tax of colors

"BECAUSE"

2010-07-03T15:16:00.003-05:00

BLOG SWITCH. FRESH START.
more images, imaginings and graphic upstarts of the vaguely depressing, yet satisfying yields of muffled yelps.

But I leave you with mending:

I woke up today and told Ian: "there's this part in my dream where I am able to paint in blood and only I can see it. It peels when it is on a non-porous surface- so I have to go back into my dream and fix it."

I can not fix it.

Ian said: you should listen to more beatles songs.
I said: I listened to 53 yesterday, but if I am sad I listen to "because" a lot.

Ian bought me some aleve. We looked for lighting fixtures. Everything is too expensive he said. your desk is an escritorio i said. la mesa. he said. lamesa-escritorio i said. it is a revolutionary table desk and we thought of it in a different language.

Ian went to look for fixtures and I went to the park, but it just wasn't the same. The grass was all brown and an angry drunk man called me an illegal jew. I like living dangerously and being 1/8th Jewish, but how did he know that? What was he drinking? My iced coffee did not give me psychic powers.
Besides, McCarren park was sort of sad and my good memories started to make the blisters on my feet swell, so I bid Ian farewell by text because I needed to be on the train and listening to "oh comely" about 3X. I avoided someone who looked familiar by pretending to be interested in a common bird and then ducking down the stairs.

the way to cum part one.

2010-06-11T23:30:00.000-05:00

what i try to do is hold out for as long as possible- managing to torture myself with only the possibility of reward. i then, if able, indulge and feel the fullness of a lowing cow. it feels like milk. it feels like smoke. it feels like drop ceilings and grass growing inside.

if i can not do this then i drive around with music on really loud. this is a very original approach to letting off steam. i pick one song and turn it up and put it on repeat. if it's nightgoat- then i'm fucked… if it's hip hop then i'm smug but then let down. i turn to full album chant type shit and imagine myself with a scarf in my hair and a cigarette dangling from a juicy aunt-like mouth. come here and give me a kiss. i kiss the back of my hand and strip to just a t-shirt. if it is cold- i put the feet heat on.

if i can not do this, and i am still trying to siphon my brain through my nose, i cough with some texture. i back up a little bit against anything that is solid. door frames work. i like cold walls. i like the insides of showers or the brick of buildings at night in the summer. this leaning will help build my posture to an unfurled brown paper bag- damaged, but good for most anything it's purpose dictates.

if i am alone i like to drink a lot of diet coke and grind my teeth while the sun goes down. if i am with someone i will probably do the same thing. i like to be alone and feel like everything has a voice and colors of faded cars are telling me stories about when they were glossy. i like to think i am the only one who knows about the air at a particular spot at a particular time of night. i hold out for reward. i try. i am ultimately a tall tale.

another one off the coast.

2010-04-07T21:01:00.002-05:00

glean some escape vapor from
my stomach chamber
and see how i burp this cloud
of hazy visions.

in my sleep
mucus of dead veins
that have come to rot
behind my once sharp teeth.
-----------

can you tellll can you telllll
.
i still have my heart filled with sun. the sun has replaced the meat batter. the sun has used its rays to cut through my chest and give me one more chance.
one more breath.

i do not know
one month from now.
one week from now. tomorrow.
(i do not know HOW).

how will my shoulders perform? i made cauliflower soup and burned myself. i walked into a shop in larchmont and walked out. i was in california and i liked it. i bought new underwear and i like it. the underwear is from california. i like that. i am back in new york and i like it. my long island sound is lapping and i sweat for it. i like that i am not beholden to swelling in my brain. i'm never going to write here a-gain? i may change do-mains.

another year another city island tragedy. burned buildings. drownings. heroes. that boy who took the boat out in the winter five years ago and they found his guitar and then his body five months later after the thaw. my mother may have held his mother's hand at some point. my second cousin drowned from a boating incident in hungary. my first cousin better find a lifeguard. i haven't swam in awhile but i'm a strong swimmer. riptides and sharks are a whole other story.

i'm not made of medicine you know.

we smell like other places pt.1

2010-01-26T23:23:00.002-05:00

I have these weird cautionary cramps.
they do not say: go.

come on home to green river?

you win some
and youre winsome
handsome precious
and semi pearled in the light cracks
from the disjointed door
where the heat moves out
and the cold crawls along the
treated carpet
and climbs into
limbs and we are stiff
with each other
you are against me
and i am fully asleep
except for my eyes in
the back of my head
board
surveying the landscape.
re-arrange the dark
and moving like a piece of
furniture scratching the surface
of the floor.
floored and finger toured.

mr. prince and i are planning to go to the other side of america
and take a small reprieve amongst redwoods and hops and barley.
but we can plan and plan and a smile tomorrow
could change everything.

it has been awhile since someone radically changed my life.
completely turned me inside out and zipped me back up
into a pet package.

mr. prince did that. he and i pounced upon tons of stationary stability
and fizzy lifting drink and brand new everything in each other's faces.
i still hold his face and think of it naked like those first days. i think of the
firmness of our longhouse and wonder why it is so long and so protective
from the years of mother nature and fates and winds and car crashes and
court cases and skin popping and lording and touting and flume.

so i was wondering if i need something else. i just don't know what i want until
i feel it and it breaks me. wish i was more go ahead more greenlight don't waste time and fright curl. do i need someone (else) to yell at me or hold my shoulders or go skydiving with or plan out an imaginary village with? i am always centering and screaming and redoing and trudging. there are a lot of ands.

i think about the past. like maybe my relatives and how dumb i was to think i owed them myself because we are related. i think about people i fell in love with- some only briefly, some forever in a stagnant dimension i can almost dream about. these people do not care if i get crushed beneath the weight of futures without them. this is why i leave that alone the best that i can. sometimes one gets curious. and it always hurts. this goes for my girlfriends too. three fourths of the people i shared an area code with. actually that does not hurt as much. those people are kind of like glitter residue or drying markers. semi useful, semi beautiful in a contextual light.

now i am thinking about what to do with the rest of my life and maybe i shouldn't. i can never be slight. i can not stand that about myself.

when you make a list of things you admire - some of it should be human. most of it should be. i will lift my own weight by the time we go to l.a.
the last time i went to california- i almost never came back. some of the one fourth is there. something else is there. something is in the woods and i want to be there.

brisk vibration of wilted teeth roots.

