December 2011
37 posts
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I’m surrounding myself with an amazing life filled with everything I love and all the incredible, awesome, and amazing things I can imagine.
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Runaway Rae
She sat in the wind, looking over the edge within a trailer that stood on the side of a hill next to grazing goats. It tickled her, cold and shifting in the fierce haze of late morning over the pasture. Purple set over pale green stalks of hay and weeds, grass and mire.
Their yelling woke her. So, picking up her puffy coat with wool patches all over the front, she stepped out the back...
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Bluebird by Charles Bukowski
there’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I’m too tough for him, I say, stay in there, I’m not going to let anybody see you. there’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I pour whiskey on him and inhale cigarette smoke and the whores and the bartenders and the grocery clerks never know that he’s in there. there’s a bluebird in my...
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New Year? What New Year?
One of those days I can spend hours staring at a wall, listening to music and thinking.
In truth, I’ve never been so highly aware of the new year. Most of which, I’m avoiding the talk of it, or cringing when people talk about it. Not New Year’s Eve, certainly, I’ve got a myriad of plans. That’s not a problem.
No, the real trouble comes from my mentality of it all,...
Kindle
Both the nemesis and hero of books. Thoughts?
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"pao de queijo"
The Amazon. A mix of two rivers that clash together—dark black and muddy brown, rushing up against buildings and huts, stilted one room constructs and walls that hid a city nearby. One thing you don’t hear about is the variety of color that hits you from the land, that the people there paint everything to be seen and viewed so as to give a passing boat more chance to glance over...
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Note to all:
Telling someone that they’re the “coolest boy/girl you know” is flattering, but affection should be based on personality, not SOCIAL STANDING.
(Unless meant in the way that your personality is just absolutely awesome, then that would be great BUT seldom does this comment mean anything more than the essence of being “cool” which really is only a bullshit societal...
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That time in the season when...
it’s too cold to go outside and hang out for a long period of time in the gazebo but not cold enough for a solid reason as to why you don’t brave the chill anyway.
Really, it’s like 55 degrees. Get it together, body.
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I’m afraid of apathy, but also delightfully consumed by its power. It’s that easy motion, to just give into the moments and move along with the wave instead of kicking and fighting everything like there’s hope in surviving.
There are things you can plan and things you can prevent, but the most important ones happen unexpectedly. A friend might say something to provoke you, get...
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So I have 30 in my drafts section. I posted an old one today, but it was hard to wrap myself around. The emotions and memories feel too far placed to allow me a place to stand within the text, and I wind up disliking every word I wrote. I had to delete it, keep it on my laptop for sentiment’s sake, but there wasn’t any level of satisfaction involved that accompanies a good amount of...
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They really need to print this on the label...
Apparently the medicine I take manages to extremely increase the effects of alcohol.
Wish I could explain that to the people I pointed at on the street and yelled, “You’re missing out! You are all missing out! Shannon’s boobs are amazing!”
…as I had one hand on her boob.
Really? A couple of beers and I’m grabbing my friend’s tit and defending her...
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Furr - Blitzen Trapper
An old favorite of mine. I...
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Do a Barrel Roll!
Tried to do a yoga pose: head on ground, palms face down either side, knees bent to settle onto elbows sticking up, back curved in onto itself.
I remember a conversation I had with a roommate, starting with her strange urges that randomly appear throughout the day. When she’s drunk, she’ll tell you that she really feels like giving you a taste of her “special...
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barretta replied to your post: Even as my vision clouds in the startling shape..
This is very much to my liking. I wonder if you’ve ever written in meter? Recently if I write poetry—rare I admit—I enjoy blank verse. Iambic pentameter forces me into making interesting structural choices.
I’ve never written in meter, in any conscious frame of mind, besides silly exercises in high school....
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HEY GUESS WHAT
I’m supposed to be writing and studying, but I’ve got a migraine and I’m hopelessly thinking about someone I shouldn’t.
Fuck me.
Funnily enough, that’s meant to be an exasperated expression but it doesn’t equate very well in text.
I think I’ve started about two poems and a story today. Now if only I’d write about Nature or something to include...
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Don't you love it...
when you wake up the next day and realize, well,
HELL I don’t really give a fuck.
Like sleep managed to drift away
the crazies and the rising sun
reminded you of each passing minute’s
brevity, where once hurt filled your chest’s cavity
air lifts through to pass into your veins
and energy awakens—tingling on fingertip
and lips, you’d almost imagine
the...
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Blue Lights Play on My Lids
Whenever I see him, I want to gouge out my eyes. It’s a film flicker I want to cut out from my brain and incinerate. Every time I see him, he’s surrounded by people disguised as my friends, whom quickly shove all blame away from their crying eyes, further placing each tear onto my shoulders as if the sky doesn’t already rest heavily across them. All that my ears receive are...
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Drinking Trader Joe's brand V8 juice from a...
What now, bitches?
A lack of sleep makes the smallest details seem hilarious. Hold on, still snickering…
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Dear Me Minus Five Years,
If I had a tube system like at the bank to send a letter to the past…
Hey there sixteen year old me, almost seventeen (about four months which always made a difference to you for some odd reason). This is right about when you start feeling it, when you start sleeping all day. This is when everyone lets you down, most of all yourself. Now you’ll only give yourself a really hard time,...
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What am I supposed to do? Forgive you?
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Finals week
Paragraphs long
You know I’m the easiest to talk to,
pity strikes me and drives my fingers to respond.
You know that once I offer friendship
it’s a bond I can’t release, a loyalty
I live and emotionally die for, a sisterhood
I can’t revoke.
You use that to your advantage,
sucking every inch of possibility dry:
because I always...
When I was younger, I went to a couple of different theater and art camps over the summers. One was just a mish-mash day camp, and for the closing ceremony, we performed a tribute to Shel Silverstein. I only really knew him as the guy that wrote The Giving Tree. Really, I found more enjoyment from getting to dress up as a lopsided cardboard tree, complete with fake apples in my hands and saying a...
This is what I'm doing instead of writing a paper
I barely tolerated the heat. The room, light and airy, failed to cool my baking skin with a tiny fan whirring slowly in its corner. The door to a terrace remained open. I felt that I could jump over the iron grating to a soft magic carpet waiting, Prince Ali Baba reaching for my hand. The memory plays like a dream.
The Italian sun makes no friends. The air felt both sticky and dry, an...
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I’m beginning to remember how it felt, what the reasoning—or lack thereof—took shape as, and that heavy pressing on every which way you couldn’t escape. I wrote something horrible, beautifully horrible. It was so similar to what at one point I truly believed. I gave into the sick self-destruction with ease and gave up. I gave up.
And, as I write this, I’m...
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The Real Surprise
The real surprise wasn’t the extent
of the riddle we’re made to play
or the hard loops, and horse hooves,
that we beat into the clay day to day—
cause at a certain point work is expected,
in fact, directed, blindingly toward us—
little bunny feet frozen as our doe eyes
watch the car slam us side-
ways, scared beyond any recognition.
Nah, it’s easier to sneak up on prey
...
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I want to smack them away,
like flies, asking,
“really, does it look like
I’m interested, fool?”
and they’d notice I’ve hidden
it all away. I left it all
behind a curtain, only
making certain that it’s
in good shape for you…
whole, unbroken.
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The First and Last Best Friend
Her arms bounce up and down, frantically moving as she’s talking. We used to spend hours sliding down staircases in sleeping bags and falling into the waiting cushions enormously piled up below. We’d hit our heads while laughing the pain away. We were slugs, worms, and caterpillars. She picks up the remote to change the channel, explaining that this was all she watched anymore....
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I keep writing and deleting, because all this post keeps turning into is a ridiculous emotion-filled journal entry.
In other news, almost posted the comment “Old man saggy balls” on some girl’s facebook status, but had enough self-restraint not to.
