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Wednesday, January 24th, 2007
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Within this timeframe is the unusual desire to prove something to some floating moving barely visible entity that taunts me. A disappearing vision of myself maybe? Some image of me that fades in and out like a picture on a television screen with wire hanger rabbit ears. Its at this point in my life that I find things coming apart in front of me, not even in a bad or down-trodden way almost like an anatomy text book, the kind with the transparent pages you flip to find one more layer gone. Where are all of my friends, my ambition, the part of me that actually wants to go out or answer the fucking phone, the part of me that didn't doubt the physical or mental need for anything.
I'm oddly happy with the way things have been. So much time to spend with my lovely. It's when she's not near that I get this way. All alone with my thoughts, my head full of ice cubes.
Downstairs there is a globe, and when I forget what the capital of Madagasgar is, or even how to spell said island nation, I look to the little globe that could, the only one in the house that illustrates the soviet union. I spin it ever so often on its squealing cheap brass axis and point my finger at random almost always landing in middle of the ocean. Don't tell me it's because the ocean is so vast. Tell me it's some sort of metaphor, a sign, some bullshit to take the edge off how final things can feel.
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Comments: Read 6 or Add Your Own.
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Sunday, January 7th, 2007
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How like the terrified,
Shy figure of a bride
You stood there then, without your clothes,
Drawn up into
So classic and so strict a pose
Almost, it seemed, our little attic grew
Dark with the first charmed night of the honeymoon.
Or was it only some obscure
Shape of my mother's youth I saw in you,
There where the rude shadows of the afternoon
Crept up your ankles and you stood
Hiding your sex as best you could?—
Prim ghost the evening light shone through.
(from "Ode to a Dressmaker's Dummy")
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Comments: Read 4 or Add Your Own.
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Saturday, December 9th, 2006
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Thursday, November 30th, 2006
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| Time: | 8:34 pm. |
| Mood: |  lonely. |
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I wish I was the moon tonight
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Comments: Read 5 or Add Your Own.
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Sunday, November 26th, 2006
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"The mummied dead everywhere. The flesh cloven along the bones, the
ligaments dried to tug and taut as wires. Shriveled and drawn like
latterday bogfolk, their faces of boiled sheeting, the yellowed palings of
their teeth. They were discarded to a man like pilgrims of some common
order for all their shoes were long stolen."
-- Cormac McCarthy, "The Road"
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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Sunday, October 22nd, 2006
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Tuesday, October 17th, 2006
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overnight armies grew on the corners. There was a smell then. Little black beetles blocking the way to brooklyn, watching their bridge. And a girl, I remember, walking confused, almost stoned seeming, with nothing but dust and sand covering her skin.
And even months later my skepticism came to town and loves heartsick guard dog stood behind us as he inhaled ash and cried at the shirts and signs hanging on the fences built around the church.
everyone talks like they're coming down in New Jersey,fascist dancing, "It's a twitching and desperation: the City's sadder cousin." With an evil combover and mice in her chest she covered it all in snow and let a giant concrete rabbit fill her pockets with posies.
Jesus didn't come to free us from pain. he came to give us the strength to bear it. thank your lucky stars i'm agnostic and so willing to manifest your most hateful wishes. I've been thinking a lot about 21 Grams lately. I think it's a truly brilliant movie. There's something so pure and real about true and utter heartbreak that so related to true and utter love, even if the heartbreak isn't closely related to love. I don't think you can ever be sad without some form of love being disapointed.
There's something so utterly beautiful and self-destructive in love, and in Watts' character when she says "whoever looks for the truth deserves punishment for finding it."
The allure of mass exsistence alludes me, still, beating like a heart, one at a time. But its the general solid nature of things that confuses me most, the concrete this and that of every day phrases picked by men to be paramount to everything else. I have loved. past tense, have, or to have not, would that have been worse?
I have in common with others other people, six degrees of who and what not.
But I have indeed, loved.
And liked (not more) like branches broken my hands extended to them, and occasionally, sometimes, they accepted.
Words like 'wound' and 'desire' are gratuitous and cliche. i should just ignore them all together and continue to play unabaded as the idiot savant does.
"We think the same things at the same time, we just can't do anything about it."
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Comments: Read 4 or Add Your Own.
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Thursday, October 12th, 2006
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i can blame nicotine for this relentless nausea, for the contortion and twist of every cough and gag bone cold on the filthy porcelain that actually seems to give with the spasms that crack bone in the ribcage, the light blurs as tears cloud the view space. medicine does this, heave burning in this vessel,.Stretched knuckles are pure white with bile expulsion; a paramount loss of grace, there is no sophistication in this, no confidence to bolster the self, just reckless abandon.Rejection for reality, of all the bragging stories of the hard knocks and the harder stuff knocked back. tables don't get turned, they get rotated about so that everyone is playing someone elses hand and when you think you've got the winning cards it's time to change places
Fuck Them.
this is nothing that would fill the mental story rolodex of the eager braggart, perverted relationship between a sick kid and the bathroom flor, between filthy bacteria empowering hydrogen plus two, mixed with yellow glow bathroon lightning wretched stomach bile. not for the faint of heart.
i see them there for hours, evening weekend's playtime fuck-around. Escapism from happy lives perversion that make the bowels rumble, makes the brown sweeter, the witnessing that mixes the blood into your shit and you are a hundred fucking years old. some disease seeking out disease comfort found, black cancer tar leaking out ears and noses finding the one to lick it up, shut up take the poison organ gas station fluid pumped in. overfilled seeping out catching everything it touches on fire. Let the disease swim up into the brain while dick checking becomes a standard practice like every white hot razorblade piss. i never slept in the same bed with a boy, i was awake watching him sleep, thinking of all the ways i could take his teeth
desperation is the purest compassion
Realization ineffectual mouth garbage like money guilt, like pretend poverty, television culture to come here, busloads of high school drama clubs burning alive, charbroiled in their metal ovens, consumption muscle tissue crispy flesh, the lovesick eyes of a con-fucking-fused little girl who thinks she's something special. epiphany that none planned things this way, the great fucking tragedy of the shakespearean existence of the bottom wrung of everything, maybe this time you'll like it, what has destroyed the value and gotten me nowhere, those that would come by choice are manufactured of a great satan evil soulless, unaccountable ingenious inhuman stinking slime trailing filth to be disposed of.
this girl would easily rise and release the vise grip from the porcelain receptacle, only to roll your naked body in broken glass, tear open stomach flesh with eager mouth, and consume the delicacy of raw life machines.
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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Monday, October 9th, 2006
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| Time: | 10:20 pm. |
| Mood: | jealous. |
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I've seen myself doing something, recently, which is rather fucked. I know I've done it longer. I have a very hard time believing in, or trusting, I suppose, love,..Happy relationships just seem unbelievable, in a way. I mean, they're what the best works are made of, in most ways.
It's not only that I need proofs of love from my loved one's to feel comfortable that they're not just amused by me, but that I need prove to them that I love them. be more forgiving, spend more money, cook more often. It's hard to love this way without being resentful in some way, eventually. It's silly to resent another for your own behavior. There's just something so obviously harder about living the same life with another person. I've always been one to hide and live my own life as much as I can. Or rather, to not live my life at all.
It's one thing to know why you do something, and another entirely to know how to not.
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Comments: Read 2 or Add Your Own.
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Monday, September 25th, 2006
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What shame, i've been diddling away my life on myspace.com, especially the music section. i do appreciate being able to change my music practically daily... i don't post things really, but there are tawdry pictures of me there.
Sometimes writing only makes me feel redundant... surely i've felt this before, surely it's been written before, surely i'm only encouraging my own self-indulgent cliche. i must not and can not drag myself back into this abyss, i will not blame you again. there are remedies for this torture, i've met them before, i need only shake the dust a little... except i cannot find them, i didn't think i would need them and never made a map. work work work, i will work every day and make money meaningless. health is a novelty my body hates me.
this room with a computer is called "le business room"... i am up to some exceedingly questionable le business...
home is impossible- i've the house to myself all day and all night..just the dog, the cat and i. quiet, lonely i find myself re-examining the value of everything from objects to interests and i find i don't even have the same interests that i had last week... so much has dissolved...i have literally dissolved. i look different, i am atleast 5 pounds lighter and slightly discolored i have to get to know this person and i'm just not in the mood for it.
i don't know where my faith has been. i know this time is different and that faith just hangs where it is and causes physical pain... unable to do the thing it needs to do... i can't bear optimism, i can't eat or concentrate on mixed drinks...
it's an antique store, cluttered, with the lights out. i'm on the wrong side of this glass tonight. i have a fever and i think i don't want to get better
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Comments: Read 11 or Add Your Own.
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Tuesday, September 5th, 2006
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i think i'm just tired. i'm tired of everything I do feeling like an uphill battle against money, against memory, against my own better judgment. I'm just tired. I'm tired of communication and of the lack of communication. The other night, like a switch was hit, I went into a hibernation of sorts. I don't feel any differently about my life or anything in it, but all I want is to sit in a cool room and read. I'm tired of writing and art. I want to work my crap job and make some money without any plans or stresses for a while. that's a lie
I've a dozen rolls of undeveloped film full of pictures of things that don't exist anymore.
there isn't a metaphor for it in all my encyclopedia of cliche, from Shakespeare to winterson. It's a combination of something pushing down on my stomach and the sudden heaviness when you become aware of your own weight after all the water has drained out of a bath. There's no more buoyancy and I can't inhale.
[contd. from past entries] There was a pompous beating of fists and drums in that dark room: the tenuous connections of youth made solid by circumstance, like boulders about to topple from a cliff, held on only by the dieing roots of a plant, or the awkward jitterbug of running, accidentally, into someoe known in another life. bartops were pounded to a nothing - a heap of sticks so soggy with the well that we sucked dry as we were quiet ...¦ That night marked the beginning of the great rabbit hunt: it was a different night each year, decided on because a song began, like a codeword, and we ran. I was surprised by the weight of the rabbit, it was a meaningful weight, one that should have given pause (can the heaviness of desire, the effort it takes to carry, really predict the future? Does struggle warn that it isn't worth it, or, rather, tell of all the signicance of the reward?) we stood on the roof, in the wind, and watched the hunt all careen and leap around the towers and lights of the city in the distance, shimmering through the trees.
There is so much in love that is a Band-Aid. "Fuck you! 'I love you' just covers up the bleeding" a girl I briefly loved told me once. There is so much we are able to convince ourselves of in the name of love - entire generations have been slaughtered for naught but a four-letter-word. The truth is weight needs to be cared for by the always vigilant, the priest-like, almost. Weight needs to be cared for, like a cancer, or baby, slowly growing. It is so easy for significance to be stillborn, and even then, it is possible to carry that significance around dressed as a baby.
the rabbit hunt was glorious last year. Men and children ran over hills and underneath the brightest blue and golden lights to grasp at a fur-covered comfort. The rabbits, once caught, brightened the towns and played all along the sidewalk, nudged the children awake in the morning, and lovingly rubbed their heads as they tried to sleep at night. Mothers and fathers would tell stories of the rabbit hunt and the song that began it all for years to come without ever needing to exaggerate is golden and warm joy that brought comfort all through the winter until rabbits weren't needed anymore. The summer brought all manner of animals to play and rest, to comfort and love. And once upon a time our captured rabbit turned to stone and was left, fading slowly, under rain and growing moss.
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Comments: Read 5 or Add Your Own.
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Sunday, August 27th, 2006
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i'm a terrible journaler, i so often write only when i have a burden in need of upheaval [bird in need of bolweavel?]- i'm sure i wrote furiously once upon a time, youth is hysteric and i am not ready to give her (youth) up to that soft dark night.
I was napping and I dreamt that I made E in an overly complicated, haphazard contraption. You can bet it was wonderful.i dislike the plane-crash ending that comes of taking pills, they fill me with love for the universe and make love to me sideways in a way i very much like, but leave me real in the end and real cannot compete.
i invite many things into my life i would likely have been too afraid to invite only a short time ago. i am aware of the smallness of our lifetimes and refuse to be old and regretful... wearing old violet lingerie at the public library, i demand children's books...
my hair is so aweful...here's hoping my love will come over and shave my head. I will dye her hair black and tell her all about how much my legs hurt.
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Comments: Read 3 or Add Your Own.
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Thursday, August 24th, 2006
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| Time: | 1:08 pm. |
| Music: | rasputina. |
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INSTRUCTIONS
1. Put your music player on shuffle.
2. Press forward for each question.
3. Use the song title as the answer to the question even if it doesn't make sense. NO CHEATING!
4. Tag 10 people to play this game too.
How are you feeling today?
”my soul”-rasputina
How do your friends see you?
”temper of Poseidon”- Project Pitchfork
Will you get married?
"Paper Airplanes”- AFI
What is your best friend's theme song?
"You’re my disco”- Part Monster soundtrack
What is the story of your life?
"A Spindle, A Darkness, A Fever and A Necklace”- Bright Eyes
What was is high school like?
"Honey, This Mirror Isn’t Big Enough for the Two of Us” MCR
How can you get ahead in life?
”Temptation Waits”- Garbage
What is the best thing about your friends?
”Sippin’ 40s”- Gravy Train
What is today going to be like?
”Rabbit Fur Coat”- Jenny Lewis
What is in store for this weekend?
”Stay Home”- Vendetta Red [probably]
What song describes you?
”World in My Eyes”- Depeche Mode
To describe your grandparents?
”Silent Hedges”- Bauhaus
How is your life going?
”Golden Years” –David Bowie
What song will they play at your funeral?
”Where’s the Devil?” Th’ Legendary Shack Shakers [oh, that’s precious]
How does the world see you?
"Damn I wish I was your lover”- Sophie B. Hawkins [yeah..ok]
Will you have a happy life?
”I’m Content With Losing”- Underoath [it just keeps getting better!]
What do your friends really think of you?
”Edge of Dawn”- Covenant
Do people secretly lust after you?
"More Adventurous”- Rilo Kiley [song makes me cry]
I would tag people, but I don't even know who reads this shit anymore. Oh ew, i hate having these entries. If someone stubbles upon my journal and reads the first entry I'll look like an airhead. Fuck. I want fruit
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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Tuesday, August 22nd, 2006
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Long time no bother.
liars.
It’s been a very strange summer
Strange experiences indeed. There was a pompous beating of fists and drums in that dark room: the tenuous connections of youth made solid by circumstance, like boulders about to topple from a cliff, held on only by the dieing roots of a plant, or the awkward jitterbug of running, accidentally, into someone known in another life...and even more squiggly shit.
Once upon a time I had a myth that was a lie but it served.
I can't help but feel let down sometimes.
Whenever I am sitting in anticipation waiting for something or someone, something that is no longer in my hands, I listen to The Cure.
I just don't know where to start anymore.
I can go on and on forever and then some about who I was, and how she made more of the world around her.
I need to stop being so distracted. But I feel like pieces of me go missing sometimes. I have finally mastered the art of regret, and within regret lies the realization that one day, I too will die. And for once in a long long while I am beginning to fear dying, not just me dieing, but the people and things around me. It is something I never felt when I was in my more self destructive mindsets. Also, the fear that I am wasting myself. I have come to realize that I am much more aware of my surroundings and myself than most people. Either that or I am batshit crazy. Probably a little bit of both. Oh well.
And I am still just waiting for the phone to ring.
no art today
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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Little is known about Jen, an elusive beast given to lurking in dark corners and unpopular museums. It is thought to subsist largely on tea and schoolgirls.
I sincerely believe i have made myself violently depressed over this- everything within sight or distance is also violently depressing, especially the idea that people make lives out of the internet and watching gameshows/reality shows every evening- i really feel like I need to kill myself because new episodes of jeopardy are being made. because people live in trailers
Yesterday was Pride. It was Fantastic, despite going so late in the day, inviting beth and then leaving abruptly. Whatever. There's always next year.
Yet another bug. i found him flying around the inside of our house, he's a beast but i don't know what... i thought he was a bumble bee at first... but now i don't think so because he's entirely black and elongated... molested him in the jar for a little while and set him free to go about his business... he was so happy. capturing and molesting flying beasts seems to be recurring theme... it is apron weather...
To my Uterus
oh- my entrails
they put me in my place
i removed my female organs
planted orchids in the space
i water me with whiskey
grasp the bedpost for the sting
must have been fine rasberry wine
cause i don't feel a fuckin' thing
in that familiar last life i was a deer -
and am therefore not quite through with the frolicking...
deer you see, have eyes on the sides of their heads, better to see predators or gods of wine...
and deer have not the luxury of speech -
they speak with nudges and long searching glances... so you must keep this in mind if i glance your way searchingly... for i must always keep alert in the woods by morning -
lest i become venison by evening.
Erick Swenson: Untitled, 2003
plastic, fiberglass, steel, flocking, acrylic paint
i hate this entry
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Comments: Read 9 or Add Your Own.
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Had to go grocery shopping..felt a queer magnetic pulling (somewhat different from the average queer magnetic pulling) toward the direction of an asian supermarket where i might purchase a bit of exotic seafood. i've never had an octopus or squid tenticle in my possession and must wonder at the possibilities... again, not for food... but for mixed media, interpretive dance...
it's a beautiful day for squid hunting, for squid-stop-animation...
no octopus or squid even, at the asian market. there was a catfish i had wanted to take home and set free into the ocean of my bathtub... i consider tossing a small electrical appliance into the waters in hopes of bringing back a little life... but no... i did not bring him home. i don't know how to buy a catfish carcus... it looks complicated, with the ice, and the bags, and the weighing machines, and the busy gentlemen standing behind the rows of would-be catfish tombstones- but they are not tombstones, they are pricetags.
i did bring home some tofu and a box of hello kitty cookies... (hello kitty... what marketing brilliance) also, I saw a filipino issue of FHM... inside, nigh an implant among them...
I think I'm sorry. for everyone
It's June. I'm cold...can we exit this season of deeper materials and heavier fabrics- it's proper to wear any leftover remains as stole or capelet...
now... i know that way of thinking is silly, but you can't change how you feel or pretend like you don't think a certain way. i'm receptive, i'm resolved. you can learn from it. i'm going to pretend like it never happened. it's best. curtain closes
This is for you, babe. Piggy game.
http://www.ferryhalim.com/orisinal/g3/pig.htm
Oh i love it.
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Comments: Read 12 or Add Your Own.
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Saturday, June 10th, 2006
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We had the most fantastic storm this past week—in the space of five minutes the sky went from calm to absolutely black and the light went green and yellow; for a few hours it was like living under a bruise.
Just got back from a late dinner with my father. I absolutely love that man and I'm so happy we got to go for sushi tonight. It's been so long since we did anything together. He's so smart and unbelievably wordly, I really am lucky to have him. I make it sound like I've got some sort of Electra complex...it's just that I really appreciate him is all. I also appreciate big ass sushi dinner.
I'm getting so flabby
Art show is over. Thank god. Stupid fake black tie affair. What now? What other meaningless tasks and obstacles do i need to half-ass my way through before I feel peace again. Maybe I'm a maniac. These silly little episodes are getting old real fast. I'm so sick of me.
I love: bumblebees.
Masaaki Toyoura
http://www.task-lab.com/toyoura/index2.html
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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oh kindlings...
i'm terribly behind on all things school, email and lj-related, i hope you will accept my apologies oh gods of the interweb.
It's nearly June and I'm freezing. I believe there's frost in the forecast for tonight...It's been winter for too long, I want to go rainy day mud-frolicking and wander around barefoot on nocturnal moth-watching expeditions. This is absurd.
I need to get out. Friends, nice weather...drinks. Then there are the bad, bad children, the unholy terrors. I love that they show no signs of rehabilitating. And I love the general lack of happy endings (excepting dull obedient drudges and a few blessed fools). Red gets eaten by the wolf. Curtain.
My uterus has me all out of sorts. Stupid organ. The damn thing should be optional—it's not as if I have any interest in breeding.
it's an odd day today. everything seems obscene. I dreamed I had a terrible gash in one breast. I kept prodding at the filmy snarls of tissue and odd-colored oozes that apparently lurk in there- it was sort of Uziga looking (no one draws marbly innards quite like he does). of course the interwb wont help me find a good example. well fuckit
these wound dreams have a way of sticking in my brain. The last one I had I obsessed over for days. My forehead cracking open to the meat beneath. Something like an eye showing, deep in there.
Erwin Olaf!!
An old favorite: Royal Blood
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Comments: Read 7 or Add Your Own.
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"You could totally be someone's deathrock trophy wife"
Finally, something to aspire to.
What a day! Details later. Maybe i can get some photos up?
Hey Miss Murder can I?
Make beauty stay if I,...
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Comments: Read 5 or Add Your Own.
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it_means_to_rot's journal
contemplative.
melancholy.
happy.
sick.
crazy.
bored.
cynical.