2010-01-02T23:10:00.002-05:00

I was paying you a compliment thanks
the walking out in tear soaked
will it freeze to my face drive around
larchmont and appreciate the lights because
what else is there to feel but distraught
and repugnant and glutted and
guttered as if this were fall
which i go back to that song.
that song. and i'm not even trying
and thats why this cute misery is all bundled up
like normal.

if i were going to go over i would jump in with sparklers
and january seems more of a sit silently
with antlers and grown accustomed to the light
pollution
and other pollution of mouths and
whatever else is breeding in the spectrum.

get together when i find someone to grade it.

without a true admission of guilt.

2009-11-29T15:26:00.001-05:00

that strange feeling that comes along this time
haunting with the white and dark meats of things that fill a room
with many good smells as they roast closer to god and a
ceramic or decorative plate.

and they wait.

to be introduced to the mashed potatoes that alex made
with so much butter and kale and garlic
and the cranberries that have bubbled into paste
and want to bond it all to the looser, more lovely and
candied sweet
innocent potato. these have clementine sections in them.

later on i am sick.
my insides have decided they will bleed and bleed
and rasputin is no where to telegram a cure
so i take to the bed. hello bed and warmth. hello
relapse into eye flutters and the shutter of programming to
commercial.

no.no. leave this on. i say. it does not matter and is
easy to sleep to and wake up into
because it is eventually plotless and circularly structured for the
other overstuffed turkey brains.

except i am nauseous. if you know anything about anything
you know i kept it down until i slept with someone holding my hand.

better feeling the next day. until i felt the obligations coat my throat.
i've only just recovered from spitting up blood.
i can sit all night in the dark with a bunch of people and say things
that we won't remember. why is this what people want? there is no
other way to do things i guess.

i am sick of my job but not really
and sick of forced learning but not completely
and sick of you saying
here is where i live
here is where i live

because we all live right here

and as long as you don't get what is allowing you to breathe out such
slender sentences
i will remain going back to the bed with the hand to hold.

i don't think that selfishness is routine. i think it is the disrespecting of anothers' as inferior.
we are all so guilty
guilty.

sometimes there is not enough substance to fill us and the gruel
can never educate the palate of one who has tasted.

i am so happy when some of my senses stop and only and couple work in hyper-drive.
i am so happy when i can just see
or feel warm on my knees.
really i just always want to simplify everthing and
it's fucking impossible.

Who knows.

2009-11-19T19:34:00.003-05:00

I'm convinced that my words are sign language and that what I'm hearing is really the wind
and the waves are actually a hurricane of communication.
Who knew?

Steinbeck. (Kino knew.)
Thoreau. He knew the gentle solace that lead to divinity.
Melville knew. He is buried close by.
E.B. White knew. He watched sparrows carry ribbons in their beaks.
Walt Whitman knew. He knew for himself and for us. He knew us.
Elizabeth Bishop knew. The blue eye of that fish.
Donna Tartt knew. She doesn't even live in New England.

I don't know about D.H. Lawrence. That's grey.

O'keefe knew. Her insides were outside and everything flowered once she met the desert and got out of the green that plagues the northeast.
Paul Muldoon knows.
Sherman Alexie knows.
They know themselves and what they are supposed to feel and their sense of heritage. Their respected and respective lands that have tore them apart and built them up.

Bukowski didn't know shit. I think we enjoy (?) his dry rot and wisdom teeth that were never pulled.

Billy Collins knows.
Stanley Kunitz did too.
Marie Howe felt it some.
Sharon Olds didn't know there was anything to know.

Galway Kinnell knew. I never knew about him until recently.
Thanks be to bear.

(Read it: The Bear: http://staff.psc.edu/schneide/Kinnell-TheBear.html)

Excuse the sentimentality. Here's a rarity:

2009-10-15T23:05:00.005-05:00

I am everything but lonely when I am alone.

Alex asked me today why I went back to school and why I went back for writing instead of art. This is my favorite question he has asked me recently.

I am not in school for writing. I always write. The two are happening simultaneously.
In short:
I write because I can not do anything else with compulsion and passion in a fulfilling way. Writing lets my cloud bursts come in aisle three. My water breaks on the six train. I get a nosebleed while I'm driving. Right before I go to bed I write a novel. Most of this is gone before I can write it down. I am not some uber productive Tolkien unrevised hobbit of the pen. NO. Sometimes some words slide out...
I have a tapeworm that eats my words and makes my sentences skinny when spoken aloud. But it's all there buddy... it's brewing. Live. active. generating.

Inside my head I've got the bloat- a parasitic consumption of letters and punctuation. Rotund and starving, digesting and discarding. Sometimes it's raining and sometimes it's all sorts of precipitation. I've got a lot of weather between my ears. Sometimes I think I can't hear because of all the thunderclaps that mimic awkward applause, or the subtle roar of booing.

It doesn't matter if you aren't God's gift to some prize or short-list. If you do it out of passion, you own it.

A lot of this ranting is coming from my cleaning and sorting through old papers. I'm downsizing my archive in a serious way. When I say archive, I'm referring to a collection going back to journals that are purple from fourth grade and contain my first handwritten poems. There are also quips ("I don't like teacher so and so because when he turns off the lights to get our attention his shirt becomes untucked and I can see all of his hairy belly." God help me. It was 1994. I love hairy bellies now!- and also...bellies-ahem) Sorting through this is a draining chore. I can't let go of the written word. Unfortunately, it stacks up to my height.

On to the next one:
I never feel alone when I'm writing. I never feel alone when I'm alone. I can go a surprising amount of time without conversation. Analyze that to death if you like. Let me give you some hints: I came from a fighting family, I still have a fighting tongue, I'm always in love with something or someone, I'm always worried and anxious... I can spend days on end in the woods with a bottle of gin, my favorite book, a bowl of grapes and a baguette.

