The Fucked Generation

we made it through january

2012-01-31T19:31:00.000-06:00

just in time for the most romantic kind of romance

update:

2012-01-30T17:55:00.001-06:00

today just before 3 at 9th &O there was a woman two men and a police officer standing in the middle of the intersection, just standing while traffic laced around and then the woman was screaming and her knees went out and they were grabbing her and dragging her to the curb and her shirt came up revealing a black bra and they carried her and sat her down and she rocked and heaved, and i have felt pretty weird since seeing this

peals

2012-01-29T20:07:00.000-06:00

i mostly enjoy self-locomoting but lately every time i touch the wheel of my car i just want to drive and drive and drive and drive and drive and drive and drive and drive and drive and drive and drive and drive and drive and drive and drive

haven't seen all the stars in a long time
so full of this ache man
i'm bailing my vessel
as fast as it overflows
feeling like johnny cash
singing like a ghost
what darling are we gonna
what darling can we

today's spread

2012-01-28T22:11:00.002-06:00

like butter

1. 3 of cups (me)
2. ace of swords (obstacle)
3. death (goal)
4. the magician (roots)
5. the hanged man (past)
6. 6 of wands (future)
7. 3 of swords (inner disposition)
8. 7 of wands (environmental influences)
9. judgement (hopes/fears)
10. the empress (final outcome)

i mostly don't believe in cards or
anything but also i do
or maybe myopic introspection
keeps the boredom at bay

blood is thumping up in my chest
i've grown a purr muscle

oh you're

2012-01-28T05:08:00.000-06:00

still looking at
me cher got me
so wasted i'm
told i introduced
you six times
there are parts missing
where i came
across the street
and woke in my
bra lips partially purple
now i'll eat this slab of
deer while you sleep
watching quietly
and soon will do
ten push-ups and be
covered in tigers

vex a scout

2012-01-17T14:53:00.003-06:00

muffle the skull perimeter
wind tight lace bandages
swallow your fingers

plow and rake a scape
cut you a hole in the sand
lean forth carefully and wail
and wail and wail and wait

you have reproduced by budding
spin an arrow on your palm to decide
where to send the fresh tiny new you

mantra

2012-01-13T20:13:00.002-06:00

here comes the

2012-01-13T19:21:00.001-06:00

boot

i have marked out in foot-prints
the square mile
i prowl daily
plotting how to best
attack passing cars
first show them my teeth
my teeth
and my stride

i end slumped in
beds of
crumpled perennials

fitful
wondering/worrying
what noise i will make one
day when/if a sudden train horn
shreds my psyche

and i am crushed to my knees
and howl and
perhaps howl

and we're trying to
hide in this forest
we are born seeing
born without wisdom teeth
and are
modern medical miracles

i'm whispering secrets
into holes in trees
covering them with mud
and moss, desultory

fuck these trains are loud
who gave you that right
why didn't i get
what you got
i was given no weapons
i grew them with my chest

want to mohawk
my silky hair want to
grow it long and
devastate

i could get on one train
and/or another
i could pilot myself
to the ocean

sun sets in purg atory

2012-01-09T17:54:00.004-06:00

let's self-vivisect
it's okay to be laughing

you poets
want to feed you pizza
in the alley
where golden cheese stretches
and never snaps

quickly do something
anything natural
so long as the current runs
bypass these piss channels
give me a splice

advice: watch out for january
january: shit girl

◕‿‿◕

2012-01-06T20:37:00.000-06:00

[The Thief of Baghdad, 1924]

i am trying to be more beautiful

2012-01-04T18:58:00.000-06:00

when i remember my friends
i am a giant
looming the room
my giant thumbs all over
giant eyes thumping into corners

my pigments bleed until
i fill this space

don't you dare
get your love
on me or i'll
dissolve and
respawn atomic

i did not ask for
this task of biblical frantic
info curation

these small acutely essential
endeavors

when i see you next
i'll realize that you're taller

jam time

2012-01-03T22:41:00.001-06:00

insert layer
visual interest
color
saturation
finely etched faces
filed with care
under ground i woke
with dirt in my feel pits

behold, reticent timbre
taming and trying
to keep from getting so dang
crushed this month

look you probably
have nothing to fear
or you have pressing air drama
to tend to, you are
needed
in another galaxy
and chosen

i'll be walking
and the pigeons at dusk
billow in wild circuits
against pretty little lincoln's
red purple sky

all is and will be for ever
a knot or a
tutorial endlessly
redrafting

sometimes i go weeks without seeking out music to listen to because it makes me feel too much.
right now i am feeling strong though i think.

let's have a january jam

2012222222

2011-12-28T20:03:00.001-06:00

can't stop dreaming
about
hard candies,
their shapes
under pocket linen

i dream i'm in
a competition,
need to perform
a dolly parton song

paint on red lips
to attract
humming-birds and
soft beard fur

mirror

2011-12-22T22:03:00.001-06:00

[via]

and it winters

2011-12-22T11:27:00.000-06:00

today i think my soul is boiling

everyone huddles over fire and electrics

i am incandescent

the only relief is evaporation

bare screaming skin to the ice wind

ascend as diaphanous steam

worry small pebbles in your palm

2011-12-21T13:04:00.000-06:00

work, work in numb bursts
blast above the grip
of muggy mind-atmosphere,
flutter repeatedly to social media
release calculated distress calls
disguised as wit and triumph,
fantasize of letting your head rest but you know
once it gets there that it'll just be stuffed
all in your foggy arm-folds and smelling the desk smell,
and you will not have disappeared.

spend concentrated hours
jamming grenade pins into various fruits
beat your fists sharply against your
largest muscle groups for the sweet
narcotic pain-spread

consider your blood a lot
consider tattoos of tigers
consider cheap tickets
consider fine cigarettes

chase the sleepy bliss hours
where you can harbor but not
disembark

good-bye dear leader

2011-12-19T18:17:00.011-06:00

we have all been granted
the divine blessing
of tickets to heartbreak hotel.

eight hundred thousand swallows
rain seed pearl spheres
on deserving schoolgirls
and technology workers
dancing in linen and
immaculate cooperation.

my breast is an empty bowl
i beat to the rhythm of their ribbons.
we are howling a grief
we are stronger than ever for the
tide of dark forces at our gates.
but please, don't ask any
uncomfortable questions.

capitalist, dog,
if you don't fit you must
hammer yourself into the script.

[via]

powerful healing spell

2011-12-18T08:21:00.004-06:00

i walk with all these limps

my boyfriend is a centaur with charlize theron's torso,
a creamy dappled stallion body

i braid flowers in his mane and ride him
in my hero parade

tire tier

2011-12-17T10:32:00.003-06:00

today i am
a small robot sick with rabies
feebly sweeping litter and
blubbering rustily under
mineral encrustations.
take it from me.
these bicycle chains
whip around the gears,
bystanders laughing
and throwing heads of
lettus to shred on my
exposed metal parts.
we are making a slaw.
i am the essence of the party.
we're talking shop sounds,
shank my talk box,
shut me, ow.
set my tracks
to the precipice
for a laugh,
exhaust
sucking
one more mug
to make a shine

brain purifying mechanism

2011-12-14T20:01:00.002-06:00

sorry about the font.

thinspo

2011-12-14T19:27:00.009-06:00

i wish i knew who did this to credit them (i do not).

some dec. words

2011-12-14T18:06:00.010-06:00

i never knew how easy it would be
to become an affectation,
tit for tat

do you notice how carefully
i am half an expert and half a fool

i worry my truest self might be in
the moments when my rage escapes.
i realize now that the toe was broken
and that you should not brutally kick
moving vehicles,
even if they are driven by total bitches.

i walked on it for blocks
with a poker face, ashamed
like i always am of anger,
though not of being angry
which is just comedy
like everything

i get too angry at strangers
when they are inconsiderate,
or cruel, i think that is the thing
i get most angry about.

