i wonder why starving oneself fills the inner void that is my own starved soul. weird. starve one thing and another fills up with abundance.

isn't college supposed to inspire you? what about education? and yet while i'm in school my creativity is little to none. sara teasdale this, ezra pound that, walt whitman, amy lowell, ginsberg, keats, yeats.. music is a way to sleep, not to draw from my heart; even portishead is a lullaby.

(by the way, you're disgusting. don't look at me that way. don't hit on my friends when they clearly don't even remotely like you.)

why is it impossible to find ANYTHING on sara teasdale? and is it possible to completely disappear? a sunny day real estate cd, a cup of hot tea, and the open road? recipe for a beautiful disaster.

you are my sweetest downfall.
i loved you first.

a thief detests the criminal

years of living can be harmful to one's body - but even more so to one's brain.


life being what it is, we all dream of revenge.

the knife

what you do? completely expected.

i think i had every reason to be worried. you have a lot of things you need to work out. i'll still be here.

and you, you knew the hands of the devil
and you, kept us awake with wolf's teeth
sharing different heartbeats
in one night

"it will never be easy to
tell the truth when the
truth is accepting what comes
easiest to us --" and you
paused (for effect) and it took
everything i had not to spill
my zealous heart to you.

the bass
played true
heart beats
playing
over the
sound of
colors
swimming
under
neath us

your hands have heartbeats
calling me towards you
your hands have a pulse
and my blood is running cold.
these velvet drapes leave
nothing to be hidden -

except
here, what
is in
my so
zealous
heart that
i hide
deli
cately
for pride

it would be just my
luck to surrender under
heartbeats on this
vibrating dance floor -
bass lines pushing forward
to break
my
spine

mainframe

your stomach growled under pressure
from my fingertips etching further
into the plasticities that made
up the fragile inner heart:
making me laugh in retrospect
when your heartbeat grazed the
intricate, detailed fingerprint lines making
the heart of fragile existence:

that fragile existence not being
mine, but ours, together, collectively,
the textbook definition of us
colliding together with pictures and
words, grasping at theories and
ideas not yet widely known

(if i had to write
an encyclopedia definition of your
laugh, it'd take the whole
alphabet just to dissect the
small parts, and the numerical
system to analyze your heart -

so when you utter just
one word from those soft,
sweet lips of yours, honey
i am dangling on the
tips of them, falling precisely
at every second of sanity
that could be lost in
this game you delicately play)

skyscrapers were just buildings before
they met us, but now
they are reduced to rubble
despite their grandiose, overused fame;
and we take their place,
larger than life on our
pedestals, just waiting for the
bomb to erupt inside our
mainframe

one thousand ninety-six

I

one: must seemed to been
three years; been here before
the sun rose at five

and at sixteen she lost
it, the seventh wonder,
trailing her with regret 'til
eighteen where she

curled up on the cold tiles
[didn't find her 'til nine
by then, was too late
to resuscitate]

t.o.d.: ten:ten pm

II

from the window, top story
brought out beneath blue blankets
we watched despite our horror
of what happens to little
girls who know no better

"it's a shame," newscasters reported
on the morning news, coffee
cups clinking on the breakfast
bar where condolences spread like
some rapid infection

and tears caught in the
tugs of her aging skin;
the only thing she had
left taken by the inability
to respect someone else's body

III

barely decorated cube of fabric
in the middle of commotion
that never seemed to end,
in the middle a head
too heavy to pick up

little white dots trailing internally
the indiscernible path of smiling
caplets washed down with the
dark lager of devil's fame

wonders how life could be
reduced to such a shameless
reproduction of careful chemistry work
intricately placed beneath our tongues

IV

grew up humbly, in houses
that were never my own
with bullet wounds placed between
his eyes, blood vessels snapping

to compensate the hate that
fell behind the finger's trigger
and the arm that pulled
that illusive, immortal life line

where jump ropes used to
smack black pavement in rhythm
falls white chalk, running right
in line with blood trails

V

and you laugh in my
face.. of all the places
you could have hurt me,
of course you know me

well enough to chose the
spot that hurts the most:
that's what you were always
good at, the pain that

burns in my blood when
i could only feel cold
(and one thousand ninety-six
miles to go, but only

one thousand ninety-five
will get me closer to
your frozen heart that stays
in limbo between being your

favorite secret and your worst
regret)

ellipsis

crystalline patterns making notes in
the surface of this baby blue dream:
singing to me, silently, the way you
used to, lips parted, barely showing

every part of this habitual paradise
is reminiscent of your dim features

when did this begin? transversely
will this ever have a happy ending
and the diamonds fall from the sky
clinking as they hit the concrete beneath

i erase every part of you, your
words that stay in my heart, burning
like the fire you torched the red
petals with after prom night

(i am that country road, dark like
death, but illuminated like heaven
pulling together sounds, smells,
lights, burnt ends and tires

and you are the big city street
i intersect with, the crashing noise
of wheels versus pavement versus
your heart versus my heart versus

the rain that falls eloquently beneath my feet)

"i know i am an asshole, but
i hope you would never stop
being my friend ..." - but now
i leave the ellipsis to you

snd

there are a million things running through my mind and not a single one of them tell me how to phrase this the "right way".