This is getting personal.
Forward>>
Boil down:
With people - mis communication and the sudden urge to snorkel with them so we can be underwater and together and make noises of exclamation about beautiful things without describing them and blabbing.

Without people - missing the touch. feeling the weather.

This in know way undercuts my absolute love for people. I would just about curl up and die if I couldn't snuggle or make divine connections with really special souls. The older I become, the more I think I would have a grand time holding hands and singing songs instead of saying: "BITCH PLEASE."

New York is such a ginger root.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
So I write because I can't NOT write.
I write when I can and sometimes I just sit in my car facing the Long Island Sound thinking: remember to download this song... remember to... remember. Remember to write down what that fisherman is wearing. Usually I revel in that moment. There's a slight chance that those moments will make it into my upcoming portfolio.

I've got three poems I'm editing. One is serious, the others are on the dangerous verge of straight malarkey. Reuben helped me with one. Workshopping helped even more. Meena has been helpful in her graceful and fluid way. The Olivetree is always filled with the best mashed potatoes. If we were a holiday we'd be Thanksgiving. All the components are overwhelmingly different and complimentary. I've loved getting serious there lately. It's fun to show up naked in liquid latex, but the it's better to me a marshmallow of repressed feelings on a red couch and explode, no? I digress. I digest!

Love,
Rebecca.

this is not my best.

2009-09-16T15:28:00.002-05:00

Do you want something more from me?
I want something more from me. Harvesting dust and paint peels and flecks of sawdust into glittering foot soles hardly seems enough. I can read out a tongue twister for you.

Don't tell me what to do.

While they are busy building my furniture at Ottavio's on Main St. in downtown New Rochelle, I am building my little room community of papers and magazines (the type you can get grease spots on) with plenty of electrical wires to power hard drives and printers and speakers aaaaand phone chargers and lamps for light projection

onto my lap
late at night,
though I never figure out what eats up my time.

Am I looking at violent pictures on spaceghetto?
I am watching documentaries on instant which only depress me. The Goebbels one had me thinking that every construct of man presently and furture-thoughtfully represented an extension of the third reich. It was scary for a few moments. "Just like the third reich, huh... huh?" or "I wonder who the minister of propaganda is on this project?"

Well there is no more.

No-
There are a few more things. I'm rewriting some drafts and taping them onto bigger pages that I can put into a binder. I'm sketching a little. I'm failing at adjusting to the kids being 5 and 7.

I might as well get it out in the open. I tried to dye my hair back to brown and the expensive Feria chemicals refused to do their job. I am still red,

and everything I pick out is red also.

bulletted and frantic lazy river.

2009-07-16T10:40:00.001-05:00

we woke up today like sushi falling apart.
i thought i could snooze under the far corner of the red sheeted bed
but the awakes had different ideas,
wrapped in green.

all clothed and abreast of the time
we reclined stiff shock, still stock and
washcloth in glue in the again
early 8 am
blue.

just when i thought the colors were over
i was in the front seat of the brake dust factory,
driving him to work and ordering a bagel.
the person who made the bagel messed it up so bad i thought of
lenders bagels and i was angry for paying
this calculated amount
for frustration. i carried the carcass of whole wheat
back to the red bed and gutted it with my mouth accordingly,
feeling the cream cheese slime, wrong slime, hocking back in my throat.
welcome summer.

when i was on a boat for a week i ate better things by inhaling
sea salt mouthwash by convex breath ins,
maybe thats why i didn't get sick. even with no humira.
now im rubbing my knees and telling the laundry to shut up
and denying the exercise and saying my burned knees
turned honey bee golden, but they are no bees knees.

if you were wondering. i am not talented and can love almost anything
but being naked on a diving board.

in case you were asking i'm going to do more,
i'm going to be appropriate.

i'm going to change life into long hair and late night phone calls if i have to.
no.
i will probably snail up and paint the inside of my shell
to my liking.

gravesites and overhauls.

2009-07-01T19:37:00.004-05:00

There is this feeling that all the roads are with simple grass and all the garbage is human suspension.

I am in my room (kind of). My bed is here until Friday. There is a T.V. on the floor and a diet coke handy.
Yesterday I went on an early morning walk. Being here is too much. There is no space. There is still space in Pelham Manor and New Rochelle, so I took some of that space up. I floated on the street. GPS bouncy ball.
First I found a mushroom that was pretty interesting. I did not ingest it or pick it, but I can show you what it looks like. (1)
I then found a robin's egg with a grub inside of it. (2) Do you see that blue?
On my way back, looping on to the main street that leads to the car glut.... there were two rotting fish. (3) After this adventure I went with Alex to Lazyboy's. We ran into Greg and Cassandra and I think Greg's parents were there too. I have not seen Greg for oooh I don't knowwwww a good 6 months. Nice to see familiar faces.

I woke up at 2 pm. Must have been all the fuzz from last night. Alex and I watched Gran Torino, which we both really liked. Clint Eastwood is a favorite of mine. I used to watch him in Westerns with my pops when I was little. Always in the dark. If The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly was on, it was an event.
After Alex and I watched GT, we descended into a discussion that seemed to last until 4 am. Apparently, he woke at 11 and I would not let him leave. He mumbled something about me even being selfishly aware in my sleep! Sorry...