___

i did not eat lamb as a child,
but i do now.
it feels more honest to eat pigs,
they are more like us, with sturdy
recognizable bones. how familiar,
and appropriate

when i was a child i ate beef
and spaghetti. the dogs ate
hollow bird bones. one day
i wore a lime-green gold glitter tiger sweatshirt
and ran accidentally into the electric fence,
it made a black line on the tiger
and a red line on me
__

i can't seem to write without swerving embarrassingly down tributaries of mental anguish. i want my writing to be more like a joke but it spills out of me all flowery and sensory and earnest, and it only wants to re-hash every heart-break and deep slips into abysses from which i emerged scarred and sharp-eyed.

i never could separate the poeming from my selfness, and this is where i have struggled most in the academic/professional/social poetry world. i am not claiming to be unique, this sounds pretty normal now that i type it. i do the writing like this because it's how i come out, it's the frequency i vibrate to. i'm not so great. i want to try and i want to want to try.

i need to keep increasing my vocabulary. these wet december days make my existence dementedly crepuscular. i actually think i am pretty strong/nice/good to be around. i have always liked feeling strong. i have always had very strong legs for kicking soccer balls but i am just now learning how to punch. i am doing push-ups. i want to be stronger. i want to be faster. i want to be smaller. a modern machine.

i want to be embettered. most of my inner monologue is literally self-abuse and i am trying to say nicer things to myself. i should probably stop trying to explain myself. i think maybe i have a fetish where i like to assume other people are interested in me explaining myself. i want to get on planes that take me across the world and back. i want to be friends. i want to know how to make friends when i can't seem to act unless invited. i want to write poems that make you love me, and make you feel loved. i want to maintain enough flaws to never feel paved-over. i want to think/feel like an animal.

miss attribution learns how to let go

2011-12-08T18:57:00.004-06:00

what did you learn about cells
how did your burns heal
why does it all doppler

close your eyes and
take a tour of every place you've lived

don't be afraid
of me or anything

at land, soldier

2011-12-06T22:43:00.030-06:00

it's always a shore
where you find yourself
borne here maybe

bury half my head in
lukewarm gray sand while
snuffling blind sea mammals
nudge my sides, whisker the flesh
of my hips, rush salty wet air
in my exposed blue blinking eye

i could thrash til i burrow under,
soak, logged, and with this pressure
be ushered away as bits,
as grains in wee mandibles

i could just begin with i love,
i could just let these gulls take my eyes
and i could climb, could say
remember the first time you broke
along the fault lines, called it art,
could feel a fear of cold

call an eagle down to carry me,
bring me dinner, feed me meat,
you could ring my bell, bell,
my belly knows its grip;
i'm tired of throwing it up,
my guts all fluttering sore tatters

a bluff, i fold,
this is just a demonstrative iteration,
a dualness and hunger that chugs along
like dawns, warms my ice teeth,
quells my eruption some

here on this mountain
i have always been
your smiling oracle,
beseeching, seek me

can't fight this sensation any-more

2011-11-25T10:49:00.011-06:00

descending into my dark winter,
uncertain whether this cave's ghosts are too powerful.
there is a screaming high and tight on the wind again
& i get demon dreams, i get hard cognitive dissonance hall-o-mirrors;
i get blusters that won't subside til they blast and gnaw.
i'm gonna try to be nice, i know you're trying to be nice,
this isn't because i don't love
everything, or know what
is, i mean should be real

whoever said

2011-11-14T22:43:00.001-06:00

ed. -- turns out this was my 666th blog post, good job me!

placing

2011-11-14T00:26:00.002-06:00

it took me a while to learn
i never could settle in
a city that goes on so far
i can't know its edges

admit that you're still
waiting on that second childhood
while forever shaking hands with

this new you, forgetting
names, i'm so bad, with names,
so bad with these new mes

see i thought my magic was
stronger, see each way leads
to the same sick silly eruption

it is hard enough to know one place fully,
putting my mouth to each alley way,
pulling hungry lungs of the
soft brown honeyed smoke

Animation

2011-11-09T20:45:00.006-06:00

I found an amazing website of animation sketches that I am going to share here out of guilt for not producing any writing lately.*

I wish I had the patience for my talents. I mean this in the least self-fellating way possible; everyone has talents.** I always felt like a fraud because I have all of this intelligent fire in me and this general skillset of things I'm decent at*** and you're supposed to have a "passion," something that you know, you can't not do.

Sometimes everything I do feels like a parlour trick, like I am very well-trained, enough to be very pleasing in certain ways but lacking something essential behind it all that would propel me to true success. I do not wish to simply ease through life with minimal discomfort (or I do) but no passion grips me, or many do, fleetingly, small sucker fish, silky tentacles.

The animation slides are fun, I do love me some animation. Seeing the intricate skill and work behind films I absorbed as a child is especially engaging. The character design process is, I think, informative on a different level; It's intriguing to see the movement of the character affecting the entire persona, and it makes me consider both my own body language and a larger literacy of "intent" being informed by each subtle movement. Aladdin wouldn't react to something frightening by leaning back and yelping with wide eyes, he would crouch quickly forward and assess the situation, because he is always in control. Ariel's movements are fluid, but her timing reflects her perky impatience and impulsiveness in every head-turn and fin-swish.

Keep a clear line of action. Consider your character.

*Most of my job is composing meticulous email communications and long legal brief letters about software engineers and by the end of the day I'm usually just honestly sick to death of word processing.

**I grew up constantly being told how smart I was and how I could do anything, but suffered the usual mental crisis of puberty and after that decided to firmly browbeat myself into believing I was extremely average in every way. It was how I came to see myself by high school: My hair was brown, my weight was not thin but not obese, I was from the very middle of the U.S.A., I drank a lot of mountain dew, average. I think this may be some kind of partial factor which mired me in an insecurity-fugue that is still ongoing. In retrospect I feel as though I was trying to wring myself of the waves of mental highs and lows that had begun to toss me, and to snuff the anxiety over the potential of catastrophic life-failure and general life-confusion. I mostly feel though that it was an attempt to control my personal image of my physical self, which was overtaken by the comments/leers/awkward makeouts of boys/men when I grew fantastic tits in 6th grade. Averageness was safety, and an excuse to recede into self-comfort instead of striving. Or whatever.
The point is I regret not being ballsier about my ambition. I don't know if it's how I was trained to be or if it's in my nature or if I fucked it up by the above paragraph or what.

