wrong power supply or some shit.” James nudges her head off his chest and lights up a cigarette. “I told her mine was broken, and this was yours and blah blah. Anyway…” Liz sits up letting the blanket fall away from her, and grabs his cigarette. “She tells me to make an appointment at apple with her ex husband
“Well then she sees me later on and starts talking up this thunderous storm about how her cats have been acting really weird, and bitching about the internet not working. Then like, totally non-sequiter she asks me if I would like to review my portfolio with her later on because she is a part of the Review board…anyhow. So I say yeah, and after my Lit class I meet her in the Library. She asks if I will give her a ride home since she walked and that’s pretty much it.”
“ So she is a crazy cat lady, and then she ripped your portfolio a new asshole?”
“pretty much.”
“oh. Just wondering.”
. . . .
“I want you to pose two ways. One with your cock and tits, and one with your back turned.”
Her dress is loose, but it is obvious to him that underneath she is laced. He steps out of his pants letting them fall, revealing his already erect dick.
“May I keep my shirt on?”
“No. You may not.”
He un-buttons his shirt and slowly peels off his binder, conscious of the release of his breasts.
“ Don’t you need more light Mrs. Cochran?”
“No. And Shut up. Hopefully with this low of exposure we won’t see the harness, although if we do, it shouldn’t be such a bad thing.” She walks up to him, and sees him in a way she hadn’t before. He is a real boy. Or could be. His jaw is tight and sharp around the edge. His neck is long and extends down to broad shoulders, thin but toned arms, and if she squints, his breasts disappear.
Through the Lens he is a girl posing as a boy. Through the lens he is pale and scared, his shoulders look weak and his cock is fake. The areolas are dark and only enhance the shadows of his tits, but she hits the button anyway. She hits him anyway.
And he is like a child. He cries in slow motion and moves in waves, and in her a piece of him exists. She lets him cry in solitude, and perverts this sadness by the presence of a lens. A double shutter capturing more than what is human. An intangible existence stripped of everything but truth.
She learns his name was Jennifer. He puts his hands in her, and in her he is nearly crushed. A woman. A muse.
"I once truly fell in love with an unseen friend-- who refused to meet me in real life, who became the object of my every desire, my muse, the reason I walked this planet-- with every cell of my heart."
He stands at her window and although she is supposed to review his photographs, she cant help but want to show him her own. She opens the blinds by flicking a switch located on the wall across from where he stands. She walks over to the couch and sits down, patting her dress down and tucking the trim around her slim ankles. She wonders if he notices how thin her waist is, how her stomach paunches from two pregnancies and a miscarriage.
He sits beside her and pulls a large black portfolio from his bag, spreading it on the table.
"This, mostly is my portraiture." Men with grey folded skin peer up at her. "Mostly derelicts, street kids, druggies." She is marveled by the precision, the thought of the photos, but holds her tongue.
“What is it, James, about them, that makes you want to take their portraits?”
James rests his elbows on his knees. His pants are gathered around his crotch, enough so she can see his groin bulge. She stares long enough to allow him a response.
“James? You know I ask you only for your benefit, but what makes you think that your photos will stand apart from the hundreds of other photographers who do the same thing?” She stands up and pulls a cigarette from the silver case on the table. “You can’t think that this is an innovative idea?” Kids with anarchy tattoos light up half smoked cigarette butts. Teenage girls hook at street corners. A nine year old boy is but a blur as he dodges through traffic.
. . . .
“Its not about the photo Liz, but the story behind them.” James stands half naked at the edge of his bed as the girl slides on her black panties, using the bed as a shield, careful not to expose too much.
“Well, James, you are a photographer, not a writer, so I don’t know what to tell you… Will you hand me that bra?” She points to the pink under-wire that is draped over an office chair. James runs his hands through his hair and pulls his binder over his head as Liz too hides her breasts.
“Well fuck that. She’s stupid and doesn’t get it.”
. . . .
“The boy, in this picture…” he points to the blur of a boy. She inhales deeper than intended, admiring his long fingers. “He was not hit, but almost. The car that almost hit him had to slam…”
“James?”
He looks up. Large eyes, even larger lips, and she suspects a bit of Japanese blood.
“You are a fool Mr. Reed. Your audience will never actually know what happened. There will be no caption, unless editorial, and might I add, this is not editorial work.” She waves the cigarette close to her face, an act of pure drama, and he follows the wand of smoke. “There will be no long drawn out explanation; a little behind the scenes. If you want to tell a story you must do it in one shot.” She emphasizes the last syllables and poses her hands up to her face again, mimetic of the clicking of a photo. James shuts his portfolio, stuffing it into his bag and stands up.
“So I need to just trash these then?” His voice is annoyed, yet there is still a shyness that she knew from class. She sits back down, patting the sofa beside her, and discreetly rolls her shoulders to expose her bust.
“No. You don’t ‘trash’ this collection. You need to find a muse. Something that moves you. What is it, that you love more than anything? That could entertain you for hours at a time, that you lose yourself to?”
She leans back. He opens his mouth to speak.
“Shh” She presses her finger to his lips. “I needn’t know Mr. Reed. Just show me.”
. . . .
“So like, then she asks me to do yard work for her.”
“What?” Liz sits at the vanity painting black rings around her eyes. She feels a kin to the photo of her great grandmother wearing a black dress and a long string of pearls. The eyes make her feel like the flapper her great grandmother was. She turns around and looks at him. He has his hands down his pants and is adjusting his pack.
“Yard work. We started in the living room which was fine. But then her cats meowed at the door, and she asked me to let them in. Honestly if she wasn’t my Professor I would think she was hitting on me. I totally thought she was a lez too, until she mentioned an ex husband and two sons.”
Liz turns around in her chair.
“Hitting on you? “ She smiles. “I mean, James, the thought of you being seduced by a much older woman is incredibly hot.”
“Babe, she has a 27 year old son. That is how old she is for Christ’s’ sake!”
“Hot.”
“No. Not hot.”
“I think your lying.” Liz stands up and sways over to James, She runs her hands up his shirt and kisses his neck. “If I dress up like an older woman, can I seduce you?” James grabs her hands and pulls them away.
“Well to spoil your fantasy she is not hot. She is like 5’0” and probably close to 200 lbs”
“Oh… “
“Yeah, Oh.”
. . . .
“James?”
“Yeah baby?”
“How did you even end up at Carols today?”
He laughs and kisses her cheek, and puts her head on his chest.
“well I was upstairs in my school, which is like a huge house, sitting on this black leather couch with my laptop in my lap and playing halo. Remember how I had to borrow your adapter.?”
“Oh yeah.”
“You know how it’s bigger than mine? Well Carols ex husband works at apple, so she comes over and starts bitching at me for having the wrong power supply or some shit.” James nudges her head off his chest and lights up a cigarette. “I told her mine was broken, and this was yours and blah blah. Anyway…” Liz sits up letting the blanket fall away from her, and grabs his cigarette. “She tells me to make an appointment at apple with her ex husband
“Well then she sees me later on and starts talking up this thunderous storm about how her cats have been acting really weird, and bitching about the internet not working. Then like, totally non-sequiter she asks me if I would like to review my portfolio with her later on because she is a part of the Review board…anyhow. So I say yeah, and after my Lit class I meet her in the Library. She asks if I will give her a ride home since she walked and that’s pretty much it.”
“ So she is a crazy cat lady, and then she ripped your portfolio a new asshole?”
“pretty much.”
“oh. Just wondering.”
. . . .
“I want you to pose two ways. One with your cock and tits, and one with your back turned.”
Her dress is loose, but it is obvious to him that underneath she is laced. He steps out of his pants letting them fall, revealing his already erect dick.
“May I keep my shirt on?”
“No. You may not.”
He un-buttons his shirt and slowly peels off his binder, conscious of the release of his breasts.
“ Don’t you need more light Mrs. Cochran?”
“No. And Shut up. Hopefully with this low of exposure we won’t see the harness, although if we do, it shouldn’t be such a bad thing.” She walks up to him, and sees him in a way she hadn’t before. He is a real boy. Or could be. His jaw is tight and sharp around the edge. His neck is long and extends down to broad shoulders, thin but toned arms, and if she squints, his breasts disappear.
Through the Lens he is a girl posing as a boy. Through the lens he is pale and scared, his shoulders look weak and his cock is fake. The areolas are dark and only enhance the shadows of his tits, but she hits the button anyway. She hits him anyway.
And he is like a child. He cries in slow motion and moves in waves, and in her a piece of him exists. She lets him cry in solitude, and perverts this sadness by the presence of a lens. A double shutter capturing more than what is human. An intangible existence stripped of everything but truth.
She learns his name was Jennifer. He puts his hands in her, and in her he is nearly crushed. A woman. A muse.
Stumble Upon
Today stumbled upon this page where you submit one sentence stories and read something that I had written two years ago. It freaked me out because it was in the best of section and it is one of my best kept secrets. The thought of so many people knowing the one most vulnerable thing about me freaks me out.
I had to bookmark it. I still can't believe that it actually happened. In the entirety of the internet I happen upon my ONE dark secret.
fuck.
At least it was eloquent and well liked.
But really what are the effing chances?
I had to bookmark it. I still can't believe that it actually happened. In the entirety of the internet I happen upon my ONE dark secret.
fuck.
At least it was eloquent and well liked.
But really what are the effing chances?
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Psychic TV in me
I spend half my life waiting for half witted fuck for brains to get their shit together.
I am sure they laugh.
Because it is so goddamn funny... but after too much accumulation of history, we have lost our integrity haven't we?
lame.
I am sure they laugh.
Because it is so goddamn funny... but after too much accumulation of history, we have lost our integrity haven't we?
lame.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Wild tigers I have known
Still a sadness.
Found filth in the whole of room.
Dillusional mirrors that tell me nothing,
and I am cleaning till four am
just to have an excuse to complain tomorrow.
When I found those tiny metal triangles
on our bathroom floor
I wanted to construct towers
out of them.
This isn't linear.
Nor are we.
Found filth in the whole of room.
Dillusional mirrors that tell me nothing,
and I am cleaning till four am
just to have an excuse to complain tomorrow.
When I found those tiny metal triangles
on our bathroom floor
I wanted to construct towers
out of them.
This isn't linear.
Nor are we.
Monday, July 21, 2008
BDD
Sad today, crystal castles, and I am trying to come to terms with what I actually look like.
Isn't it weird that we will NEVER see ourselves the way other people do? Even in picutres. No matter how many poses one strikes in front of the shutter... we always look different.
blah. I think I have body dis-morphic issues.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
the living dead
Just listen.
Yesterday I am working (I work as a receptionist for a massage/spa place) and this guy comes in, he is a new client. He looks a little gray faced, and all around un-well, which I notice. I ask him if he would like water while he fills out some forms, he just shakes his head and asks for the rest room. I show him the way and shortly after he is escorted to his massage.
When he comes down, I try chatting with him, saying he looks relaxed and ask if he enjoyed his massage. He nods his head, attempts to smile and again asks to use the rest room. I cash out his gift card (given to him by 'The Philips Design Group' , he uses the facility and then leaves. Minutes after, I use the rest room. While I am in there I smell this awful fetid smell- I have smelt it before, but I can't place it. It definitely was not the normal odiferous splendors that one would smell in a loo, but something more awful. It was chemical, and earthy, if at all possible. I wanted to say a cross between burnt chocolate, rat piss, and some kind of pungent cleaning solution.
I wash my hands and walk out into the kitchen where three of the massage therapists are eating lunch. Jackie, who was Martin (the man's) therapist is there but not eating. I am so sick with the smell that I say something about it. I am trying to explain the smell and she looks at me wide eyed...
Was Martin just in there? she asks (in her beautiful scottish accent)
-Yes....
My god, do you know that in the fifteen years I have been a massage therapist, I have NEVER smelt such acrid odor? I nearly passed out and vomited from the smell. Never have I had a client with a smell that just radiated and lingered the way his did.
We all stare at her, and I believe it. The whole back hall leading up to the bathroom was drenched in his stink.
It was rotten, and just what you described... You know what I think it was? I think it was formaldehyde.
She goes on to tell us how she had taken this anatomy class in which they had to dissect a cadaver. I knew she had pin pointed the smell exactly from tenth grade biology when we examined preserved cow hearts.
The therapists go into another appointment, and while Jackie is waiting for her client to undress she says
The thing that is really baffeling, is his skin texture. It was as if the man had no
elasticity left in his skin. Truly, bizarre.
At this point we are all a little freaked. We go about our day, all keeping Creepy Martin in the back of our heads and the tips of our noses. The stench was nearly impossible to air out. But the more I thought of him the more the pieces didn't fit. He was middle aged, could have been any of my friends fathers, or even one of my professors. And the skin slag! I have possibly read too many books detailing the decomposition of a human corpse, how after the rigor subsides, one is left with wilting flesh. I then am transported to daymares of this walking cadaver coming into our spa, using a found gift card to cash in for one last humanly indulgence. ::shiver::
I google him - Nothing.
I type in the design firm who had given Martin the gift card - Nothing.
On the form he filled out he lists no ailments, he is on no medication (which can sometimes attribute to a person smelling funny - just think of your grandma's home), and has no places in particular he would like the therapist to focus on. Fucking weird.
I reiterate my findings to Jackie who has come up with some theories of her own.
Maybe he is an undertaker who works with advanced decomposing bodies.
-He got it from a design firm.
Damn. Well maybe he is on medications?
-Nothin'
Shit. Drugs, maybe he is a meth chef?
- A meth chef Jackie? no. I mean did he seem like he was a drug user?
No... no, not at all actually. Then what on Earth?
-Not on Earth. Maybe he is dead.
I had said too much.
Nothing has come about for our mysterious Martin, but I am still convinced he was a part of the living dead.
My faultline
so I have a lot going on in my head. Nothing different from what it usually is except for this uncontrollable sense of doom. Like the walls are going to splinter and dissipate and I wont even have time to grab my keys.
I wonder if when it all ends I will still grab for my passport and birth certificate? About four months ago we got into this bizarre tiff with the upstairs neighbor. Some macho bot boy with a big labido and immense ego from Scotland. Anyway he unpinned the fire extinguisher and sprayed our door with it. we were breathing in the awful chemical fog that had settled into the air. Angry, we planned on striking back- but the fire alarm sounded and we thought maybe there really was a fire. Barely thinking of anything but safety I grabbed my purse, cellphone, meds, rat cage, and this little portfolio that I keep all my really important papers in... I was out the door standing on the sidewalk in 3 minutes.
There was no fire, but I was ready, I set myself at ease and it was fine.
I was laying in bed last night, the image of this cartooned globe cracking in two, a shift of tectonic plates conspiring against my even footing, I feared the end was closer than I thought. I was torn between wanting the earth to open her mouth and just swallow me whole, or the spine of the earth missing my house by mere inches...
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Start
I am not sure what direction this all will take, how far it will go, or if all these viral dreams will come to fruition the way I hope they will. But it is worth a shot. I need a place to vent since I am with out a therapist or anything for now. I am on my own and maybe okay with it. Ask me when I have more in my system.
I need to free write.
My love letters to 1000 girls are spread over this city. The thick phlegm of masturbation, the sound of fucking ones self to the face of a stranger, and I am windblown. Shoes that dirty beds from walking on these piss green streets. Gutters choking with disease, to the blossoming trees bursting with perfumed birds. These love letters I have are burned into this shit city. I smiled my way through sonnets only to see them paved with chipped nails deep into scratched dirt. The names of never lovers. And I cry over small bits of chalk that once held so much word and promise. Now wasted on dillusional configures etched into these goddamn sidewalks. When I am done, I play hop scotch on them. The clinking bodies of charcoal. I sail down avenues knowing they have felt these words, scarred backs and I am going to do this again.
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