Alex's tooth hurt and it gave him the grumbles really badly. We went to some joint called horsefeathers which was pretty nice. Tarrytown. I figured since we were near Pleasantville, we'd go searching for my Grandfather's grave. My mother did not know where he was burried, but findagrave.com tipped me off to some "location unverified" cemetery. It wasn't that one. There were some Brundage's, but none of them were ones I knew. The Brundage clan is pretty big. Also, there were no Palmer's in that cemetery. I knew that my grandfather was buried near some Palmer's. There was some intermarriage back then at some point and we got muddled up into the same deathpile.
Turns out that there was a small cemetery next to the one I was looking in. This one had Palmer's. It also had my grandfather. Harold Palmer Brundage. He was about sixty when my mom was born and died back in the 70's. She hadn't been to his gravesite since his death- or a few months afterwards. Pretty stoked to have sleuthed this out myself. My great grandmother and great grandfather Mary and George were also hanging around nearby. Several other Brundage's were dotted around the place. Two were great uncles. The others kind of melt into the huge Brundage family tree. This cemetery is supposedly the "Banks" cemetery. Sure I saw some Banks around but there were quite a few other names. See was a common one. Guion. I'm going to go back with a bigger camera so I can get a more accurate depiction and maybe even do a count of internments. My mom said a man volunteered to take care of the property. It's wedged between two houses and a little overgrown. Some stones are completely covered.
My grandmother? Ruth was buried in Brooklyn. She is at peace in Greenwood. Some of my first memories are of visiting her grave. Strange. No Westchester for her. Back to the BK.

Alex got some orajel and I tried to have a coloring session, but he wasn't having it so I came back here. Nothing is painted and the boxes are sky high. I have so much junk. I'd sleep back up in Chauncey (oh lord, it really is the lord's manor), but beer is calling Alex's dexterous hands. Growlers he must fill. Shipments he must tend to.

I've been trying to properly expose myself to the sun before I ship out. I actually went downstairs and lathered myself in SPF 90 and still burned. This is not an encouraging sign, but at least I have some color. Let's hope that all my photos don't have me appearing as a bloodshot bull's eye. I have not done anything all summer and it has felt really fantastic. This rehauling is project enough, and I deserve some laaaaze. It makes me a little restless, but I'm trying not to freakout.
freakie-outtie.

it feels like being concious of swallowing one's spit.

2009-06-25T21:53:00.003-05:00

How are we going to do this?
Hold hands,
clap our hands
[thunderclap, worlds shut-
eyes open]

Waking up in a sun filled room
black cat's maw all a-mew and I felt,
who are you,
so naked, so old?
My legs and your legs in front of a TV set just days ago
made the whole of the Hamlet
swallow into sex and
boring flickers of a seeping love.

Together & Alone:

I take pills to get the mind shut down,
wondering how it ever wound up in the first place.
The process of sleep: a Jack in a box. The box,
what do I keep in that box?
My nuvaring, the head of state, a few thoughts and one
giant muscle that is always pulsing to close.

That is why I am a beam of winded sun,
or
[How are we going to do this]
the weather, unpredicted and irrational.
I am loving and kissing and I am so angry and I'm angry that I'm angry.

The person who taught me how to battle: forced me to armor-up too early,
is now my lesson in calm strength. I suppose I'll never know why inertia
hits the wrong the synapses. My footnote, my keynote.

I leave myself because I hit myself and I haven't found the strength to divorce the qualities that have control over my quality of life. If all goes alright, I'll be on a boat, in the ocean and peacefully exposed to what will consume me as an implosion. I can only go inward until I come around.

My new language, Paul Auster, red notebook?

mom's home.

2009-06-02T19:27:00.003-05:00

ii.
we went into the girls locker room and i told them to turn the shower on
but they didn't listen
and i reached in
and cranked it
and i wound up soaking wet.

we were hysterically laughing, even as i dried them off and let myself
out into the parking lot air.
continuing to hiccup as we were driving home
singing a song only made up of the word: "yes."
sometimes I'd throw in a "no" and they'd giggle.

iii.
easy mac,
that's whats going to happen.
can i stir in the cheese?

THIS SHIT IS MADE OF YELLOW PLASTICS
I scrub the macaroni scum from the bowl.

iv.
look how high i can jump
bigger than you,
as high as you are tall.

(but we're holding hands and i'm helping you,
the door slams. mom's home)

v.
put glitter all over your eye?
i am leaving
and i am leaving with the memory of
your eye glittering,
not pink and red sticky jar stuff
but when you fall asleep and your eyelids flicker
and you're so glossed my heart drops
to my bare feet.

vi.
she's a terrycloth model,
pacing the steps with her glowskin
and unbrushed bedtime teeth.

vii.
don't tell mom
the babysitter is.
alive and well
and not an adult secret.

---
There is no "i." because it was absolutely irrelevant. these all go together and a little ditty about french doors didn't make the cut. I have not edited this, nor do I care to at the given time. This summer is going to be about more than survival. Las Truchas, more. More.

hair snaked down the fire escape.

2009-05-25T22:31:00.004-05:00

Okay; hello.

Already there is a summer sun: begun by burning a stripe into my shoulder. Fruit stripe gum (if you smell me close).

I am starting The Bruise File. "You have files for everything."
I am aware. I bruise so easily and they come in shapes and colors and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I took a few pictures. Auto immune diseases make your body do really weird things.
It makes me very weak sometimes. I took my Humira this evening. It was a stinging jet of glaring fluid subcutaneously splaying it's dreamy fingers.

Is it strange that the longer in this life I take the subway, the more I become paranoid about it? I've been riding that piece of musclefoil for years, but my anxiety never ceases. Some strange French (he said he was) guy with a giant plank of wood decided it would be a good time to discuss the swine flu and mumble about his ten dollar watch. "Does it look cheap?" He asked me where I was born. I told him right here. He said "Brooklyn?" I told him no, because a. we were not in Brooklyn yet, we were calmly rocketing from Manhattan to Brooklyn and at any second that would be true.... and b. NO I WAS BORN ON THIS TRAIN. I had this image of myself being birthed with the helping hands of construction workers getting off work and a business suit type named Leonard.
Then I snapped back to less than rapt attention.
Then the girl in between us told him to shut up.

Late that night Ian and Fanny and Sasha and some more people and I were drinking and eating and having a great time. I was in the process of erasing all the bad goo out. Flushing my brain pudding into my mush mouth. It was great.

THEN: this morning I woke up sweating next to Fanny. I had dreamed that a man had kidnapped me an beaten me with a hairbrush. Where does this shit come from? I tried to go back into the dream and resolve it, but the damage was done. Why had I gotten into a red pick-up truck with this man who had scary teeth? A perfect stranger.

I have really enjoyed the people I know thoroughly. I have a handful and it makes a fist when I feel a bit alone or compromised. I work on flexing that hand. Bringing my toes justice. Walking it out.

I'm almost done with this Didion and ready for a swap with Shakti. Shakti is a real princess peach. I think she might say "fail" too much because it is very "win" when we stroll the streets. A positive influence, yes. Yes.

This week:
Alex shaved his head, I drank some iced chai, oh spice, spice, I shaved my legs and repaired them with cocoa butter. I climbed to the very top of my bed and blanketed my face in soft fabrics I will tuck under tomorrow. I went to the gym and used a noisy machine and wasn't that embarrassed because it's the YMCA. Someone contacted me to be a babysitter/ companion for a 13 y/o girl and a 16 y/o boy but I am not going to reply because 16 is a really hormonal age and I would be shuffling them to the beach and taking them on errands which sounds great except for a scary rogue erection or being close to the tech generation of autotuned lives. I live pretty skifree so I think it would be a bad idea.
humm. I have a new door.
I have my CR from my CR/NC
working with the kids tomorrow. i want to take them to the beach. hunt for seaglass amongst the dime bags. I'll bring my camera.
Oh<
I have recovered sufficiently enough to interact now. SUMMER SUN: Let's Burn it Down

Desperation/Consumerism

2009-05-17T10:27:00.005-05:00

Done did it again.
MY EXPLANATIONS:

1. CAR REPAIR:
My car got hit on Westchester Ave. and Waters Place around 2:50 pm by an MTA Truck (says an eyewitness). The bumper got completely torn off and I had to wait for the cops from the 25th precinct for 3 hours. They are huge douchebags. My mom and dad actually both showed up to console me (I just bought this fucking car on my credit card- need it for work and to get to the subway). The hilarity in this is that they rarely see one another. Instead of yelling at each other, my father yelled at me and my mom fell asleep in the car listening to the radio. I'll take the compromise, thanks. So, I drove home with my back seat collapsed and my bumper sticking through to almost my shoulder. Two guys gave me business cars for their shop. One was driving a tow truck. One guy asked me "whaaa happened that thing get hit" and I told him that A DRUNKEN PIGEON LANDED ON IT AND THE LOAD WAS TOO MUCH TO BEAR. I fucking hate the Bronx, hate cops, hate having cars out of commission, hate calling my dad in times of crisis.
Estimated repair costs: Arm, Leg, Health -5.

2. Melvins:
Didn't get any merch, but I did put more on my metrocard than I should have. Tisk Tisk. GOOD NEWS: on top of seeing Dillard and Dunn play with the melvins, I'm sitting around st. marks eating the crappiest pizza known to man, when who do I see? THE BRO FROM OBITUARY. WHAT?
Estimated cost: 35 dollars, give/take. Health - 3.

3. Victoria's Secret:
Swimsuit. Bikini, actually. God only knows why I must be closest to naked when I feel closest to the sun. I'm supposedly going away this summer, but like everything else, including the huge hole in my wall and everything wrapped in plastic: "are things really going anywhere?"
Estimated Cost: 45 dollars. Health +1
Estimated Delivery Time: Mid-Week

4. Anthropologie:
Really that tank top was fucking darling, and I'll be damned if my mind lapsed from the "I'll never wash my clothes, fuck off, same black t-shirt and jeans everyday, bitch" to "seriously, isn't that the cutest thing to ever live and breathe in cotton fibers?" I'm disgusted. I'm repulsed. I've got a wee bit of cash, step off.
Estimated Cost: $40. Health +1

5. Victoria's Secret: Revenge of the Secret:
I needed a bra. Titties be going every which way like someone with wall eye. Okay, embellishment......hyperbole. There was also lingerie wash that had been discontinued and I had to buy it because I used to wash all my bras in it. I even took it cross country when I went to Cali that one time! My mother flipped a shit and started saying: "We'll only use this for special occasions!"
Deferred Cost after Wallet Massage of Companion: $6.00 Health +1

Let's go home:

6. Vans Era's.
Because I don't have two pairs already. I'm somewhat of a Vans Collector. I wear them every single day. The guy from 99x knows me (and knows I'm a window shopper if anything). Every season I kick it off by getting a pair. Last season I didn't do that. I'll wear my slip ons with wool socks into late fall. It's that bad. I used to be on sneaker forums, as well as Vans Vault, looking up all this stuff. It started with a pair of Sk8 Hi's I bought off Ebay. Now look at me! This was a pretty practical sneaker decision. White canvas with some dark red piping. Eras are more comfortable than classics. My black slip-ons are slowly biting the dust. These are versatile in look and appropriate usage for different events. Can I justify this more? Sure, when I get them, there will be photos. For the record: my favorite pair of eras are my Joel Tudor surf style neon dealies commemorating some Vans anniversary or something.
Estimated Cost: $54
Estimated Delivery Date: Monday/Tuesday

7.
My feet are fucked up.
YOGATOES.com Okay, I am a complete sucker. I've broken a lot of my toes and some haven't healed so well. I have a forming hammertoe, bunions run on the wasp side, and all my shoes hurt me except Vans. Eventually, my pinkie toe will bore a hole in the side of my shoe, and that will be all. "As with any exercise, you must be careful" the website says. I had a 15 dollar off coupon and I don't want foot surgery. I read up on these and they are preventative and corrective. Its like a jelly sleeve with teeth for your feet. Hell, I can't describe it. Just know they are somewhat ridiculous looking. Thanks goes to: The back of New York Mag, Fitness, and AM New York.
Estimated Coast: $42 (!!!! and that's with coupon)
Estimated Delivery: Late in the week.

I also bought some Hunter running shorts. I forget how much those were but I used a Barnes and Noble gift card. I need to buy a book or too, but firt things first: Car and Finals.

big faker/ six gold teeth in the hands of a giant.

2009-05-07T21:02:00.003-05:00

humongous secrets revealed:

I am not a real redhead. Ask people of the NRHS grad class of 2003...if they remember my hair from 2000. I used to be a dark blondish/red as a child. As I grew closer to my father during my HS years I decided to go for it and take on the crazy "Hungarian hue" of his and my childhood.

People ask me this all the time and I tell them I'm a huge faker. Either that or I'm surprised they can't tell.

I'm so used to it myself that this all seems routine for me. Also I am not a liar. I've never really seen the point in lying. Even white lies. I just won't say anything. Perhaps this is another reason I feel I can not be around people who pay me compliments. I can not just say thank you and leave it, or pay one back. Gee, I like your...UGLY STOCKINGS. Hold on a second, let me talk over you and replace your inane drivel with an absolute out of the blue comment you can not respond to. Good news! I can not tell a lie. I used the wood from the tree to build a fire under us. Thank me later.

...cont.

I dye my hair in the nude because I am a messy hair dyer. This is not really sexy. (Ask my neighbors, particularly the one across from me whom I always walk around naked in front of. Pull your shades or DEAL.
Who doesn't like to cook and read in the nude?
I am always sticking out my stomach and trying to mimic a nude model that I once had at Purchase in '04 with Andy B and Joyce. He used this awesome pole to show his old man muscles, and, well, I feel like an old dude sometimes making my little sandwiches against the pale slant of light that filters into the kitchen.) So tonight is not different, except my hair dying robe, the robe I lounge in, has it's ass torn out from being a billion years old.
One day I will sit on it and dust will explode from around my ass and shoulder blades upon contact with any furniture.

(I was successful though. I am ready to graduate into my regular robe and sit down with a Klonopin and Diet Coke.)

I am soul for real though.
I am not not not not not not.
Make that into an equation.
yes, yes, yes
no, yes.
no = yes.
NO + YES = Tomorrow.

solar powered heart.

2009-04-19T00:23:00.004-05:00

In the past month:

-My Uncle G(atsby) mailed me tickets to the philharmonic. My mom and I saw Mitsuko Uchida do Ravel's Piano Concerto in G major (It was amazing. Mitsuko speaks a lost language found only in her finger bones and the three small ones in the ear.) Then we saw Schubert's Symphony in C major. It was late an I was tired. It was amazing, but 50 minutes. I'm not that advanced.

-I wrote a couple of poems. I'm working on some non-fiction.

- other things. hunter college things. odes to stuff. mums the word. all i do is work. and sleep. all i do is read d-listed and drink tea. i bought some new teas...i really like the masala chai. bought tin house. one really weird good story in there. dialogues of departure by stephen heighton. finished that oscar hijuelos book. empress of the splendid season. rode the subway late at night and kind of passed out: mistake. didn't go to any stupid parties, just a good one thrown by the otr. i'd like a cat. i'm excited to go see melvins. people from all around will be coming and we're gonna have funnnn. my dad and i explored a basement. sawdusty. some old habits grew back because it's spring. all i'm thinking about is setting up summer and new paltz. i think about new paltz constantly. i miss alex. all of them. all 3. i wonder how high the grass is- how bad the ticks are. some things are not fun at all but waking up just right is high ranking on fun. when you wake up and you feel the cold but the heat is brewing on the outside and the weeds are soaking it up and the old VW GTI was still around (the first one) and the hills were mountains and sailing down them was this bliss i felt in my teeth and the pores on my forehead. also i got a haircut from bumble and bumble. they didn't fuck it up and i left feeling light, and i sat on 8th avenue and 13th and had a spoon and ate some lock and lock lunch. there is some guy who knits full body suits on the subway but i've never seen him in real life...just pictures. there is a funny feeling in my tummy so i'm going to bunker down.

If you make lists/ are looking to justify empty bank accounts:

2009-03-21T10:42:00.002-05:00

(on my account)

The only thing worth having money for is:
-transportation
-coffee (+tea)
-shows
-shoes
-shower (products)
-condiments (cranberry chutney)
-medication co-pays
-books that are impossible to get for free/ are out of print
...and most likely about five other things.

Extra guidance:
soup is in the same category as coffee. travel is in transportation. band shirts and polo shirts go into the shoes one. make-up or socks go into shower. parfaits, yogurts, and gum go into condiments. drinks with friends go under medication co-pays. somehow technology goes into the books one- but i'm unsure how that would work. i would like to say that trips to the bronx zoo or poetry events go under transportation AND shows.

this is my feel good systematic break down for this week.

Old Jobs, Old Faces

2009-02-22T21:40:00.003-05:00

Saw my old boss in a communal dressing room at Loehmann's this evening.

This was the woman who tortured me, took advantage of me, used and exploited illegal immigrants, burned my fingers on my first day of work, had me run her entire business while she was in China for a week (and the rest of the time, unofficially), who consumed my life for many months back in 2004.

After being abused for a paycheck and learning how to source materials, do phone sales and do actual design work because she was a lazy, lousy drafter, I snapped one day. She called me a name and I got up from her desk and quit. I called her a few names and told her the IRS had been calling me about her. I walked out and threw the keys in her wretched face.

So tonight, when I saw her familiar twitch and heard her grunting to get into some pants....when I saw her reflection in the 360 mirror of the designer strip joint in Elmsford, NY.... I had the inclination to whip around and have a "look at me now" moment.

She tried to place my face. I observed her doing such as she gave up on the pants and slumped them next to her for the employees of Loehmann's to collect. She didn't say anything. If she knew who I was she must had seen that I was not 19 anymore, still loved metal and had been working out. She must have seen another one of the young girls she made stronger by teaching them how to organize and maintain two lives simultaneously (and drive around with her awesome dog hanging out the window- on loan of course- for the crack smacked streets where we had our factory).

I looked at her palsied hands and grey face and thought: "S on a D you B" but called my mother to reveal my thoughts of repulsion and admit my former stupidity for succumbing to the type of work a young girl takes when she is trying to get the start-up for tuition and is developing the guts to heave guttural cries of "FUCK YOUR LIFE LADY!"

lockbox with a prybar. 2009 kickstart and freezepop.

2009-01-19T01:24:00.008-05:00

let me.
entertain you.

i went to see gypsy with mom. my christmas gift to her (the big one anyway...she needed something tangible to open on christmas since it's just her and i now...so some sweater giving was involved). patti lupone is over-rated. she was great but i think i'm spoiled by the movie version. i wasn't fond of the way patti-lu held her notes and then warbled them into oblivion with the orchestra taking her out loudly. call me picky. pick me.

break has been tense. tense because all i can do is work those two days of pure joy with the kids im growing with. i am tense because i don't have the added tension of deadlines, rendering me into a self loathing unmotivated beast of heavy handed snooze slaps on the alarm clock. i usually look forward to this time...and it honestly hasn't been that bad. my friend visited from cali (and while i'm too broke to reciprocate the trip to his LA playground i was thrilled to chills when i saw him standing on the street in greenpoint, felt like everything was RIGHT). my other friend, the one i visited in olympia last year, came to ny and i saw her briefly. then they were gone.
and i had my savings. and i had my undershirts. and i was warm, briefly.

i bought a camera with those savings (great inspirational pressure led to this financial whirlpool) and it was a GREAT idea. i missed constant documentation with an SLR. NIKOND80.
i went to some parties (and that was fun), but i really liked going to bluestockings and seeing an awesome queer memoirist read from her book. and i really liked reconnecting with browning leaves that mulched my ears.
i got into blackadder.
mom bought me HBO (what is this luxury??? she is changing our lives in subtle TV channel additions and the plaster of my ceiling is getting caught in my hair) The TV goes when the books start brewing and being dissected under direction. resolution.

last semester did me right. i felt this good (albeit high-strung) connection to what i was doing. most of my friends from around here have graduated and have jobs or are living off trusts or working really hard so i feel like the oddball who has to juggle stress and money and smuggle smiles closed eyed in the florescence of the commute home. i loved reading at the telephone bar. i was terrified. i like being terrified in that context.

i've forgotten how to write sentences. i was writing a thank you note to a very dear cousin of mine who is a most talented women with the most fetching personality and i felt like apologizing towards the end for the horrible syntax. [but] fuckit, it was on my good stationary and i posted it post haste to get it out of sight.

i am excited to set up my writing/creative studio. i want a fainting couch (it's become an obsession). i want a book i can actually read. i've only bought books that are ten feet tall lately. i subscribed to a magazine. beginning of the year- new moleskine time. (haven't gotten to that yet...printer cartridge too) - when the first class of 09 starts i'll retire the one i have. i am proud of my journaling this year. so proud it'll be put in the lockbox with the other serious transitional pieces dating back to my first fuck, first line of coke and first kiss with a girl. had some firsts this past year. locked in with the naked photos and zines.

a "best of 2008" list would be overkill.
im feeling good and hope to meet my own deadlines this year. i want to cook more. i bruised easily this week. i will organize my computer files and papers and studio and limbs into movement and leave the cold inside my jacket when i collapse into the incandescent lightfield i've laced my room with. this is brocade. this is crochet. this is highly complicated structurally demanding networks of dependent elements making new prospects under the microscope of high hopes. this is porous bone passed around.

living and cooking

2008-08-10T18:47:00.000-05:00

it has been an eventful summer.
i received shocking and devastating news,
tallied one more year,
worked an extremely unsatisfying position in childcare for the first time in my ten years of experience
and gained some perspective on how solitary i really am.

Some call it autonomy, others loneliness. I mathed it out and started seeing a pattern:
I don't drink as much
I don't drive as much
I don't go out of my way as much.
My energies are channeled into work and mental stability. This has made this summer very different.

Two of my friends got arrested, one tried to be committed, a whole bunch of them moved and gas prices made it hard for me to drive to brooklyn, eat cheese and pay my electric bills ("energy saver star" really...really?)

I'm going back to H this fall but I'm considering options/ daydreaming of trees.
I love cooking with mushrooms and I love how many cardinals I've been seeing.

2008-07-06T17:54:00.002-05:00

we will find out if i have shoulders for these bricks.

we will find out if my shoulders are bricks and if i can stand up straight as a wall of hardened connective tissue.

---------
finding disguises in this shirtdress.

2008-06-24T21:40:00.002-05:00

am i unproductive or does this book just suck?

am i going to be better than i was before all of this happened?

am i protected by my skin or by my voice?

sending these into outer space...helping to cleanse my guts of waste.

stuffs

2008-06-08T17:12:00.003-05:00

a hot, hot summer in hell.

costco air conditioner
spandex = i don't care get over it.
fai and i eating a number one and number five at mexican corner.
fantastic rotating taps at lazy boys. mammk ave is like carnival.
i drink my favorite fuze

alex and i "take target"
alex tells me: "if you can read this, the lady has departed" - i vow to screenprint this on a tshirt for him.
alex is leaving for school soon.

i make my mother salmon burgers with avocado. she delights in my cooking.

i dream i am in love with Kyle MacLachlan and we are part of an underground tv show which is paying me 28,000 to perform a script i wrote. there is a conspiracy to sacrifice me. kyle wasn't in on it, thank god.

demi's irish dance recital is on friday.
HUGE litmag expo in soho on sunday! no excuses.

i still suck at darts. i am still reading the fountainhead.

binx.

2008-05-18T18:59:00.002-05:00

mmm triple melts of re-run plastic
a burned hair smell underneath fresh cut nails.

it has stopped raining long enough for the sun to set
and cars to screech at its sight,
a vision of light pollution crested over their visor.

i have decided to smirk the cut shorts and curly frimps
blading under my bands and prickling my forehead.

i wait and wait and wait and want to know why
my stomach smiles like it
knows a secret spelled in the threads
inside my shirt.

there will never be a "best of"

"would it make you feel better if i sent you a picture of my dick wearing a sombrero?"

2008-04-30T21:33:00.005-05:00

yeah shouldnt have come back.
sick of it.

eh. the coffee is better. the soymilk is divine. there was a hearty tomato soup today and some minor research on blake. they changed the color of the metrocard logo to green. it's a statement that the loving and caring mta gives a shit about the environment. ok i'll roll with it. i saw a bentley on lex today crookedly parked with a scratch on the bumper. i snickered. fuck your bentley. fuck it! i'd put that bitch on diesel roller skates and have a ball bombing a hill in neutral.

you know. there's a reason i turned to blues. "you know you wrecked my life and you are the one to blame" sounds so much better coming out the speakz with a pianer rather than a blastbeat.

i had this dream about someone i'd rather not. you know what thats like? you try and get rid of someone and they seem so far away and it might actually be possible to escape their claws.. and then you wake up and they're just about in bed next to you. i had one dream a few years ago about hiding in a bathroom stall with someone and it seemed like the lengthiest dream. i couldn't shake it for days. look i'm talking about it now.
the dream last night involved matter of the heart. i did something bad and woke up GUILTY. i felt it in my heart. like when you taste your own blood and you don't see the wound - you just think...iron. im bleeding delicious iron.

2008-04-25T19:03:00.001-05:00

I am flying back to New York tomorrow and I'd rather not.

mourning doves.

2008-04-06T14:58:00.004-05:00

We used to leave our air conditioners in year-round but someone took mine out this winter. I forget who it was, probably my father when he came over to visit.
Last spring, some birds constructed a next underneath it. They would howl and screech and often I would turn the AC on to scare them because at five in the morning, it could get really, really annoying.

This spring they're back. Problem for them: my air conditioner is gone and they are VERY confused. They keep returning to my sill as if to say: "no no wait wait this WAS the spot I swear."

Then about a week ago, I noticed that they weren't just those twerpy little birdies that scuttle around so regularly in brush. They were mourning doves. Their cries led me to investigation and wikipedia informed me of some interesting info.
They build in urban places, are monogamous and return to the same places to nest.
Aw!

They were preening each other. I guess she's already knocked up and needs a nest to lay in.

I've been considering writing a blog about my auto immune disease. Not many people are diagnosed with what I have at such a young age. I've been battling this since I was seven and now, sick again, I can't seem to explain to people exactly what is WRONG with me. I have health insurance now, so I plan on going to my specialist v. soon. Developments have also arisen at school. I am a student for life.

rising MTA fares and the results in service:

2008-03-10T22:23:00.006-05:00

20-Something Party News:

It was a long week last week. I should have had a nice comfortable weekend of reading Elizabeth Bishop. Yet, as is characteristic of people who take three hour tests on a Friday night, I found myself in a metal bar in Yonkers next to the motel where that one channel of porn is free [and awesome]. What's strange about the bar ["the haunt"] is that it was very obviously a run down expansive night club. Interior includes massive disco ball and huge iron doors to separate the club from the "front club." Despite said features, there is no gin at the FIRST bar and you are better off getting the two dollar bud light anyway [somehow]. That sentence lacked sense, but I continue...
When I first stepped in there was a band on from my hometown. They were awful. They were not very metal and the breakdowns did not make me want to start shit on the football sized dancefloor. The next band had a teensy asian man on electric violin whose shredding rivaled eddie van halen's pretty woman intro. Unfortunately the vocals were overwhelmingly styled after chris cornell's. Nothing fit.

The next night was initially spent waiting for the L train. BUT IT NEVER CAME. A drunk man was loose on the tracks and they cut the power to the L and JMZ. I kept doing laps around Union Square unable to come up with an alternative plan to the otherside of the river. In a roundabout way I wound up walking to and waiting outside the U.N. Suddenly sweating swearing and soldiering because some guy with a crowbar was trying to WAKE NYC UP. I kept wishing to be somewhere else, convinced I was going to die in a grisly Law and Order style. Someone's dog was going to pee on my leg at 9am and they would call the police after saying "whats that underneath the cardboard boxes Fido, is that Gazpacho?" Luckily I was picked up and crew stockholm played stip-scrabble.

The morning after the night before, I went bowling with Little Wheeler and Axl Rose and fixed things the veganhardcore way by drinking some olde e and eating a cheeseburger not cooked to order. I even carried a small tree branch over my shoulder to gain perspective on the nature of Williamsburg. Axl picked up where I left off.
Now I'm back in the grind.

Briefly: Today was one of the hardest most patience testing days of work a young turk could hope to handle.

remix

2008-03-01T22:31:00.000-05:00

i have friends that were born with wide
shoulders and small breasts like
dime bags of peanut butter.
they have wide hips with
rawring tummy and i've seen them
punch men on the street or
piss on the fawned tumbled cement
while guarded with wool coats.
some of these friends are nice for the sake of
being nice
and some just want whatever jam
my tongue is making
so they do not have to speak
for once.

i have friends with wide breasts
born in shoulders
dimed hips
drinking punch on the street.
woolly fawns for the sake of tongues.

Semi-Regular Event!

2008-02-13T14:30:00.004-05:00

Burning that candle:
I made an embarassing mistake the other day. I'm not going to give you full details for fear of being arrested or simply avoided like the human plague I can sometimes be...
Let's just say that instead of taking one medication I took another. One with multiple side effects. During the day. Effects lasting from the tail end of work throughout the school eve.
I only late at night realized my mistake because as is common in my life, my body is unpredictable. Therefore things like lapses in memory, slight visual hallucinations, a mumble-stumble, etc. ARE COMPLETELY POSSIBLE. They are also things I know how to deal with, being treated like a guinea pig in my formative years for a delightful AID that sometimes made me unconcious. The joy!
This will never happen again, as I have now taken it upon my duties to personally make the labels quite discernable from one another.

Other news:
Swingin titties. Every time I'm at the YMCA I want the other ladies v. small a cup titties. I will have to learn how to be in a better mood about my own jugs. GOALS. I HAVE THEM.

20-Something Party news:
This weekend was spent at a few hotspots. I re-met some guy I had conversed with the previous week at Duff's. I saw Manson Family Picnic at Pete's Candy Store [many of my friends showed up and MFP were really bangin for a second show]. I saw David DePoris get his grove on in front of an absolutely abnoxious crowd of NYU students. They were all miserably drunk and the ratio of one dude to hot asian chick was great. