| (no subject) |
[Jul. 9th, 2009|11:12 am] |
The psychic was right.
About so many things.
Holy shit, the psychic was right. |
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| stay with me for a while (that's an awfully real gun) |
[Jun. 24th, 2009|06:08 pm] |
How ridiculous for him to come over, twinkle and smile at me, jump out of the shower, say ready for bed and I nod oh boy yes, and scramble under the covers where he exhales a huge sigh of relief and gathers me into his arms. How ridiculous for him to run his fingers through my hair, to trace the outlines of my hands, to softly touch the thinly shielded small of my back as I'm curled into him, and then slowly say that he thinks we should just be friends. Be friends. In my queen size bed, friends. And I laugh and say, "What?" and he says what's happening between us isn't fair to me. Fair to me? Since when are you my bodyguard? And I scoot a foot away from him on the bed and stare out of the window long after he's fallen asleep. He sleeps facing me. We wake up, he gets ready for work. We walk around my apartment in our underwear, laughing and cracking jokes and sparkling all over the place at each other, huddled in my kitchen laughing, looking through my old polaroids. All those old people I used to be. Him putting on one of my shirts, hugging me goodbye, and riding his bike off to work. No kiss. We're just friends. I fall into the peacock chair in the corner of the room, next to the bed dressed in cold sheets. I stared out of the window.
And what's even more ridiculous is an hour later, as I'm leaving my apartment with my bike key in hand and my helmet firmly on my head, chin strap fastened. The front door is closed for repairs so I take the back stairs, and rounding the corner on the unpaved back alley, the gravel under my boot loses its footing and boom. A dropped bag of groceries. Motionless, crumpled, bloody, helmet on. The painter high on a ladder above me yells, "You alright?" I pick up a bloody elbow and dust the rocks out of the dripping cuts, howled, "Fuuuuuuck." And that's when I really started crying. I hadn't cried yet, and there, absolutely pathetic in my stupid white helmet on the gravel I cry. I dejectedly pick myself up. I shuffle along to my bike locked up on the sidewalk. I sniffle a little more. It's my turn to be pathetic. I let the wind on the bicycle dry the blood on my arms. How ridiculous. |
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| lake cushman, sunday june 14 |
[Jun. 18th, 2009|12:22 am] |
I took off my skirt and my shirt and followed him into the water. I've always been terrified of natural bodies of water, but a year to the date of her getting stuck down there I had to see what it was she loved so much. No one was on the lake, just us and a little family a half mile away. The water was clear emeraldy-blue sinking into dark dark dark and colder than cold (what's that, outkast?!) and it made all my nerves ache as it crept up into the soft, sensitive bits of skin that try hard to stay warm, my inner thighs, my underarms, the soft flesh underneath my breasts. I laughed hysterically. He smiled wildly at me and dove in. I followed.
It was perfect under there.
I crawled back out and laid next to him on the hot, flat rocks. I stared up the sky and breathed heavily. It was fantastic.
 |
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| wrecking the airline barrier |
[Apr. 29th, 2009|05:15 pm] |
I'm so excited
I'm so excited
I'm so excited
I'm so excited
I'm so excited
I'm so excited
oh my god
oh my god
oh my god
yes
yes
yes
yes
yes
let the lies begin! |
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| I used to be sort of blind. |
[Apr. 23rd, 2009|07:41 am] |
The anniversary is coming up in two months, and there's this little part of me that still believes it will happen with fireworks, like some sort of Messianic second coming. We won't have to deal with it anymore, we'll be shaken awake. She'll come back. We'll be home.
I know it's not going to happen, but then I can see the vision of it, and -- |
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| the rush of everything passing and I |
[Apr. 22nd, 2009|10:17 am] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | yawny at the apocalypse | ] |
All these moments kind of get strung together, like my life is some big fabric and eyelets are being punched through certain points, and a thread is strung through each of them, pulling them all together. Aching, overwhelming nostalgia, for then, for me, for now, for what's going to happen. And when I'm in this particular moment it's just the same as two years ago, four years ago, and probably, a similar moment in years when I'm laying in my bed, feeling like I'm flying, begging for it to stop but hoping it won't. I guess we'll see. I'm hungry. |
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| they make a noise like ashes |
[Apr. 17th, 2009|04:59 pm] |
He asked me what caused this ruckus, this huge shift in my life. I thought about it and realized it was simple: Samuel Beckett.
Sam, you blessed scoundrel! I guess I have you to thank in the next life, if there is one, and if we're in the same location. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 15th, 2009|11:53 pm] |
oh my god, it has to happen.
I have to go. And start over again.
Getting a music degree from Seattle University? In what universe did I possibly think that was a good idea?
So where am I going?
And why am I going?
And with what possible hope?
I can't believe that I forgot about myself.
Here goes, fellas! |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 26th, 2009|02:50 am] |
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Hello body, I live here. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 13th, 2009|11:52 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  intimidated | ] |
Additionally, I'm contemplating moving on. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 9th, 2009|04:49 am] |
This is intense and it makes me feel awesome (which may just be the sleep deprivation - who cares!):
I am almost done with a research paper that would have taken me three months in high school to complete (remember Yacono's class?). The entire process - research, outlining, and writing the paper - took me one day. Granted, it's a stupid day, like from 3 this afternoon to 5 in the morning, but you know what, I rule.
And now, to edit and furiously rework while I wait to watch the sunrise from the library windows, and do yoga in the abandoned rooms to keep my blood flowing to my brain... |
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| note to self |
[Feb. 20th, 2009|11:54 pm] |
When I have a child, I need to remember these things:
1. Piano lessons starting at age three or four
2. Harp lessons in addition starting at age seven or so
3. If they promise to eat their dinner, they're allowed to have dessert (a little bit) first - but only one time to compensate for that time I promised myself I'd let my kids do that when I was a kid.
4. Make sure to incrementally give them my favorite music for birthdays/Christmas/random presents over the years.
5. And, crap, everything else. |
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| me love arrested development long time |
[Jan. 18th, 2009|05:53 pm] |
Whoever regards the Bible as written by a God-hand needs to get down on one knee and starting singing praises to Arrested Development.
That's all.
 |
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| poem from lolita, by nabakov |
[Jan. 14th, 2009|12:17 am] |
Even though this poem is written from the perspective of a crazed older man in love with a pre-teen, there's something that I haven't been able to shake about it. Simple rhyme scheme, loping meter, but staunchly haunting. Parts of it play in my head constantly, and so I think I'll share it.
"Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze
Hair: brown. Lips: scarlet.
Age: five thousand three hundred days.
Profession: none, or "starlet."
Where are you hiding, Dolores Haze?
Why are you hiding, darling?
(I talk in a daze, I walk in a maze,
I cannot get out, said the starling).
Where are you riding, Dolores Haze?
What make is the magic carpet?
Is a Cream Cougar the present craze?
And where are you parked, my car pet?
Who is your hero, Dolores Haze?
Still one of those blue-caped star-men?
Oh the balmy days and the palmy bays,
And the cars, and the bars, my Carmen!
Oh Dolores, that juke-box hurts!
Are you still dancin' darlin'?
(Both in worn levis, both in torn T-shirts,
And I, in my corner, snarlin').
Happy, happy is gnarled McFate
Touring the States with a child wife,
Plowing his Molly in every State
Among the protected wild life.
My Dolly, my folly! Her eyes were vair,
And never closed when I kissed her.
Know an old perfume called Soleil Vert?
Are you from Paris, mister?
L'autre soir un air froid d'opera m'alita;
Son fele -- bien fol est qui s'y fie!
Il neige, le decor s'ecroule, Lolita!
Lolita, qu'ai-je fait de ta vie?
Dying, dying, Lolita Haze,
Of hate and remorse, I'm dying.
And again my hairy fist I raise,
And again I hear you crying.
Officer, officer, there they go--
In the rain, where that lighted store is!
And her socks and white, and I love her so,
And her name is Haze, Dolores.
Officer, officer, there they are--
Dolores Haze and her lover!
Whip out your gun and follow that car.
Now tumble out, and take cover.
Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze.
Her dream-gray gaze never flinches.
Ninety pounds is all she weighs
With a height of sixty inches.
My car is limping, Dolores Haze,
And the last long lap is the hardest
And I shall be dumped where the weed decays,
And the rest is rust and stardust." |
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| III |
[Jan. 11th, 2009|04:32 pm] |
Underneath the dye, even my hair has turned gray:
It has been weeks since I have seen the sun.
all hail winter.
 |
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| if I were king of the forest.. gee, thanks, planet earth. |
[Jan. 9th, 2009|11:33 pm] |
As we embark on this new year, I'd like to remind everyone - the water is not a place for humans. Swim in the shallow end, and dear god, be careful in the ocean. And absolutely no scuba diving of any kind.
Thanks much.
ac |
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| salut |
[Jan. 8th, 2009|12:02 am] |
Time to curl into a little ball and wait for scar tissue to grow:
all hail winter. |
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| my dearest friends |
[Dec. 30th, 2008|07:09 pm] |
What a year. Shall I itemize? (Links go to pictures or otherwise)
1. Moved to a new city from a foreign country by myself
2. Had my first apartment where my name is on the lease and bills (the other two I lived in in high school were just sublet rooms)
3. Started at a new school, that I picked, without my parents ever having seen it
4. Got a 3.9 GPA, take that, college. But only for one quarter.
5. Declared my major, twice
6. Adopted a cat from a shelter
7. Got a good job, where I make between $10-40 an hour, with good hours
8. One of my closest friends died in a freak cave diving accident
9. My grandfather died
10. My Seattle mom/landlady was killed by a drunk driver in rush hour traffic
11. My biggest relationship ended, and went through months of turmoil and drama
12. My ex and I were able to become friends again
13. I paid all my bills on time (meaning, no utilities shut off)
14. I went around the Olympic peninsula, Canada (misguidedly, on a whim), the Cascade mountains, the Pacific ocean, Enumclaw and other little towns, Mount Rainier, Portland, Anacortes, Rosario Beach, and lots of little towns on the way. Got trapped by dogs in Tahola, a tiny Indian reservation town, and dogs surrounding my car made it impossible to move.
15. Had a fling with my high school boyfriend, which ended poorly, and it's my fault
16. Got really into historical early Christianity and New Testament studies
17. Recorded my first rap song
18. Had a fake ID, became a regular at a couple awesome bars, had my fake ID taken at a music venue.
19. Became officially an unteenager
20. Got in my first major car accident and the car was totaled (definitely not my fault), and received a large sum of pain-compensation-money.
21. Went camping on the beach near Port Aransas, swam in the ocean under a full moon, and watched a giant storm come in over the ocean, after my best friend's ocean burial. We scattered her ashes off in the Gulf of Mexico and cool stuff happened
22. Two gangs moved into my neighborhood and started a mini-turf war
23. I started volunteering in the infant room at Childhaven
24. Learned to be alone, and realized I am a much quieter person than I thought I was
Let 'er rip
ac
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