and realized that all of her things didn't mean anything to her.
all her things were nothing, shadows of memories of things that meant something to her.
i have ceased to do anything meaningful in who know how long.
my hair my or may not be infested with bugs from texas that aren't helping to pay the rent.
some fucking body thinks that they love me,
but the motherfucker can't hold a candle to the vibrating darkness in my heart.
my dentist wants to charge me 4000 dollars to salvage the wreckage of my teeth, which were never problematic until now.
i cried in the office and immediately became tense and strikingly aware.
there is always something to scratch, and some terrible piece of poetry to be written.
abbey road doesn't sound so good on repeat when it isn't on the way to somewhere else.
and i still can't figure out how to tell him i love him, because he won't let me.
Friday
the missing
i haven't updated in a long time.
this, being the more private of my musings, has been neglected since that amazing trip to boston that altered the course of my life. and don't you wonder what would happen if even one little thing changed in your life?
everything is always so cryptic when you give it a quick overview. i would love to dedicate more and more and more to everything, to tell you about my poetry and dreams and lust and love and dancing and necklaces and cady hearts.
but i fear i'm almost out of borrowed time.
this, being the more private of my musings, has been neglected since that amazing trip to boston that altered the course of my life. and don't you wonder what would happen if even one little thing changed in your life?
everything is always so cryptic when you give it a quick overview. i would love to dedicate more and more and more to everything, to tell you about my poetry and dreams and lust and love and dancing and necklaces and cady hearts.
but i fear i'm almost out of borrowed time.
Thursday
get down in beantown
saw saul williams last night. it was amazing, we were on stage with him, meager feet away. he moved and glisened under hot purple red stagelights. we moved in unison to the beats of some primal noise from inside. it was too much nearly, almost too much.
at the show, we crawled on stage and touched palms and thought profound thoughs. or maybe i did solitarily. a million (alright, maybe fifty-two) lost identities paused for one moment and breathing in (breathe in).
i guess i'm just reminding you to breathe in.
at the show, we crawled on stage and touched palms and thought profound thoughs. or maybe i did solitarily. a million (alright, maybe fifty-two) lost identities paused for one moment and breathing in (breathe in).
i guess i'm just reminding you to breathe in.
Saturday
watched it sink to the bottom
had to fish it out with my fingers
and instantly, without thought
toss it into my mouth.
progressively getting more and more
busy
or trying to pretend i am.
i might go back to school,
it gives me something to do when i'm bored.
giving a fine demonstration
of mediocre skills.
what will you do
when your favorite thing is no more,
all your thoughts are broken
and you lie sitting on the floor?
had to fish it out with my fingers
and instantly, without thought
toss it into my mouth.
progressively getting more and more
busy
or trying to pretend i am.
i might go back to school,
it gives me something to do when i'm bored.
giving a fine demonstration
of mediocre skills.
what will you do
when your favorite thing is no more,
all your thoughts are broken
and you lie sitting on the floor?
Friday
tomatoes
today i made a sandwich in the kitchen while my family was gone. egg salad. sliced hard-boiled eggs, lettuce, and cheese on toast. i also added a few tomato slices.
before i cut it, i had to take it out of the produce bag.
i paused, thought of how it felt. i squeezed the sides gently. they responded with a little give, not too much. unwrapping it, i thought of how my grandmother used to serve gigantic slices of juicy red tomoatoes when my grandfather grilled. i would eat as may of them as i could before my tastebuds began to burn. when i couldn't stand it anymore, i'd move on to pickles dipped in ketchup on a bun.
the slicing of the tomato brought me to a more recent memory of watching dan make his sandwich before work. always the same procedure. toasted bread spreas thinly with mayonnaise, then topped with chunked tuna (about half a can, seasoned with basil and some other italian spices), slivers of red onion, lettuce, tomato, and a slice of american cheese. he always crafted them with precision, bending down a little so he could get a better view of his work. finally, he'd lay the second slice on top of the sandwich, pressing it down gently to cement the pieces together with his wide palm. i could hear the toast crumble beneath the pressure. generally then, he'd lick the knife clean, and cut the sandwich in half diagonally. then he'd step back and just for a moment look at the plate, as if in his own mind he were saying, now that's a sandwich.
i put away my lettuce, cheese, and tomatoes, thinking about the way things constantly change. my grandmother has alzheimer's now, and can hardly recognize my face, let alone recall the little things she did to make me happy. there has been no macaroni, no chocolate pie with whipped cream for a long time now. i don't know that there ever will be again. as for dan, he'll continue making his sandwiches just the same. only now, he'll be the only one appreciating his consistency. i will be somewhere else, in another kitchen, wondering what will happen next.
before i cut it, i had to take it out of the produce bag.
i paused, thought of how it felt. i squeezed the sides gently. they responded with a little give, not too much. unwrapping it, i thought of how my grandmother used to serve gigantic slices of juicy red tomoatoes when my grandfather grilled. i would eat as may of them as i could before my tastebuds began to burn. when i couldn't stand it anymore, i'd move on to pickles dipped in ketchup on a bun.
the slicing of the tomato brought me to a more recent memory of watching dan make his sandwich before work. always the same procedure. toasted bread spreas thinly with mayonnaise, then topped with chunked tuna (about half a can, seasoned with basil and some other italian spices), slivers of red onion, lettuce, tomato, and a slice of american cheese. he always crafted them with precision, bending down a little so he could get a better view of his work. finally, he'd lay the second slice on top of the sandwich, pressing it down gently to cement the pieces together with his wide palm. i could hear the toast crumble beneath the pressure. generally then, he'd lick the knife clean, and cut the sandwich in half diagonally. then he'd step back and just for a moment look at the plate, as if in his own mind he were saying, now that's a sandwich.
i put away my lettuce, cheese, and tomatoes, thinking about the way things constantly change. my grandmother has alzheimer's now, and can hardly recognize my face, let alone recall the little things she did to make me happy. there has been no macaroni, no chocolate pie with whipped cream for a long time now. i don't know that there ever will be again. as for dan, he'll continue making his sandwiches just the same. only now, he'll be the only one appreciating his consistency. i will be somewhere else, in another kitchen, wondering what will happen next.
Wednesday
what you see as
unhealthy attention?
(forgive me,
i thought i was
showing you affection.)
then i suppose
the inconvenience of
emotionally preparing yourself
is a thing of the past.
looking back,
maybe i was foolish
to think that
you would be different.
the only words of mine you've seen
are ones
grieving our separation.
why couldn't you save
both of us this trouble?
pardon my ignorance.
unhealthy attention?
(forgive me,
i thought i was
showing you affection.)
then i suppose
the inconvenience of
emotionally preparing yourself
is a thing of the past.
looking back,
maybe i was foolish
to think that
you would be different.
the only words of mine you've seen
are ones
grieving our separation.
why couldn't you save
both of us this trouble?
pardon my ignorance.
you kiss your mother with that mouth?
pinkgirlrock (12:33:45 PM): what else is new?
pinkgirlrock (12:33:58 PM): did anything more come of your little "tango" with argentina
ferneilius (12:34:09 PM): not really
ferneilius (12:34:13 PM): as i wanted
pinkgirlrock (12:34:46 PM): sorry kiddo
ferneilius (12:34:55 PM): no
pinkgirlrock (12:34:57 PM): that was good
ferneilius (12:35:00 PM): i mean i wanted none of that
ferneilius (12:35:03 PM): just the making out
ferneilius (12:36:19 PM): and it was good
ferneilius (12:37:17 PM): except the bastard stole my money from my back pocket
ferneilius (12:37:35 PM): he gave it back, but he claims that he does itto everyone he makes out with
pinkgirlrock (12:38:04 PM): it owuld have been funny if he hadn't given it back
pinkgirlrock (12:38:16 PM): that's a really funny thing to me
ferneilius (12:38:19 PM): i would have killed him
pinkgirlrock (12:38:45 PM): you probably assumed he was just feeling you up or somethin
ferneilius (12:39:09 PM): i dnt remember his hand evr being in my back pocket
pinkgirlrock (12:39:14 PM): if i looked like him, i'd rob girls all the time while making out with them
ferneilius (12:39:14 PM): i was pretty for gone
pinkgirlrock (12:39:31 PM): it's a brilliant strategy
pinkgirlrock (12:39:42 PM): it would make for a really funny bad movie
ferneilius (12:39:51 PM): haha
ferneilius (12:39:54 PM): yes it would
pinkgirlrock (12:39:57 PM): like catherine zeta jones vs. jude law
ferneilius (12:40:46 PM): tha would be actually ilarious
pinkgirlrock (12:41:06 PM): i know
pinkgirlrock (12:41:50 PM): like jude law is a new york hustler who kisses girls and while he's feeling them up, steals their wallets. well, when he does that to her, she's in the middle of doing the same
pinkgirlrock (12:42:27 PM): they would get into some really funny arguement, and then somehow get stuck together in som precarious situation
pinkgirlrock (12:42:59 PM): and end up falling in love and hving little pick pocket babies
pinkgirlrock (12:33:58 PM): did anything more come of your little "tango" with argentina
ferneilius (12:34:09 PM): not really
ferneilius (12:34:13 PM): as i wanted
pinkgirlrock (12:34:46 PM): sorry kiddo
ferneilius (12:34:55 PM): no
pinkgirlrock (12:34:57 PM): that was good
ferneilius (12:35:00 PM): i mean i wanted none of that
ferneilius (12:35:03 PM): just the making out
ferneilius (12:36:19 PM): and it was good
ferneilius (12:37:17 PM): except the bastard stole my money from my back pocket
ferneilius (12:37:35 PM): he gave it back, but he claims that he does itto everyone he makes out with
pinkgirlrock (12:38:04 PM): it owuld have been funny if he hadn't given it back
pinkgirlrock (12:38:16 PM): that's a really funny thing to me
ferneilius (12:38:19 PM): i would have killed him
pinkgirlrock (12:38:45 PM): you probably assumed he was just feeling you up or somethin
ferneilius (12:39:09 PM): i dnt remember his hand evr being in my back pocket
pinkgirlrock (12:39:14 PM): if i looked like him, i'd rob girls all the time while making out with them
ferneilius (12:39:14 PM): i was pretty for gone
pinkgirlrock (12:39:31 PM): it's a brilliant strategy
pinkgirlrock (12:39:42 PM): it would make for a really funny bad movie
ferneilius (12:39:51 PM): haha
ferneilius (12:39:54 PM): yes it would
pinkgirlrock (12:39:57 PM): like catherine zeta jones vs. jude law
ferneilius (12:40:46 PM): tha would be actually ilarious
pinkgirlrock (12:41:06 PM): i know
pinkgirlrock (12:41:50 PM): like jude law is a new york hustler who kisses girls and while he's feeling them up, steals their wallets. well, when he does that to her, she's in the middle of doing the same
pinkgirlrock (12:42:27 PM): they would get into some really funny arguement, and then somehow get stuck together in som precarious situation
pinkgirlrock (12:42:59 PM): and end up falling in love and hving little pick pocket babies
tired of being the subject of the whispers at the kitchen table
tired of being unwelcome in a home i've never really fit into in the first place,
tired of looking into your eyes and seeing nothing but a rough glint where the happiness used to be.
tired of trying to convince you that i matter too.
i am eternally greatful that my little brother shows me his love. he is amazing, and i appreciate him so much more now that i have ever told him. he is a great person, and i love him very much.
tired of looking into your eyes and seeing nothing but a rough glint where the happiness used to be.
tired of trying to convince you that i matter too.
i am eternally greatful that my little brother shows me his love. he is amazing, and i appreciate him so much more now that i have ever told him. he is a great person, and i love him very much.
Tuesday
too tired to sleep
cold eggs no bed
i can/not get
away from everything
(not even when i sleep)
and
i am so v e r y TIRED
( allofthetimenow)
but too pressed for the sleeping action
of it all.
i miss dan every day, even when i get to see him. for the first time, i'm actually willing to wait instead of rushing. i love his voice, his touch, everything. i never feel so amazing as when i'm with him. we can be together without having to be together. i only wish i could be closer without being a problem.
(love him to the skin)
i hope this job thing works itself out. my stomach is tying itself in tired knots. i thought it was hungry, but it's just tired. it's hard to sleep on constant wave of couch after couch with no way of escaping the cycle, nothing to look forward to. sometimes i fall asleep in bed with dan and lose myself completely in ecstacy, drunk on the closeness of the thing, and of sleeping in a actual bed (shitty bed or no, it's better than the couches i've been sleeping on.)
i keep swishing i had an apartment, keep thinking about sneaking back to my mom's house and sleeping in all the beds in the house, even though i know i'm specifically forbidden to do so. who would say a thing like that to their own kid? it amazes me every time.
my eyes are so dry, they're soing that glassy blinking thing. i want to be free from all this chaos. i can't sleep ever, because people always hold you hostage, whether they intend to or not. i have a delicate sleep cycle. i miss being alone, with the option of company. i wish that we could do that. the two of us get along swimmingly enough. i'd want my own room as it all stands now, but he is worried about what his parents think. i don't want to rush him into anything, i just wish i could live with someone who doesn't drive me up the wall every time something doesn't go their way, or someone who isn't obsessed with cats and doesn't smoke. my lungs are dry as asbestos.
i'm so tired of being tired.
i can/not get
away from everything
(not even when i sleep)
and
i am so v e r y TIRED
( allofthetimenow)
but too pressed for the sleeping action
of it all.
i miss dan every day, even when i get to see him. for the first time, i'm actually willing to wait instead of rushing. i love his voice, his touch, everything. i never feel so amazing as when i'm with him. we can be together without having to be together. i only wish i could be closer without being a problem.
(love him to the skin)
i hope this job thing works itself out. my stomach is tying itself in tired knots. i thought it was hungry, but it's just tired. it's hard to sleep on constant wave of couch after couch with no way of escaping the cycle, nothing to look forward to. sometimes i fall asleep in bed with dan and lose myself completely in ecstacy, drunk on the closeness of the thing, and of sleeping in a actual bed (shitty bed or no, it's better than the couches i've been sleeping on.)
i keep swishing i had an apartment, keep thinking about sneaking back to my mom's house and sleeping in all the beds in the house, even though i know i'm specifically forbidden to do so. who would say a thing like that to their own kid? it amazes me every time.
my eyes are so dry, they're soing that glassy blinking thing. i want to be free from all this chaos. i can't sleep ever, because people always hold you hostage, whether they intend to or not. i have a delicate sleep cycle. i miss being alone, with the option of company. i wish that we could do that. the two of us get along swimmingly enough. i'd want my own room as it all stands now, but he is worried about what his parents think. i don't want to rush him into anything, i just wish i could live with someone who doesn't drive me up the wall every time something doesn't go their way, or someone who isn't obsessed with cats and doesn't smoke. my lungs are dry as asbestos.
i'm so tired of being tired.
Friday
you who are always falling asleep,
never awake (never there)
when i need you.
it is always worse
to cry in secret,
letting people assume
that everything is perfectly normal.
and nothig is the way it should be,
everytime someone can dare to make a wish
it is uprooted
and broken before them
like a dead little bonsai.
we are the dead trees
and there is nothing ahead of us
but 6 more weeks of winter.
never awake (never there)
when i need you.
it is always worse
to cry in secret,
letting people assume
that everything is perfectly normal.
and nothig is the way it should be,
everytime someone can dare to make a wish
it is uprooted
and broken before them
like a dead little bonsai.
we are the dead trees
and there is nothing ahead of us
but 6 more weeks of winter.
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