***I take great comfort in being decent at things.

i started running

2011-10-04T21:56:00.002-05:00

to be an animal again

i am not afraid of anything today

i started running

2011-10-04T16:39:00.003-05:00

i want to be stronger for the american cataclysm

biology

2011-09-23T16:50:00.000-05:00

is it just me

2011-09-22T19:41:00.003-05:00

or has everything been a little much lately

september is the best month. this time though i stopped drinking. for september. i thought i would discover something horrible about myself like i was actually an alcoholic but it turns out i just like drinking a lot. not drinking has not been hard except for the initial prosaic and ox-like determination to prove to myself... something. mostly i am more bored, and slightly more settled into my bones than i remember.

also i have found more fear in myself, of general darknesses that loom. i feel overly crude and clumsy, unable to see anything but someone dull, obese and middle-aged in the mirror, and howl at the awareness of my incessant dysmorphia while not being able to quiet it.

this got dramatic. i am really quite happy. i fear the slope to dark times is downward while grasping my hilt to battle. i have been baking more. i feel like my writing is always too prim, even when i say fuck and shit. i don't know how this got to be my inner voice. i am gearing up to be social again i sware. my birthday is next week. it is usually a day on which i end up feeling stingingly sad for no reason i can discern. twenty-five. my fortune cookie told me to go for my dreams but i am so afraid of student loans guys. news/thoughts of the future in general makes me want to go live in the hills even though laughably i am as much alive on the internet as i am off of it. avatars, etc. you start to feel the big furious boil of generations tumbling over each other. you get a little of the old fear.

boredom gnaws and prods. it feels ultimately indulgent to sate it. i have been reading about alcoholism and cultural alcohol consumption and discovered the most important thing booze does is promote myopia, i.e. it is so nice to shut my brain off to the noise and watch this tv or listen to this friend. the noise is so much. i was born near-sighted as hell, not as bad as some but worse than most. my natural state and ostensibly my formative infant state is/was characterized by myopic vision (a lot of meditative time has been spent studying the thread patterns on sheets). it is obviously not ideal but this macro-lens vision when i'm not wearing correction is deeply comforting.

i am really excited to have a drink when september ends. maybe i will crack that cider in my fridge on my birthday. for now i am boring. winter is coming, the time when i can think best in pictures and fetal twee poetries. that's okay.

fat athiest bridesmaid

2011-09-08T15:46:00.004-05:00

I've covered bones already

a stain or a chemical
change, it sloughs or
leeches
I am not exerting any force
this voice dips and holds

unfold an old decalogue
mould the wire frame

run to safety
everything dilates
a round compass, a plus sign

injury from others
thrust yourself toward
a series of thrusts
a regular delirium tremons of a day

get aligned
spend years aligning
suffer from the animus,
mistake it for love,
mistake love for a self-fetish,
suffer from mistakes
pull it all down, break it

the trouble could be breasts,
cut off one tapioca pudding cup/bowl
to draw your bow string back, cut them both
so you can run without
a heavy flesh echo

snow dream

2011-08-31T11:11:00.004-05:00

I was on a ski slope mountain and there were black birds flying up in the gray sky. One got closer and when it landed on a nearby pine I could see it was gargantuan, the size of a manatee, with a long magpie tail. I called to it and raised my arms coaxingly, it seemed to grow further, a megafauna, big and pleistocene. Its black shining eye regarded me as it leaned over, bending the pine tree down, and it dipped its slightly spoon-shaped beak into the snow in front of me. The beak was as long as I was tall, but I did not feel scared of the dragon-bird. It flew away in a numb spray of frost, its wingbeats like paralyzing vacuums. Later when my friend came by on skis I tried to show him the marks the beak made in the snow but they were smudged and lost.

[via]

lissen forra minnit

2011-08-30T19:23:00.000-05:00

[via]

铜

2011-08-29T21:43:00.003-05:00

virginity poem

2011-08-28T01:39:00.007-05:00

body muttering a new language
a novel power in knee-high leather boots
freshman spanish estoy estas
estamos estamos estamos

terribly symmetrical aquiline half-egyptian
fucker in his giant matte black truck
that rumbled you from throat to hocks
when he said
cute.

fishnets fourteen and flailing
ghost pilot at the wheel of the
hormone fugue,
the year everyone thought you
and were the german girl,
welcome, your english is so good,
do you like it here,
september 2001 a gray bright
shining crumbling deviant
demi-god throws a chair into
a bank of computers and
meet me in the empty hall let's
go let's go let's go let's go

to his old wood musty-porch house
on the couch kiss me it is raining outside
softly on the windows so
sitting at the piano play moonlight sonata
up on the wall is a framed white
square scrawled in blood
"i <3 u guys"
from his little brother in my class
who four months before had
stuck a rifle in his mouth
left that last message on the wall &
sent us reeling

O I don't believe there is a god
any more
was i born with what you like
do you like my

the sunken center v where my ribs go to my heart
i know you know i knew you
wouldn't love me longer joking
how many girls' virginity you took before
but it's just a bitter joke
like it all is
you'll call me sweet
i'll miss it always

la

2011-08-21T14:49:00.009-05:00

this feels different

i dreamed a lot but the final part i scrambled atop a roof, gritty shingles, to see the sunset and the world was just me and the roof and the sunset, broiling black clouds and an indomitable ravishing pink-red sun conducting them in clots and waves as it sunk with the assured steadiness only a sun can have.

last night in a non-dream i was on my roof, letting neighbors beat-box spittily in my harmonica and stealing nips of jack; it was 3 a.m. and so misty the wet white water-park roof-land glowed.

(I was just trying to explain the white slightly cetaceous material the roof is made of and "floor of the roof" got me troubled.)

also i stepped on a bottle cap
hopin' to be tetanus-free!

a mother is good poem

2011-08-18T21:36:00.007-05:00

i'm in a warm flannel night-gown, white with sparse pink flowers
fabric pilled, long long hair all static
warmth that is welcome and so unlike
the complicated and cloying touches of your adult you,
without the furtive vibrations;
with knubbly rubber remote control buttons,
she worries a furrow into her front tooth
with sunflower seeds cracked and tongued
like they were eaten by one of the several $8 parakeets
who screamed, neurotic and alone, where the cats couldn't reach them;
teaching me there is enough oxygen in my breath
to make a candle fire glow,
she reads books about christian pioneer wives,
her hand echoing in the plastic popcorn bowl

dream for a cool late-summer morning

2011-08-13T10:46:00.004-05:00

i was sitting in a theatre with friends. a girl with long blonde hair came up and started saying things to us, one at a time, getting too close and whispering intensely. when she got to me she was almost in my lap, talking, talking, so i pulled her in and kissed her. it was good, so i did it again, with more intent & tongue. the way dream kisses are all natural and seen from inside and outside of you.

later we were walking. she looked over at me. i said "your eyes are copper." her irises had turned to shining copper bowls with tiny infinite black pupils, rimmed in oxidized blue, glinting like fish scales.

i tried to write today

2011-08-12T00:16:00.012-05:00

this happened. i'm gonna put it here i guess. gonna try to do it more. intention announced.

freewrite (blocked)
it's a good thing you didn't
write what you thought back
when it happened those who
you loved with their sweet
silky silk blah fuck cursing
words a cur a butter curse or
a boy who was christian bale
in a newsboy cap or the name
of a medication you were
prescribed, how it sits in you,
what is going on in my
innards; overwhelmed by
hate for strangers instead
of feeling love/embraceful
of them, want to hide
away it is time to be
quiet don't look at me
my hair is ugly right
now but this basil
smells so good. I kind
of hate my dad

How about the sky, that is
trite as fuck and do you want to play I
can't do these gymnastics
gynastic growing
back the hymen so
poetry can fuck it out
again Spend all
your time obsessing on
misfired brain cues,
why can't I see myself
why can't I see myself
shut the FUCK UP
I could never get past
these big NE thighs
The name of a place
you have been.

I'll show you
an image
This is not a
Manifesto. I want it
to be but this brain done
got dumb; I am so
ashamed to bore you or to be misunde
rstood I think --
Would you like to I don't know ask me some
thing I want to draw a cat

(cat drawing)

The cat is drew.
There is someone with
a newspaper behind me
look what I achieve
achievement I
will give you what
you need swirls can
you smell it on my
feeling nihilistic,
anachronistic dichoto
mistic mystic misty
blisty this is lazy
where did my sauce
go brown sweet
tamarind spiced
like we like it, pepper

I fukkin hate your
noisy truck. I fukkin
hate all of it.
Trucks saying
Restoration
Erosion Control
go up in the shade
I want to kill you
your wrasslin and
in-jokes don't TOUCH
that chair. Looking, looking,
looking, looking,

These cues repeat. I
said don't TOUCH that
fuckin
custom shit bro. Don't
pay your money for
something

A concept. Stop me an
during

Don't be silly that is
a learned condition
a tic of solicitation
a stupid party trick

Draw a repeating
pattern coil
into fractal
piss land.

Frittering, frittering.
I want whatever you have that is better
this SUCKS
GFY

Hobbling, I have
a mind and a half but
gut to keep it down
There is a lot of
anger in here. Is it
b/c I hate my dad, and
your mom and anyone
who ever made you
feel bad.

I just want to make
the team. I am so
well rounded.
I am a successful
architect at an
architecture firm
please be less
FUCK YOU ALL
logarithmics hip
hop poppa ya don't
stop
I want to be free and alone today, I
suck @ writing poems
love you
love me
I guess gonna read my book now
Say some smart shit
occupy some tension
between home and the
rest of the world,
sit in the concepts
draw from them
absorbently, seek
new sponge-ing

paper making

2011-08-03T17:55:00.008-05:00

A fistful of wasps is brooding under the gutter above my roof-exit window. There is a larger nest in the bulky, aged a/c unit that's resting on the fire escape, kind of blocking the fire escape window. In the hot-box. Bodies silkily throbbing, I imagine them absorbing the heat and compressing it into magic yellow poison. Both factions are the same species and I wonder if they are actually one group with two homes. Either way I feel protected.

Sir David taught me that wasps are ants that learned to fly (order Hymenoptera, Greek: membrane/wing). The Apocrita petiole; a tiny waist.
Ants have discovered my kitchen counter is usually delicious. Damn them. With all-natural surface cleaner spray. Say sorry, sorry. They replace themselves, their ranks' trickle doesn't end.

this is not a, you know. n'est pas. faux poem.
i don't know if i can be like you guys.
right now i can only write the things that are happening, any other seeking of words is like
hazily bumping on the glass

dog-dayed

2011-07-26T18:04:00.004-05:00

it is hot like religion

& difficult to manifest fully

listen for my thunder

be awake

2011-06-02T19:40:00.004-05:00

a body feels diss-lexic
all clotted & word gummd

days of wet sun and smells all a slinky down the calender's stairs

my body went to another land

in the background of someone's photograph
i nestle in data and pixels in a portobello market
stunned, among fur

where else can i go
recalibration husks me
lets it get in a little

new camera time

2011-04-29T18:01:00.006-05:00

canon powershot sx200 i.s., refurb on the cheap
life is so much better
esp with 12x optical zooooooooooom
expect endless cat photos foreverrrrrr

hybrid

2011-04-28T10:19:00.000-05:00

via

pretty soldier

2011-04-23T13:03:00.005-05:00

a period piece

2011-04-21T13:25:00.010-05:00

In the least aggressive way, I am troubled with everything feeling passé
- -

Where is your new-ness, find it perhaps on a lingering

quest in hills furred wet & growlsy,

the absorption when you tumble jammy jams you

with mineral bits of soul, fides and fates,

we are all idols & know-know

the damages of dull blades

cool.

2011-03-30T22:22:00.004-05:00

all day today there was a beautiful antique wooden mantle-mirror thing someone had left for free on the corner. It was a little banged up and heavy as fuck. I told myself if it was still there when i got home, i'd take it in. it was, but I didn't until it was raining and i remembered it was out there getting all wet.

i accidentally popped the mirror out when lugging it up 3 flights of stairs. behind the mirror is a pristine copy of The Chicago Daily Tribune from 1901. I fuckin ripped it pulling it out though, so mad at self.

update: here's a crappy webcam pic of the beast, sans mirror. i love vintage newspapers, god. QUININE.

springtime friends

2011-03-24T17:58:00.005-05:00

pretty lady squirrel who visits every day for seeds (and only eats the sunflower seeds, as you can see). I gave her a dab of chunky peanut butter today and she's currently having her mind blown. as long as the window's down she is not afraid.

i miss having a camera. webcam squirlpics suckkkk. Just for fun let's have a photo of window cat from last fall. I don't have any recent photos but man he gets fluffy like a snow lion in the winter.

some hai kus

2011-03-21T17:48:00.006-05:00

i.
decide whether to
mine or harvest, stretch a chord
and reach conclusions

ii.
boots look more like feet
in them than shoes, so you got
married, don't whisper

iii.
stretch you some and reach
conclusions, decide whether
to mine or harvest

iv.
stop it you monster
crimp me every direction
i will be neutral

film-stills: fish tank

2011-03-07T22:11:00.012-06:00

yet another in my recent string of films featuring tragic young foreign girls. this one: so good.

Written and directed by Andrea Arnold -- it was funny how this one kept reminding me of Red Road before I knew they were by the same person.
notes while watching:
looking out of windows
hating the group because you are an outsider
"if you came back as an animal"
they all chose wild and strong, monkey, white tiger, eagle
the animals around them are chained to man's will, horses, dogs, hamsters, fish
he caught the fish with his bare hands

girls feeling trapped, young girls with more magic and power than anyone around them who are still somehow powerless

you got my jam

2011-03-07T19:21:00.004-06:00

((bonus japanese punk time courtesy of Hi-Standard))

I want to sing again, I can harmonize so good.
I/you have been so afraid of having to be the me/you that you/I think I/you am/are, but I/you don't (have to).
So what if I/you ____, so what.

a nightmare

2011-03-07T14:48:00.004-06:00

My new job was a receptionist at a white trash hair salon run out of an old mansion. A little boy showed up for his appointment with Tanya, who was in the basement smoking and laughing with other stylists. I shouted "Tanya your one-o-clock is here!" several times but she and everyone ignored me.