see.. the past few days my heart has been on some serious overdrive, the kind where you're wondering if it's about to explode or if it's just trying to test your limits. a little recap:

sunday: beating with rage. the pounding kind that makes you want to clench your fist together in an attempt to beat anything you see. mostly out of pride than out of anger..the kind of anger i didn't think i had felt in a long time, but somehow, some way you pulled it out of me. i cried at work, in front of my callous boss (who i never intended to show anything but content apathy to). the next day i took my anger and channeled it straight into weights and running.
monday: after the endorphins wore off, i laid in bed until two am in a nervous wreck of sorts. it wasn't until you texted me and told me you had woken up because you felt as if there were something wrong with me that i realized the decision i made - what i said - was something i would never regret. no matter what the consequences were. that type of love? that's something that's irreplaceable. and if that's something you dislike so damn much, then maybe you weren't really my friend in the first place.

'cause see - sometimes i do shit that i know i shouldn't. sometimes i don't look before i leap. but neither do you. i have tried being supportive, and i'm sorry if that wasn't enough.

i'll never know with you. ever. i've been put in that situation so many times and had it turn out badly that i just can't risk my heart like that anymore. don't talk to me like i don't understand - honey, i've seen more things than you think i have, a lot more things than you could even comprehend yourself, and vice versa i'm sure. i just can't handle the pain anymore. there has to be a final say or i'll draw it myself.

and in the backyard we will have our own vegetable garden

your lips against my collar bones and
traveling versus my jawline -
eyes open gently, morning comes too soon
in our suburbanite dream of
wrap-around porches and white swings
hanging from giant birch trees

but we have lived this right to where
this morning we may bask in the deflected
glow of the sunlight through glass bottles
sitting on the windowsill
my head on your shoulder, nowhere to go
for the time being, just lay here with me,
relaxed - we are happy -

the type of happy screaming in your lungs
that breathing is a vital art for our existence
and i'll get up soon to make you breakfast but
for now remember that

one heart is never enough to change the world
two half-assed will never turn heads.
but we,
we defy statistics with this stagnant rhythm
a lifeline sky-rocketing to break all technology

inside this white victorian, we hold our dreams
high in the air for all to see
we may not be perfect and we may not be right
but emotions this strong - this powerful -
these are the ones we will use to fight.

mix in a little passion.

i tried, okay? and i couldn't explain it like you wanted me to, and i was stuck vulnerable (yet AGAIN - seems like this is a common theme between you and i), head over a piece of paper that will remain blank, unlike this blog which i wish i could fill up with wretched things... which i will not allow myself to.

life is so fleeting. if there's anything i know, that's it. i've had enough people taken away from me from six years old on and i know how it feels to be completely lost, like you can't breathe, because you've lost a certain person that you feel you absolutely need in your life. i know how that felt when i lost her, when i lost him, when i lost them. it's the hardest thing i ever went through in my life, sitting on that white swing and pretending like everything was going to be okay. and the branch broke and smack-dap-bam right on the top of my head and i wondered why - if HE was there - that HE would let this happen to me.

par for the course, right? part of life. therefore, this was my lesson, and the lesson i will share with you. life sucks. there will be parts that are redeeming but there will also be parts that will rip your heart to shreds. you can't complain about them, you can't feel isolated (even though you will) because everyone has to go through it.

yes. right then and there, i said religion isn't for me. it took me a couple of years to know that i meant it - but for all the wrong reasons. that's a personal matter, one that i will not entrust in you until you understand some vital things about me:

a. yes, i'm quiet, but that's something you need to respect at times. i grew up an only child, raised around adults, and i learned very quickly that my mind responds to my own quiet thinking times and my own loud outbursts. my friends know how to draw it out of me. if you want to know, you'll learn.

b. i am stubborn as hell when it comes to what i want. and i'm not talking about what i want in reference to something i can buy. i'm talking about my future, not even my career, but that i'm determined to make something of myself. i've seen enough people fail in the past and i'm not being cold-hearted when i say this, but yeah i'm having fun with my life and i need it void of the stupid drama certain relationships will put in my life. that being said, if you think you're going to step in between and my path, think again.. i will push you right back off.

c. i will love hard, fast, passionately. that's the type of person i am. if my heart beats for you it will beat ardently in one direction. i'm loyal to a fault, romantic to the core, and dedicated to someone else's happiness if it suits right.

d. i'm the most carefree person otherwise. completely laid-back, apathetic towards most petty vices and problems.

so laugh if you want to, get mad if you want to, leave if you want to. but if there's anything that i'll know, i'll know that i left knowing i did the best that i could. and that's all that matters.

eating cheese on toast

why is it that lately you've been on my mind? non-stop, almost. i thought of that picture we took at sazios and how smitten i was with it... because you looked amazing. and how i still suck at skee ball. and how your yellow bug was the most amazing car to ever exist..

and i listen to kate nash's merry happy and can't help thinking about you.

yea you make me merry, make me very very happy, but you obviously didn't want to stick around... so i learned from you. i can be alone, yeah, i can watch a sunset on my own..

('cause you can make flowers grow from where dirt was.)

just while i'm thinking about it..

a little honesty never hurt, right? so barring all consequences, i'll fess up to how i really feel. i miss you. i miss your tattoos and the 3 am conversations and beating you in air hockey (because i really am just that ballin') and in a way, almost how you'd look at me unbelievingly when i said something ridiculously stupid (like takka burns. i realize all vodka burns, but takka is on it's own disgusting level).

you intimidated me in ways you could never understand. two years older than i and your life experiences were far advanced. a good percent of the time, i felt vulnerable beneath your hand.. and the more i thought about you and i the more i freaked a little and felt a little more inadequate. yeah, it's true i didn't come from a sheltered home.. living with ultra liberal hippy parents is not code word for it by any means. but still, the fact that i couldn't relate made me hesitant. i wanted to believe you were extremely genuine..

but in a dog eat dog world where i used to throw trust around, i've learned that not everyone would treat me with the loyalty that i'd treat them... and i'm sorry, but i had you pegged as one of those people.

so i ran. to someone else, far away from you, because i thought (and still do) that you were just pushing my limits. check plus for a lesson towards maturity.. my confidence levels were severely lacking. i didn't believe, therefore i could not do. my own fault. before you i had dated one person for three/four years, and had pulled the plug on such merely three months earlier; had gone on dates and had been interested in several people but always went back to that really-bad-for-me relationship (my fault, every single time. first loves, you know?). you solidified that i never needed to go back to that, even though i had decided it for myself... c always used to tell me that no one would love me. i was unloveable (obviously not). i guess i never got to tell you that...

now you won't talk to me and i probably deserve that. but i do miss you.. your dolly parton obsession, love for coffee, mysterious smile.. i think of you everytime i see that orange bracelet (yea, i still have it. yea, i still wear it). maybe it's dumb to dwell.. but i think it's better to admit my fallacies.

summer plans

one hundredth post.

two days until the end of the semester, and then another week in pulaski until graduation. summer is coming soon and for that, i'm extremely excited.

my tentative summer vacation plans include, but are not limited to, the following:

holland with my parents/brent
damascus, va/mount rogers with my parents
colorado with claire
maine!! to see andrea.

i don't know how much more excited i could be for this summer. it's going to be beyond wonderful. if anyone else has any other plans, any road trips to add to this list, make it happen!

nature: a focus, pt. 1

a blank page and i are enemies. mortally so - engaged in combat between fist and teeth. snyder sat on a mountain far out on the east coast. quiet - never mustered a word - and this mountain top was his self-inflicted god positioning. zen taught him to be still. life taught me to be still. therefore - in our own ways - we are similar. (i need my silence - this is why we are not compatible. our energies do not match and my levels are overly-dependent on times of complete quiet, whether by body or by mouth, and creative independence which denotes my every thought.) when i need placidity, i create my own. when i need coherence, i develop my own.
the most beautiful union is in that of music and environment; the way certain melodies intertwine effortlessly with the simplest things. the gentle swish of a branch is depicted by simply sliding one's fingers against guitar strings. it's not hard to see the underlying beauty in all of nature - all one must do, in theory, is return to their creative roots. we are born from this earth, from these roots, those leaves, that dirt. we are given to it in hopes that we are able to see our own inequities. we have a relationship with it - at times, an unheard union; at others, a fully-developed, gallantly-approached marriage which we scream at the top of our lungs.
it gives and it takes away. within itself, nature is it's own goddess (goddess because, like general female nature, it is both rational and temperamental - moody as she may be, as i am). it is every piece of art worth mentioning, every line of a poem quoted from a poet's mouth. save prestige: it is all of humility. save humility: it is all of prestige. all encompassing, all surpassing, all creating: this is the merciless yet contradictorily forgiving "God" the bible speaks of. and yet the image of this biblical "God" is tainted by the mortal presence and the mortal hand.
religion, like nature, is a personal experience - a journey which takes place within one's own limitations and one's own mind. quite possibly, this is where it should be left - an inner creation, to each his own, played by ear or by practice and repetition. never confined to meaningless, controlling rulings of time-restrained cultural beliefs. that one may live as one pleases, without harming the lives of others, should this not to be the general thesis of religion?
thus - everything is touching. religion, science, nature, mathematics, music, philosophy, psychology, music, art, sex, and all it's many genres and subdivisions and sub-sub points and roman numerals and bullet points. the only way one thing cannot touch another is due to the mental limitations and need for compartmentalization humans have placed on every aspect of this beautiful, non-restrictive earth.

got it all wrong.

4 am in the morning - reminds me of finals week last semester when wes, chris, melody and i played hide and seek in walmart and then fell asleep in mel's room because i couldn't find my key (it was perfectly placed between my seat and the console. i found it the next morning at 8, half-groggy from sleeping on her floor, imprints emblazoned in my skin from where i had laid). except this morning we bought care bear bouncy balls and a bra and i felt stoned as i sat with brent in my car, bra attached firmly to my head (reminding me of, in a way, a cat whose ears had been cut off) listening to louis armstrong and annie lennox and joan osborne and enya - anything ridiculous, you name it, we played it. i burnt the edges of my hemp bracelets with the lighter that was hidden in my cup holder. 4 am - indicative so much of my life that i love. the crazy situations and the people and the things that just make it so undeniably worth living. and even though we listened to gary jules' version of "mad world" (these dreams in which i'm dying/are the best i've ever had), these dreams in which i'm living/are the best i've ever had.

someone left in my truth box that i underestimate the power of my words. i wonder what it means, but i think i know (i just always tend to over-guess). sometimes i wish my words meant so much more to certain people. sometimes i wish people wanted to know me as much as i wanted to know them. sometimes i wonder - sometimes i wonder if this foolish game we play is really just a one-way street and i'm the one you trample on.

that makes no sense to anyone - but i wish you had taken interest. really, i do. i wish you had wanted to know things about me. but you never did - never will. so what's it matter?

"sometimes they aren't as anonymous as one would hope" - wouldn't life be better without anonymity? sure, it makes guessing fun, it makes life full of adventure, but... when do the masks come off? when is everything revealed?

all in a matter of time, and i guess sometimes we'll never figure it out, right? sucks to think that there's a week left and there's no possible way for me to turn back time.

credible love.

the last day of school was today.. i had three classes this morning and then my last speech for speech class at 5 30 (about pj harvey, who else?) and i'm done for the year. that's exciting - no more school for a whole four months? hell yes. i'll miss everyone who's graduating or leaving this year, so that's sad, but we've got a week.. i wonder if i'll stop being a pus and do something about it? eh. it's not like i can rewind time - not like i could give it more.

i don't know. i'm so confused about a couple things. things that will go nameless, so what's the point in even saying anything about it?

i forgot how much i love the lucksmiths. especially this song..



'cause trying to sum you up in song is like trying to catch sunlight in a jar.


yea... for you.

she knows me better than i know myself.

'cause we'll all just lovers and takers, breaking hearts to make the papers. she wants love, i told her to stop trying, 'cause the reasons for her tears aren't worth crying.

(this life is a beautiful one.)

pungency.

i got through the past week of non-stop working, which is definitely taking a lot of stress off my shoulders right now. i've taken four tests, written a paper, given a speech, and made an outline and now it's time for just a little rest. and we all know that "resting" directly translates to "thinking"... so here goes nothing.

i haven't been nice lately. not at all. i wouldn't call it straight being a bitch - i really try to stray away from just being mean. but i've been easily annoyed and the way i deal with frustration is by, in a way, ignoring most everything except that which i have to get done. so if i've been snappy or out of it lately around you, i'm really sorry. i have some things i need to figure out, some decisions i need to make, none of which have been easy on me - but that's no reason to take it out on anyone else. i think it's just human nature, though.. to get stressed and take frustrations out on anyone else who comes close. it's just natural.

i've been listening to lykke li and el perro del mar a lot lately. lykke li's voice makes me swoon a little bit; i won't even lie.

i think i'm going to start taking some time out to just be by myself completely. it's the only way i think i can really thrive. the more i'm alone, the less irritated i am, and that's what i'm striving for, right? so that's something.

turned in my pre-application and application for the tycc. now i'm waiting for a call back. :) i'm really excited to be living at home this summer, and hopefully working with them and volunteering for the red cross. it'll be a great summer.

on that note.. i'm done. for right now. something else will probably pop in to my head later, but for right now i'm too tired to even think of anything else.

... oh, and one more thing? graduation is the same weekend as beale street music festival. i am NOT happy. i think they should fix it.. to suit my schedule. just kidding. :)

you,

i will stay away.. avoid that which i want. seems like a good idea right now, might not be, who knows. they say go after what you really want and yet i cannot. what i really want is fleeting. what i really want is most definitely not what i really need. it's unrequited - this i know. and i was looking for that but to me, it would not be unrequited. it would make my heart hurt in the best way. and thus i will not think anything of it.

take different paths for the next couple weeks. ignore. repeat. ignore. then go home. the end.

home is the end and how many things i wish i could say is the beginning. i will skip the beginning. what i want to say will not come out of my mouth, to save everyone. in the words of newton faulkner: "you do so much that you don't know."

what am i even worrying about? vague isn't necessary, this won't be seen.

(say anything. please.)

harold weathervein

you were laying perpendicular to the ground, head first, hair hanging precariously close to the carpet below. i remember it more clearly than i really ever wished to: the way you'd look at me, then at the accidentally draping fabric that made up the interior of my car, then back to me. i'd blush every time you'd look at me, and i fully admitted it, each time; there was no use hiding candy-apple-red cheeks. cursive lyrics danced from my speakers. we liked this most: driving at night when the road was ours and ours alone, listening to music that reminded us of our own self-inflicted teenage angst (if at first you don't succeed/you gotta recreate your misery/'cause we all know art is hard/young artists have gotta starve/try and fail, and try again/the comforts of repetition/keep churning out those hits/'til it's all the same old shit) and talking to each other as if our words were being written down in a leather-bound journal as we spoke.

yeah, i had every intention of leaning over that night our feet hung off the ledge of my roof. i had every intention of wrapping you in my arms. i had every intention of you wrapping me in yours. le chevalet et la palette hangs above your head in the blue backdrop, but we can only feel it is there... it is not to be seen. de lacaille could have pointed out for you, but you chose me instead. asked me what kind of paintbrushes you should use and what type of paint and what colors and..

i picked out a vibrant blue. you knew blue was my favorite color. (hercules peeks out from behind the golden draperies. with a raised eyebrow, he asks if i have seen pegasus. no - hercules - i have not.) you gotta sink to swim, so we jumped off that ledge. fully clothed. broke a couple bones, nothing major, just something to pass the time away. when i told them they'd say i was fucked in the head for what i did with you. for the time i spent and the minuscule trouble we got ourselves into. they didn't understand that broken bones meant nothing more than battle scars. us against the world. us against us. you'd write it with your paintbrushes, i'd write it with my fingers dug deep in the clay. make something to put on the top shelf of your two-story apartment downtown. another to stow away in your bottom drawer.

[in the smoky bar, we sat in the back where the floor was raised slightly - they assumed that those in the back would need a little lift to see past the crowd. the boy in the band had gritty, stringy hair that fell all around his face, contained only by a makeshift bandanna tied to his forehead. (my name is driftwood.) his arms were moving at an alarmingly fast rate for my mind at that point. the phenomenon was coming from his drum set as he beat so precisely, each time. forget the guitarists - they were all played out, anyway. forget the lead - her voice cracked every time she made eye contact with me (i'm still sorry. i didn't mean to steal the heart that once belonged to you). bloody murdered. redrum. redrum. danger will robinson.]

big brother is coming. radar and hawkeye and pierce. it's only a flesh wound... the tape deck was broken so we loaded your gun and shot into the sky for effect. made a pretty noise. crack, snap, pop - we hit phoenix in the wing. pyxis guides home. pegasus is hiding behind ursa major - hercules is still looking.

you - you do not guide home. you do not provide any solitary confinement for my ever-wandering mind. you... you torture me. with every smile. i think what i should not think and i tell you so each time and it is as if i can feel my feet being pulled out from underneath me;


(it's almost time for sleep.)

thinking fight, fight, fight...

i heard the sound of your bike,
as your wheels hit the gravel,
then your engine in the driveway
cutting off
and i pushed through the screen door
and i stood out on the porch
thinking fight, fight, fight
at all costs,
but instead i let you in,
just like i’ve always done
and i sat you down and offered you a beer
and across the kitchen table
i fired several rounds,
but you were still sitting here
when the smoke cleared.
and you came crawling back
to say that you wanna
make good in the end

and oh, oh,
let me count the ways
that i abhore you,
and you were never a good lay
and you were never a good friend
but, oh, oh, what else can i say...
i adore you

all i need is my leather,
one t-shirt and two socks,
i’ll keep my hands warm
in your pockets
and we can use the engine block,
and we’ll ride out to california
with my arms around your chest,
and i’ll pretend that this is real
’cuz this is what i like best,
and you’ve been juggling two women
like a stupid circus clown
telling us both we are the one
and maybe you can keep me from ever being happy,
but you’re not gonna stop me from having fun.
so let’s go before i change my mind
i’ll leave the luggage of all your lives behind
’cause i am bigger than everything that came before.

and you were never very kind,
and you let me way down every time
but oh, oh, oh what can i say...
i adore you

i heard the sound of your bike,
as your wheels hit the gravel,
then your engine in the driveway
cutting off



yeah - it’s a little egotistical. maybe a little mean. but anyone has to know this is how i operate. you can do whatever you please, and you may think that it will upset me but most of the time - most of the time it won’t. i’ve had my fair share of high school relationship melodramatics and i’m surely not going to buy tickets to see the fake emotion show, especially not to please anyone else.

it has to be said. you fuck me over, don’t expect me to turn back around. i’ll walk towards something bigger, better than myself. maybe sometimes i push people away. maybe sometimes i am a little too drastic. but i will never be that stupid little girl who begs for you to come back. i will never be that girl who tries to force you into doing what you do not want to do. i am self-empowered and self-reliable... i can damn well take care of my own fucking self. i was once that girl - never again. it’s pathetic.

this is that spectrum brent and i were talking about.. my spectrum of codependency vs. independence. this is my independence - take it or leave it, love it or hate it - it’s beyond my control.

a little bit ridiculous, a lot bit amazing

just a little peak into how ridiculous laws can be. this article is from the journalism department at san fransisco state university.

fun facts:

places where oral sex is illegal: alabama, arizona, florida, idaho, kansas, louisiana, massachusetts, minnesota, mississippi, georgia, north & south carolina, oklahoma, oregon, rhode island, utah, virginia, and wahington d.c.

an erection that shows through a man’s clothing is illegal in: arizona, florida, idaho, indiana, massachusetts, mississippi, nebraska, nevada, new york, ohio, oklahoma, oregon, south dakota, tennessee, utah, vermont, washington d.c. and wisconsin.

in georgia those charged and convicted for either oral or anal sex can be sentenced to no less than one year and no more than 20 years imprisonment.

in missouri sexually deviant behavior between people of the same sex is classified as a class a misdemeanor.

in harrisburg, pennsylvania it is against the law to have sex with a truck driver in a tollbooth. (there’s every woman’s fantasy gone down the drain).

in nevada it is illegal to have sex without a condom.

in willowdale, oregon it is against the law for a husband to talk dirty in his wife’s ear during sex.

in clinton, oklahoma it is illegal to masturbate while watching two people have sex in a car.

in washington state there is a law against having sex with a virgin under any circumstances (including the wedding night!).

in newcastle, wyoming it is illegal to have sex in a butcher shop’s meat freezer.

in washington d.c. there is a law against having sex in any position other than face to face.

animals are not exempt from the law either, and here are three of the most ridiculous:

in kingsville, texas there is a law against two pigs having sex on kingsville airport property.

in fairbanks, alaska it is illegal for mooses to have sex on the city sidewalks.

lastly, even liberated california proves to be not quite so liberal for the animals... in ventura county cats and dogs may not have sex without a permit.


(i think this may be a bit outdated - the article states that the last olympics were held in georgia, and that was almost 12 years ago.)

speaking of which:

nothing to no one which is you

writing this down to be facetious
the curls on my letters and the dots on my i’s
playing a symphony on my breathing
wasting my time on you for years
all due to my own naivety

when they told me -
girl, it’s not right. just drop it
i did not listen; i did not hear
i wanted to believe -

that maybe you could have tried
to love me; to hold me, to keep me close
to care when i turned away
to drown in my tears

my head works this way
this way that says emphatically that
you should listen to my every word and that
i should be the only one you hear and
i should be the only one you care for and

it will all fall apart.
all of this will
when stepping stones become advances
and advances become stepping stones
and i am the stepping stone you
so graciously twirl upon...

neoclassical post-modern big-worded existence

feeling is overrated. like the feeling of hard-swallowed lungs or of soft-hearted whispers or of fingers against fingers against -- and you stop awkwardly in the syntax of conceptual period-ism. because punctuation is but a flaw in the human existence; lyrics a mistake in the pretense of a baby’s breath. if a song were to be the anthem of our heart beat could it also be the grammar of our placement? when three times three equals nine so does red times blue equals yellow. that each feeling, each notion, each instinct is an open, live, breathing experience signifies that each is, transversely, a person in it’s own reasoning. we will read all these things - "classics" from romanticism to classical to "neoclassicism" and post-modernism and --------------

all the labels will run over but in time will all be eradicated. movements, sexuality, gender, race - all mixed and confined to lines in a history book and all the passion dually felt is lost in the frugal ink of historians and artists and mathematicians and biologists and swimmers and idle on the tongues of dead Presidents rolling over in their graves. the ideals of feminism lost to time’s eraser; the girls who riot contained by headstones. chauvinism is stuck at the root of it’s ugly conceptions (because we know it starts from the balls and continues to the head). what will win? the persuasion of this century is slowly losing power with mini-skirts and animal-made covergirl (easy. breezy. beautiful: horse’s hoof) and the music that once created a movement slowly dies down and is patted to the ground by presupposing, lacking lyrics by our nation’s pink highlights - avril and aly & aj and britney. between your lover’s lips and statutory rape. strength here is underdone, lost in heels and high fashion and traveling and prefixes, titles, commands, demands and - above all - the quest for monetary fame.

imploring the possibility of a bilingual society

imploring the possiblity of a bilingual society:

tonight, brent and i were sitting at dinner when our waiter (a very sweet guy, by the way) came up and asked us what the difference between "i will" and "i would" was. we helped him, and then our minds wandered to other things.. thus being that as a society, i believe that we should be bilingual as many european countries are (i.e.: the european union requires of schools to teach not only the native tongue, but also two other of the official languages of the union). in an ever-expanding society, i really do think it is necessary to not only know at least the basics of minority languages (spanish, especially) but be fluent in another language (of their choice). just as musical instruments are said to help children focus as they learn to play, i honestly think that if children are exposed to different languages, they will be able to broaden their horizons at a younger age, thus encouraging tolerance as well as, possibly, a better success rate. just a thought...

i plan to be bilingual eventually, if not multilingual. preferably in spanish and either dutch or german. but we will see how that works out... brent also brought up the possibility of taking a class in latin and (atleast) knowing the basics because latin is the foundation for the romantic languages. i’ve always fallen in love with languages and how english ties in to different cultures, and i really do think it’s an important thing to think about... and i honestly think only ignorance fosters inhibition to learning foreign languages (and notice how i said "ignorance" not "stupidity": by ignorance, i mean not being informed on such).



in other news, i’ve decided that my persuasive speech for class will be over growth hormones and pesticides in food, and that my tribute speech will be a dedication to janis joplin. i was going to do a piece about women in the media and how it affects a female child’s self image, but brent said that i’d sound like a hairy-armpit, dread-headed, crazy-ass hippy feminist.. and i decided that the subject itself wold be too much passion for merely 12 minutes (really - i could dedicate hours upon hours about how women should not be seen as their tits or their sexual worth. i have a mind too, y’know). he also called janis joplin a gay tribute speech... yea, whatever. i love janis and everything she embodies.. a wonderful feminine spirit with a kick-ass attitude.


don't compromise yourself. you are all you've got.

i felt you in my heart ---

i need you so much closer. why aren’t you next to me right now?

i am glad that i’ve gotten you into tegan and sara in the last few days, because i want you to know that when i listened to nineteen the other day i thought of you (i felt you in my life, before i even thought to, felt the need to lay down beside you and tell you: i feel you in my heart, and i don’t even know you), and even more than that i thought of the night that i drove to where you were at 6 am in the morning just because i knew you needed someone to be there for you. you asked me why that morning as we laid in my bed, watching the sun come up. and i said i didn’t know. but the truth was that i felt you in my heart...

maybe i felt you in my heart those seconds that we had, those stolen glances, those are you really looking? or am i crazy? thoughts. maybe i felt you in my heart when we first made eyes at that party way back, last semester where i decided i’d take my straps off and tuck them in my back pocket. i don’t really know. all i know is that - one fateful day, on my way back from columbia (after a failed attempt to go to a band of horses concert) you asked me what i was doing and it was all over from there. for that day two weeks before - for that day in the cafeteria where you were sitting behind me - for that day where we laid in my bed until 8 am talking about anything and everything in between.. for that weekend when everything came crashing down and brent and i drove to meet you and i held you that sunday morning and the six of us watched the superbowl and complained about how shitty the weather was..

our roadtrips and everything else in between and i don’t know where i’m going with this, but i think - i know - i felt you in my heart, and still do.

to whom it may concern

i feel like words fail me when they in fact are my liberator. sitting by the window and outside the snow is falling hard and i am dying to be close to a fireplace but instead i am stuck in this solitary confinement - away from human contact. away from you. it was only you that kept my sanity in check and where were you when my sanity was slipping away? so far gone -- i could envision your eyes that lit up like the north star and guided me home. they say the north star always guides you home, but what happens when that north star has disappeared into the backdrop of the night sky?

they're laughing outside this glass pane and i'm concocting plans of somehow cutting a circle in this glass and squeezing through. the happiness eludes me and yet i want so badly to be in the know...

your voice is bouncing through the muscles in my brain. and all i want is you here - need you here....

i'll never know you like you know yourself

i can't write when you're not here.


i just want you to be here and share the other side of my headphones with me. i miss you.

a dream sequence, pt. 1

the talking is incessant. we start these speeches out with run, jane run - simplistic in nature, but we're laughing at the unheard complexities (why is jane running? from the irs?). sometimes when i speak out, i'm speaking to you, though not directly, and i wish you could understand it. your chest was rising like the sun on the horizon beneath my fingers which traced your alien heartbeat. the colored charcoal stains my fingers; this picture is never finished. i highlighted the green stems with a spot of yellow, here and there. my finger causes friction over the dust, blending it in, picturesque payment. your heart is here under this piece of cheap canvas. (i picked it up from behind that old man's apartment building. a little stained, but nothing i couldn't work in.)

my thermos is decorated, though unintentionally. the warm flavored liquid is spicy and burns at my throat as it trickles down. the studio floors mark my knees and elbows with their existence, as i bend forward to illustrate these feelings. the warmth channeled into the palms of my hand, holding them equally apart around this piece of colored of colored plastic. my mind is blank as to how i could bring these edges together. the dark weather outside is stifling - the dark clouds block the sunlight from evading these 12th-floor glass panes. in my head, i am somewhere else ---

it'd be a grave disservice to you if i told you my location, because i'd want you to find it for yourself. at first, i didn't even know, myself; the surroundings were completely dark, hiding beneath the circumference of the palm tree leaves. a cool, salty breeze played tag against the bare pieces of my skin, summoning me forward. in the distance, a light was blazing on the end of a wooden post; a plank was lifted by bricks and held in place with what seemed like pure magic. as my senses adjusted, my eyes caught vision of people. several of them, dressed similarly, the same tourist-ridden uniform that defined generations of travelers. their eyes were all diverted to one central focal point, the brightest point in this conglomeration of humans...

(back in the studio apartment, a rapping noise came at my front door, pulling me back to reality. who was this, disturbing my sequence?)

good morning, sunshine.

my hands, my arms, my fingers are chapped. flaky, disgusting, pale. i hate the effects of winter on my skin; it's like as soon as the trees and plants start to die, so do my skin cells. i've heard this is only natural, but i (for some pessimistic reason) believe that the human race is made up of nothing more than cynics who like to believe life only throws bad things towards them. perhaps i'm wrong, but.. you never know.

i feel like i trust people too easily, and maybe not enough sometimes. there is no medium with me. and sometimes people i should trust i don't, and vice versa, but it's all such a confusing concept to me to begin with. trust is just another way to get stabbed, but without it, we'd be screwed right? it's lose-lose no matter which way you look at it.

i guess they're right. the boys. when they said that girls have two languages: reality and opposites. when we say "no" and really mean "yes", or when we say "no" and actually mean "no". i can understand the confusion, because i can barely comprehend what goes on inside of my head sometimes, so how could anyone else?

(it snowed in pulaski today. and somewhere in between moping and whining over my dry skin, i twirled around underneath the speckled falling sky and caught a few on my tongue, on my eyelashes, on my lips. all i could think was, when i look up, are they looking down on me? are they smiling like i'm smiling. because when i look up all i feel is warmth, like it used to feel when you'd give me a hug before i left. those long, soft hugs that i always loved and would come back for several times. i always wondered what his hugs really felt like. they keep telling me that i'm like him in so many ways, and i know he's my father and all, but it's hard to figure out how you could be so much like someone who you were barely around before they crossed over.)

it never occured to me until tonight how much i might miss them on the day that i'd want nothing more than to share this with them. would i even be here, on my bed at martin, had things worked differently? would i have known the amazing people who have opened me up and allowed me to be who i am today? what would i be like? it's an impossible question to answer, so i won't even try. but i will say that it'd be pretty nice to know. (regardless, i think i'm better off the way i am.)

just for your approval

everyone is a writer, right? because we all have something to talk about. and when we have something to talk about, we know we have to have somewhere to write it down. and when we write it down, we know we desperately want somewhere to publish it. and when we publish it, we feel as if we should have someone to read it. and when they read it, we feel as if we need a critical review -- and regardless of whether it's good or whether it's bad we all go on about our way saying that it needs a golden star. approval.

all those gold stars could only lead up to one thing, right? so thus it means that, by the former definition, writing is only a way to get gold stars. to get approval.



(remember that time i said i'd stop, and then i found a couple american spirits in my bag? i do too. and i also remember how incredible it felt to break a promise to myself. that makes us imperfect, right? the ability to break our own promises to ourselves. the ability to look at our faces and think that somehow, some way, we are perfect. but none of us are. and those who try so hard to perfect that outer appearance are only trying to hide the not-so-great one on the inside.)


my ideas have been lost between the flame needed to ignite the wick on my honeydew candle, that has since been transferred to light the end of your cigarette. they weren't packed very well. you blow out into the cold night and smile at me as the strings of smoke sneak through the microscopical gaps between your two front teeth. (you find that utterly unattractive. but it's imperfection, right?) and then you laughed, because you saw me watching that ribbon of smoke dancing around in the air, and you asked me what i found so interesting about its choreography. why it was so daunting to me. i wanted to write on your fingers - on the webbed edges connecting each of your fingers and up and down your hand and on your wrist. just things. so you'd think of me. things that would confuse the hell out of you, make you think twice. three times.

and then we laughed, in unison. about the same thing. i grabbed on to your side and held you close to me and under the artificial lights we burned, melted, jolted together.


(when i woke up, i wrote this. and on the top of the page, right underneath my name and the date, i placed a gold star.)

i believe in this.

we were laughing as the sun precariously melted itself into the horizon. between us, the smoke rose and settled and gawked at our insecurities. it danced between our fingers and played sweet melodies in our hollowed mouths. and for the first time, none of us cared.


i wonder: if this is what life is all about, then why are these moments so few and far between?




we are lost in this moment of complete simplicity which is so complex we've nothing to go on.

yeah, so i do.

i like this. the way things are going.

and i love the feeling of being bundled up in my car with a medium coke (thanks, mcdonalds), an old sonic peppermint, a good friend (hawkins), my favorite blanket, and the beautiful lyrical assemblies that trip and fall from my speakers.

it's nights like this where i wonder why i'd ever want my life to be any different.

your face is like the sun sinking into the ocean

i have nothing here to offer you.

under these sheets lie my insecurities
snuggled up comfortably in warmth.
these soft bass lines trail across their lips
traveling indestructibly through your ears
here is your lullaby, dangerous to hear
silent as it may be

i write my heart out in song lyrics
pouring over the musical notes
plagiarism in its finest:
pulling words from talented musicians.
with you, my only plagiarism
comes from the sweet graces of the dictionary
and the world's cliche phrases.

i struggle for these words.
for the syntax and the coherence
to explain to you these feelings,
but i have an insane notion
that even in it's sloppy state
you understand better than i do

and still...
i'm sorry that i have nothing to offer you.
i have nothing to offer you. and nothing,
my love, is just a metaphor for the one thing
that i am hesitant to give away.

(and i'll hope you accept it.
it beats and it bleeds.)

hey, remember that time i would only smoke parliaments?

i love the absolute wonder of the small, unspoken pleasures that life throws at us. the feeling of a hot cup of tea against the palm of my hand that sends warmth straight through my body. the soft whispers of a small gathering of people, huddled inside a restaurant, bouncing precariously off the mural-filled walls. the image of soft flames, flickering in reflection against the shiny red leather of the booth in front of me. the feeling of the rough pages of a heavy book and the way it sounds when my fingers grasp the pages. the smell of a mixture of musk, perfume, food, drinks combining together and creating something entirely it's own.

i wonder why i often don't notice these things. the small detailed stitches and the curious patterns. so wrapped up in appearances, words, other's thoughts that i forget my own small pleasures. the ones that reside here, between the ripped edges of a baby's blanket and the wave of wind across the monkey grass.

makes me laugh, really. to know that we worry so much about these "big" ideas and these "big" things and feelings and emotions when, in reality, the bigger emotion could be in the smallest of details.


(i have been listening to the thumbsucker soundtrack all night. originally supposed to be a project of elliott smith, but due to his passing, was taken over by the polyphonic spree. i've always loved the movie, but the soundtrack just solidifies the love. even if you haven't seen the movie you must pick up the soundtrack. currently on my list of "listening now":

- friend and foe: menomena
- the throne of the third heaven of the nation's millennium general assembly: le loup
- wincing the night away: the shins (of course)
- (): sigur ros (thanks, brent)
- if songs could be held: rosie thomas
- everything all the time: band of horses
- don't fall in love with everyone you see: okkervil river (my favorite song is "red". fantastic song.)
- illinoise - sufjan stevens (of course, again)
- the thumbsucker soundtrack
- the i'm not there soundtrack (sonic youth, cat power, sufjan, calexico, yo la tengo)
- feast of wire: calexico
- achilles heel: pedro the lion
- dilate, not a pretty girl, out of range: ani difranco.

all are amazing to fall asleep to.

)