Then, I was at home and there was a blizzard raging outside. On my living room floor was a rubber toy pig, bright yellow with red details, the size of a football, perched with stiff cheer on rounded hooves. It made me uneasy so I chucked it out the window into the snow, watching its trajectory into the alley. When I turned, the toy pig was peeking at me from around a corner. Startled, I threw it out again, harder. Relief was fleeting; the pig reappeared next to me on the couch, and the unease grew into quaking terror. Then began an inescapable nightmare in which the pig continued to show up just when I was sure I'd outsmarted it. I got rid of it a dozen times, convinced myself I was awake and it was just a dream-pig, and then there he was, the most awful, frightening thing I'd ever seen, like the doomy breath of thanatos. The yellow pig began zooming ghoulishly across the carpet at me. I jammed it into the oven and turned it on, watching (the oven spun like a tumble-dryer) its features burn off. The pig came back. Finally, I tore into it with my bare hands, ripping the latexy yellow skin to shreds. I woke up around this time.

the sea and a safe land

2011-03-06T10:29:00.005-06:00

this morning i dreamed of traveling under the ocean in a tv-show like cast of characters. we had a vast submarine ship each with our own themed chamber, and went on dives for treasure that were haunted by bus-sized shadows of sharks. if you pressed a button in my chamber a sleek bloodwood box opened and small golden tree emerged draped in my finds: strings of pearls and baubles. "these will lead me to my mother," i explained to my companions.
We found ourselves in a bay surrounded by two arms of rock that met like hands cupping the tiniest opening where water entered and left; the suction created at this opening by the waves and tides meant it was always a tornadic deep-blue whirlpool groaning and roaring. a scientist stood next to it and said to me "The morning glory" and we accidentally fell in a few times and did not die, but it was terrifying to ride that immense power.
Inland I became conscious on a farm, hiding peacefully behind barns and buildings of corrugated metal, playing with nothing like a child. I came out and a man was staring off into the field and said "More haymakers," gesturing to the laborers.
I then was back in an industrial nautical setting, all steel walkways and handrails. many people I knew were there; it was the size of a city but became apparent it was actually a ship. I found the edge of the ship which was not 30 yards from the next ship over; our planes moved against each other like a 2-d scrolling picture show and set up along the edges were all kinds of watchers and entertainers; musicians bleating instruments and sensual androgynous dancers pleasing everyone's eyes, but everyone was only looking across at the other ship's wares instead of enjoying their own.

tqid/lltq

2011-03-04T17:49:00.003-06:00

Last night I dreamed I got bison faces tattooed on each of my shins, surrounded by feathery green leaves. I kind of regretted them, but only because of their permanence; my inability to replace them with something new eventually.

the black hair is still foreign but deeply soothing, it feels safe like protection, relief, a cipher, a hole, a cloak. but it is raveny and silken too.

birdsong radio and grass

2011-02-26T10:18:00.006-06:00

i dreamed traveling on a globe that shifted under my feet to deposit my hovering body in the new location; of half a dozen small dogs emerging from the surf of the indoor ocean, pugs and cavaliers each with a small gray egg purse to bury in the protection of the palms. when the tide hits the leathery pouches they explode in a froth of dog-eggs.

dogs feature in almost all my dreams now, most commonly a little black pit bull who smiles at me, her face swimming with iridescence. in real life it is snow-land again, pretty tragic only because it gives me the feeling of being on repeat, like i just tumbled from the sun-kissed lip down into the pit again, a little bit sisyphus. i am not afraid so much of the task as i am of its effect upon my character; the largest thing being that this winter makes me so raw, and in forcing myself to be calm for all the work rush and anxiety it oozes out sideways (the anxiety) and coats every other thing i do. this makes me in the world feel like everyone is talking about me, whispering behind hands, eyes low and looking, speaking "awful awful awful." in seeking reassurance i damn myself.

faux springs

2011-02-20T11:30:00.006-06:00

"& all my friends were vampires
didn't know they were vampires
turns out i was a vampire myself
in the devil town"
-- devil town, daniel johnston (in 1st season of friday night lights)

I dreamed another blizzard was coming and there was not enough time. my neighbor's horses were thin and freezing and i had to save them but didn't know how, they nosed foggily at my windows in their fluffy winter coats. i had a list of things to get done, like they were my job, except each task was to drive to a different restaurant and order a different thing. it was like a bulimia mission, i had to gather all this food to force into myself and it made me feel guilty and excited. but the blizzard was starting. shit was getting deadly. when i drove in my car i made it to the beatrice strip-mall where my childhood rental store, silver screen video, the only one in town, was still standing. inside i knew were all the best movies, rare and beautiful ones that would fulfill me.

to my man

2011-02-17T11:55:00.003-06:00

h. !. l. c.p. t. j. i. I.

it's been a year, you are so loved

p.s. take my hyperbolic imagery with the practical grn of slt

film-stills: la teta asustada (the milk of sorrow)

2011-02-16T22:25:00.016-06:00

literally: the scared tit. i still don't know quite how to absorb this film. it was more bizarre in subject matter than the crafting of it would imply; it had a lot to say; about war, rape, the value of women, virginity, love (familial & romantic), botany, humans using one another, etc.. the peruvian landscape and main actress were stunning - similarly chiseled and full of sadness. i will say: there is definitely a potato up a vagina, a lot.
the camera notably fuels the momentum of the film, keeping the viewer at the same distance one expects the protagonist would for the beginning. ... yet it was quiet; i.e. you see the piano on the ground after it falls, never falling, etc. there is real beauty throughout, drama and contrast between lushness/starkness, but the strengths are in the film's music (a lot of sing-song diegetic poetry dialogue) and the motion of the camera, which subtly propels the main character to the climax of her evolution with several long, captivating motion shots.
written and directed by a lady y'all. i seem to be accidentally picking a lot of woman-directed films and it feels good.

found

2011-02-16T17:39:00.008-06:00

"Even now your features, joys, speech, house, trade, manners, troubles,
follies, costume, crimes,
dissipate away from you.
Your true soul and body appears [sic] before me.
To You, ♥ W.W.2"

Under a tree root walking home today. Tell me more, walt freakin' whitman.

this season's spiritual guide

2011-02-15T18:42:00.002-06:00

"if you can't love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else."

r.i.p. Brian Jacques

2011-02-10T16:14:00.003-06:00

The first favorite author I ever met! He was a major celebrity to me and somewhere there's a photo of me standing next to him blushing so hard I'm red. The Redwall series had a huge impact on the person I became for tangential reasons. Goodbye, kind Mr. Jacques.

year of the rabbit

2011-02-10T08:55:00.008-06:00

Every night past midnight I wake up for 2-4 hours. It is a purgatory of my mind and a dully pounding heart that seems to happen regularly in the deep winter. Mostly I spend the time trying to forgive my best friend. This continues to fail. I focus hard on how it felt to sit on the couch with her, and what I loved about her, and our past times with my other beautiful friends. I envision reuniting, and everything goes well and I am so classy until I lean over and, with a sparkling grin, spit in her drink. This is because I still feel emotionally broken. I hope it changes soon.

These thoughts fractal into the increasingly rehashed narrative and prospective future [of being ousted from my favorite people again by the friend-groping emotional cripple who will make things uncomfortable for a year or until he gtfo (though he's actually great fun/likable otherwise [see what I mean about spiraling thoughts])], whose wound-raking is so tired and ineffectual that I then have to focus my efforts on forcing them out. i don't want to feel this way; i don't know yet though that i won't just keep hurting others.

I am finding that whenever I am assertive I scare people. I wish my friends would be critical of me; take the piss out of me; advise me; engage me. I feel I have become a tiger among rabbits. I feel trapped in a room of taffy walls, like Yossarian punching Aarfy in the nose of the bomber.

I try not to think about work. Instead I walk into my earliest memories, seeking that which separates me from the others as though if the plot points align it will explain everything, My Life The Interpreted Text.

On the farm outside of Beatrice, NE my first six years were in the trees and grass. My dad and his friend shirtless and splitting logs. Goldfish that grew to the size of handguns on the algae of the cattle trough. The reverent smell of blood as my dad cut up a deer on our kitchen table, and the purple-gold swirls of it that he wiped and wiped in flowering patterns as the dead deer bled out. The kind of smell you taste, metallic and rank, at the glands of your tongue. Knifing the heads off dead mallards and pheasants and squeezing the corn kernels, still whole, from their gizzards and out their headless neck-holes. Holly the black lab, fast as smoke across the pasture, bringing back delicate fan-shells of rabbit ribcages. Locust trees with thorns bigger than my fingers. Bonfires bigger than my dad's truck. Yellow toad juice. Curling with my face in the sparsely-furred belly of Molly the black lab, feeling the muscles and tendons of her back legs and the rough leather of her paws, pretending I was her baby. Bloated beige ticks on the dogs, and the prickle of nausea upon locating one, the ticks bursting audibly against my dad's loafer.

When I finally sleep and dream again, I am in the zombie apocalypse. I live in my office on a narrow tower of furniture with my little black pit bull/shepherd mix. We are asleep on the tower, having just fought off an encroaching zombie herd. She leans over and kisses me with her dog-face like a person would. Then something is wrong, when I touch her my hand comes back crawling with fleas. I shriek and we descend the furniture-stack where the fleas are now ants, crawling up my arm and on everything. The dream dims out and back in and I'm on my knees sobbing, really crying hard, but I wake up suddenly with no tears to be found and the hot sweet tangle of the crying-relief dissipates like a fog.

film-stills: the princess of nebraska

2011-02-09T19:52:00.012-06:00

the title of this obvs. drew me in before i knew anything, but i found this a strikingly implacable film. It has a strange air of being amateurish and ham-handed while presenting artfully rendered shots and captivating tenderness with its subjects. The director, wayne wang, is chinese-american is more known for films such as "maid in manhattan" and "last holiday", but this movie's claustrophobic camera and confrontation of the culturally-displaced east/west native/alien character gives it voice, and heft. It was adapted from a short story; knowing this perhaps endears me more solidly to the drifting, obtuse pace of the narrative. I am also fond of the withheld-orgasm quality of ambiguity in film. Whatever the case, it strikes tones which strike feelings, from stepping out of the airport when you arrive in another country to walking into an abortion clinic (see? exciting. also: bizarre antony & the johnsons ending.).
it was the kind of film that made me put the gwennie foster goggles on; it's not perfect but it says something really interesting about women, etc.

winter seedling

2011-02-03T20:00:00.008-06:00

in every picture of me my face has two facets, one soft and sweetly sparkle-eyed and the other
dark with an eye rimmed in aubergine staring straight ahead,
split on a seam like an ancient totem,
i don't know how i seem to constantly exist in dichotomic states;
dreaming and knowing everything

i am often desperate to document myself but cannot ever seem to muster the strength to hold up opposing opinions at once. i want to sing an opus of my division and torsion, how i was born a human and an animal but belong in neither world, i don't want children of my own but my earth says Raison d'être, you know,
each month the moon rips the carpet out from under and re-invents me, boys can you even imagine,
and my nose that angles out handsomely can't smell worth a shit next to another creature's, though scent is so rooted in everything we both experience,
why is my life sometimes consumed by desire to eat ravenously then puke it all out tearful euphoria (dear everyone: don't worry, not practicing); why does my heart sometimes take over a-beating and keep me inside,
it's rough to be a wound-up little bio-robot in a dying world, with first-world problems numbing and hog-tying, with this life of hard training to make you like me no matter what,
i don't mean to be so angsty and fatalistic but i have tiny secret self-truths and one is that I soothe myself by saying I will be dead just before the end of things, alive just long enough to see the dusty whipping coat-tails of industry and elephants before it all tanks, it's been tanking solid so long. every generation feels this way, but don't you have this inkling that we are truly the fucked.
i see weird microcultures of hope. i see our overpopulation regulating itself with sweet gays and folk like me, sensitive but with a maternal desire over-satisfied by small companion mammals and art while pregnancy/human babies have sounded since i can remember to be most gross. i see the planet in a constant state of healing, ms. mama forever.

this might all be stoner bullshit but this is me trying to give voice to what my life has to say, it is a work that needs a form i haven't found yet but my need to start gathering the pieces is grrreat.

film-stills: an education

2011-01-31T18:41:00.012-06:00

what a lovely movie; this and the last one i picked at (the vicious kind) are perfect if you have ever been a girl in love with the trixter prince; the irresistibly disconsolate
the film is notably woman-written, nick hornby-teased into a screenplay and woman-directed.
that carey mulligan... she is a dream

film-stills: the vicious kind

2011-01-27T19:53:00.006-06:00

"Sometimes people do things that they know are wrong, but they just do them anyway."

grasps

2011-01-25T19:38:00.002-06:00

i love movies because i can process them
in stills, maddeningly inaccurate in regards to the whole
but nonetheless an important, readable slice into the texture of the film
it is like how i process life, able only to pin down small slippery bits with my words while the whole of it rushes roaring by;
i wake up a fawn who grows into a doe
my brain the size of a clementine orange &
my doe-chest pulsing with breath

film stills: mother (마더)

2011-01-19T22:29:00.013-06:00

i've only seen half; i got sleepy. the film is very sweet & slightly less silly than these shots imply. it was frustrating not to be able to capture the kinetic energy & charm of the mother character. in the opening scene (first 2 stills) she dances alone in a field with passion and sadness.

the most reliable trees

2011-01-16T20:09:00.005-06:00

on accident i re-open
a finger wound,
weeping blood out
that dries in exquisite flakes;

in drifts of cherry-blossom blood petals
& sinusfuls of ache
with bare branches
with my hands in my head in my hands,
split in 2 covering more at a cost

my friend leans in &
whispers "they are not trees,
they are the lungs of the earth
sprouting out-ward"

omar khayyám, 1048-1131 a.d.

2011-01-15T15:23:00.002-06:00

خيام اگر ز باده مستى خوش باش
با ماه رخى اگر نشستى خوش باش
چون عاقبت كار جهان نيستى است
انگار كه نيستى، چو هستى خوش باش

If with wine you are drunk be happy,

If seated with a moon-faced beauty, be happy,

Since the end purpose of the universe is nothing-ness;

Hence picture your nothing-ness, then while you are, be happy!

آنانكه ز پيش رفته‌اند اى ساقى

درخاك غرور خفته‌اند اى ساقى

رو باده خور و حقيقت از من بشنو

باد است هرآنچه گفته‌اند اى ساقى

Those who have gone forth, thou cup-bearer,

Have fallen upon the dust of pride, thou cup-bearer,

Drink wine and hear from me the truth:

Air is all that they have said, thou cup-bearer.

where to go

2011-01-15T11:41:00.009-06:00

out of lincoln & the first morning this week where i woke up and was able to breathe, & the racing, tumbling, out-of-control cursing rabid screaming demon thoughts had slowed their circuit to a manageable degree.

i dreamed the francine was one of those 3-sides-of-a-square apartment complexes with a gated courtyard in the middle. we managed to flood the courtyard with warm aquamarine water and swam like mermaid children, waving to those in the windows of the first floor who cheered and came running out to join. eventually myrna came, she'd brought a boy i went to school with who later joined the army, she stood and crossed her arms while he yelled at us and the pool drained through the gate.

i dreamed then of being cursed with knowing everyone's secrets, sifting the scraps of lives and words said and written. i was born a vessel and a human lodestone. i cannot know anybody because i then know them too well, can't look at their faces/eyes because i will See Everything and it will overwhelm, obsess and crush me. the lines of intention, chance, and ambiguity web out from them, stringing occurrences and other people in an intricately plotted graph. the graph is laughing and flings wide as a tuna net.
the balance can be maintained but is fragile; often one must detach.
i'm on the floor of my childhood neighbors' house, having broken in. i didn't know they were home. i grip the wainscoting and scoot like a penguin across the tile, silent.

in the final chapter i am on a cruise ship, gleaming and brassy like a steampunk titanic. all of the other passengers except for a handful of us have mysteriously vanished, and we are adrift, free to roam. in the mahogany dining room with gilded cutlery we feast on fruits, meats, and cheeses from the stainless steel kitchens. there are ballrooms to dance in and massive presidential suites but after days we find ourselves clumped socially in odd places, the gift shop, small alcoves. The mood is uniformly relaxed and festive. looking at a map in the captain's office, a line leads up into the mountains, then snarls into a black illegible spiral. The novel ends when, while sitting on a chilly upper deck sailing the arctic sea, the generators flicker and cease to hum.

film stills: brothers of the head

2011-01-13T20:14:00.012-06:00

came for sexy conjoined twins; stayed for sexy conjoined twins

fisty-cuffs

2011-01-12T21:39:00.001-06:00

my parents told me if i was a boy i would have been named shane.

esoteric ambiguous passive aggression

2011-01-11T18:09:00.008-06:00

cutting

2011-01-10T16:55:00.012-06:00

to lose ahold of one's shit
release the gently bitten tongue

the bobcat plowed the snow across the street, backing up frequently, from 2-7 a.m.
the lincoln police department non-emergency line operator working at 4 a.m. did not care. it's okay, i was chewed up in an emo panic-state and being perhaps somewhat unreasonable.

turning out of a parking lot today i almost hit a woman i didn't see; the slush was too deep and i was hanging halfway out on O so that i couldn't stop and she just windmilled and wailed angrily while my spinning tired sprayed and I screamed I'm SOR-ry I am SORRY SORRY I AM SORRY and then sat in the next errand's parking lot sobbing

a day ago i was the queen of cups over-flowing, and here i am whittled back to the bitter quick, slogging in last year's snow with last year's lamentable bullshit stinking under my nose.
it is not so bad to feel cold and hard like a war-horse with feathers in its mane;
nostril-plumes of steam spelling the words "fuck" and "you,"
no it is SO much better than the alternative

it is good to breathe the fresh clean air

two-thousand&11 one - Rosemary's Baby

2011-01-03T19:24:00.009-06:00

I like movies
and friends
("hail satan; hail, satan")

these videos are the only reason i had my data backed up when repairin my soup-drowned macbok pro

2011-01-02T19:09:00.003-06:00

they aren't remotely good or anything (shot with my wee canon which is now broken too), but i didn't want to forget the ants

p.s. my shiny computron is back, is nice

x-mas two K ten

2010-12-25T20:14:00.003-06:00

i started xmas morning with a dream in which i was a contestant on america's next top model. for some reason i had no recollection of having participated in the show but as each episode aired, there i was, lithe, with a long shiny ponytail, standing before the judging panel.
i was utterly shocked, and tried to post a facebook status about how i'd had no idea i was even in the show until i saw myself on tv, just like them. in one episode a blonde girl accused me of being pregnant, which i was not.
i thought (with a private pleasure) that my friends might be impressed and awed at my new fame. i went to a friend's house and the reception was luke-warm; i looked at an open computer to see an email chain between a guy i had an awkward thing with awhile ago and a friend who moved away: harsh criticism of my top model photo shoot from that week. then around me all of my friends were saying i squinted my eyes too much when i smiled, was fatter than the other girls, thought i was so special and cool but was just a joke, etc. i hadn't even wanted to be/known i was on the show.

later (this is not about the dream) i ate a trad. english fry-up, then saw black swan (aw yeah), it has been a nice nice day

time telescoping vignettes

2010-12-14T21:39:00.006-06:00

need to video

interpretations of capture, levels of it
speeds of frame
shots, motions, nuances
angles
comic book vs. film

i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself

10-minute dream

2010-12-03T12:44:00.003-06:00

I dream I'm in a dark-wood, mossy frank lloyd wright house, fallingwater. These black cats keep having sex on the couch and am like hey, hey stop it, quit it guys. I gather the babies they make, which are small brown papery moths with delicate human skulls for heads. I am holding them in a square clear plastic bowl and it is filling with light amber honey, when the honey touches them they dissolve.

quivers and quills

2010-12-03T11:31:00.002-06:00

(source: ffffound)

thanatopical-slooth

2010-12-02T20:36:00.007-06:00

Last night the dumpster across the alley was full overflowing, like a tiny apartment had regurgitated itself into the trash. Each item was old and thrift-rickety but not in a way that suggested distant abandonment. A narrow gas oven, folding plaid-woven lawn chairs, jousting lamp poles and various other tinny furnishings leaning furtively. Home objects left outside seem more alive, perhaps perversely feral.
When i crept in like a carrion-feeder, eying lit windows around me for movement, i found the completeness of the dumpster-side collection disturbing. these items so clearly were a whole Something and not discarded parts; my hands reached for the three worn coffee mugs in turn, a sinking chord crescendo-ing inside,
There is a pile of faded photographs in a dish neatly stacked on the rack, pulled down from a fridge i imagine. i snatch them, and two gritty shallow bowls with yellow flowers. The pictures are nondescript; two brown-haired little boys, a flash-bleached family portrait in front of wood paneling.
By morning light the choice items from the pile are gone, picked to detritus, neatly filtered by the vigilant neighborhood. This soothes me. i wash the little bowls like praying

a good dream

2010-12-01T10:03:00.005-06:00

I dreamed of being in a big antique house with piles of happy thin girls laying on the couches. They reach out to me with gibbony arms and smile.

Then in the distance I hear music and in comes a parade of people and their dogs, walking like the north koreans:

and the people, men and women, are singing in in a handel-esque choir in four parts, and their dogs are singing along with them, each dog matching its owner's pitch and volume in a howl.

I look next to me and there is a light brindle brown dog, who is mine. He is almost like a person in the face though it is a dog face. We lean chummily on each other and watch the parade, I look over into his green-yellow eyes and laugh and say "Arf!", not onomatopoeia but just the word, and he grins and says "Arf! Arf!" back and we laugh because he is a dog pretending to make the noise we say dogs make.

mote aviation

2010-11-27T13:50:00.003-06:00

if you are sick of how things are

fukkin change em

DO IT
COME ON

it is sometimes a hardest thing to stop excusing your self

change vs. fear vs. laziness

2010-11-16T19:33:00.014-06:00

i'm still here. i tell myself excuses about all of my failings pretty much constantly; it is sometimes exhausting to live your life in this way.
excuses are not necessarily untruths, i.e. "sometimes the keyboard keys on this laptop stick and it makes writing anything suck"; "nobody but some close friends and random non-friends (who could be friends if you tried) and potentially stalking coworkers and family members even look over here at this public typing space"

an aside: hello audience, i need you, even if you are just the you out there alone right now and skimming and curious and kind of apathetic. my whole life the (non-family) relationships i've had have been characterized by something that i always felt was a "perverse closeness." i do not know how to connect in any other, more superficial, more easy-breezy way.
throughout childhood and adolescence my friendships were a string of intense female partnerships i entered into -- kate, meghan, courtney, andrea, anna, jess, charlotte, erin. each of these girls in turn would show interest and attention toward me and i would respond with cultish devotion, absorbing whatever parts of them that i could define and offering them my magic in return.

i wrote this song about the girl you hate whom i now also hate.
i also hacked her email account.
i will give you the best hand massage.
i made up this secret written language for us to pass notes in.

i don't know what these girls/friendships have to do with anything but i remembered and am discussing. i should like to return to a free-streaming daily mundane wordytime.
the girls would eventually tire or feel smothered upon realizing that they were my only friend or i don't know. in high school they were replaced by a string of equally intense boyfriends;
i regret that i am rarely able to experience humans for real in any other way (that is not shaded by my faux-but-adept social grace and anxiety). no matter how many people i am around, if i can't get this undefinable and rare soul-probe sunk into a kindred i am lost. i don't know how i am so fucking strong but require a one to hold my hand in order to accomplish basic things without monumental effort. i feel cursedly skilled like a fable.

oh, except on here, that is what i was getting to. i can get at you folks on here, from inside of me, and it is Important.

These Dark Times since the fall-back have made me shine onyx-like, glassy; i feel ready to be braver
my yoga instructor said "be open to change, let this breath change you" but i am not so good at letting

PRAGMATISM
this concept i am lately obsessed with
and consider myself defined by
(but it might be a cop-out)

it turns out i do have a lot to say (however narcissistic), i did not anticipate this but welcome it

dem bonze

2010-11-01T22:46:00.001-05:00

to be a less a frayed

2010-10-26T21:20:00.003-05:00

the BBbb, t and '' keys on ttthe keybbboard of tttthis old lapttop stttick

i'm ttired of editing everytthing so intttensely so i''m' leaving it for now y''all can deal.

i have been dreaming again, almostt always ttthte plot is ttthatt i have moved ttto a new aparttmentt or my apartttmenttt is somehow differentt and wrong, in ttthis dream i watttched paralyzed as my cattt dandy fell off tthe roof and when i gott tto her her littttlte leg was broken attt wrong angles. tthen someone cutttt off thtte heads of bothtt my cattts, butt like tthtat tscene in princess mononoke tthe deer god's head survives and reunittes and i knew if i could save thte heads i could have them sewn back on, i kept tasking my mottther tto help me butt was ignored, i put jauffre''s head in a bowl of icy water and saw thte wide yellow eyes frozen, ttthe other i finally gott sewed and she seemed tto recover though slightly damaged and not fully connectted
then i learned in thte dream tthatt upon completttion of college the next sttep for me was somehow to go back tto freshman year of high school, like, that''s just how it's' done, didn''t you know, and i was sitting in the classroom panicking that i'd have to do it all over again and oh god the vauge cloud of misery that represents high school in my memories, i could pass all these classes in my sleep i did it once already plus, plus now i got trainin' (the t key stopped sticking cool)
sarah palin was in my class and laughed broadly at my surliness. she had a giant piece of something on her teeth and i did not tell her, smug cunt.

i am just today obsessed with the notion that my life is made extremely difficult by the imposition of my own self-hatred.
it is like how we insist on peeling bananas from the bottom when the nubby bottom end is really the top you should peel. can you flip your mental image; i cannot

negligence

2010-10-14T22:02:00.010-05:00

things seem to keep going wrong; last night i thought to myself "oh be careful don't spill the soup on your computer" just one second before the rim slipped my fingers and i spilled soup on my macbook pro. i want to blame the moon or a wandering curse rather than my ineptitude. the macbook is drying much less quickly than my hope, which is a desert indeed. i am on the old powerbook g4 now and she is like revisiting an old friend, the metal casing more silken and comfortable, the weight and warmth on my lap and a screen big and matte that i want to fall into like another world's sky.

something i think that is true about myself is the closeness with which i clutch my emotional deck. i have done a whole lot of moping on the internet, though, so this is where i come. surrogate realities aren't supposed to be healthy but i have been here for awhile and the rest of the world only journeys further in; enter one of my life's major dichotomies: a religious reverence and passion for nature with the other foot firmly planted in pixels.

it feels good to write on this keyboard, the keys are softer on the edges though they require more robust fingers; i imagine this is how another generation found typewriters

i don't know how long it has to be this way; my vision is blurry i am so tired and my tongue is tethered to secretary-speak. i don't know if i'll ever be strong enough to go back to school (financially), the more i feel like i am failing myself on all of my potential futures out of rabbit-fear the more i feel like a big old cliche
i find it difficult to stand up for myself because it's less painful to shut it away; disengage. i bought jeans on ebay and when they arrived they were clearly counterfeit, didn't fit, and had a broken zipper. the seller charged me $12 to ship it in a $4.75 flat rate envelope (i know these things because i ship a lot of legal documents in flat rate envelopes). i wrote a very polite and frank refund request to send back with the jeans and it's sitting next to me just making me ill, confronting someone who is clearly a random asshole trying to play me for a rube. it makes me feel so darkly bruised; deeply embarrassed, to think i may make someone feel ashamed or resentful toward me. i recognize that i "should not"' feel this way.
i don't know how to be more brave in the ways that matter

yellow times & home love

2010-10-13T18:25:00.004-05:00

got to get back on this pony

2010-10-13T07:48:00.002-05:00

gonna do it

also i took down that last post because i guess even with a disclaimer sometimes people don't like when you write "whore" on your own face and then you can't decide if everyone's laughing at you for being a fat retard or not
it's cool though

Last night I dreamed that I moved to a new apartment on a whim, because it seemed kind of cool, but then the sudden loss of my old home crumpled me to the floor and i woke up in an emotional pain, relieved not to have displaced myself.

Soon I'll be going to my job, which is about all I do lately. I feel that I work hard, but it and a combination of other things have given me a recent fear of putting myself out in the world. This kind of sucks and I'd like to get over it.

i am sad

2010-10-01T11:09:00.002-05:00

my dog died is dead

well maybe it is just that time of year

or maybe it's the time of man

i don't know who i am

but you know life is for learning

we are star dust

we are golden

24

2010-09-29T07:00:00.001-05:00

so bored of my self

love to a mews

2010-09-16T18:24:00.006-05:00

please know

2010-08-24T19:40:00.007-05:00

that i am sometimes just
fucked-up &funny but
i still love you &i am the best girl

getting busy

2010-08-16T19:31:00.003-05:00

i can not even think of a damn single reason why not

late summer palette

2010-08-15T16:27:00.012-05:00

check-in

2010-08-10T23:52:00.004-05:00

life is mostly fine,
though too often it is being an npc;
some days consist of broken english
and me, feeble chessmaster of nouns -

there unfurl small joys which
butterfly as the rorschach
on the broad fore-head of the tiger;
the a/c purrs currently near the kingdom
of my mattress; when bourbon touches
the mouth, the anemone skin therein swells,
releasing enamored acids

searches which resulted in visits to this page

2010-08-04T21:49:00.001-05:00

or: alternate website titles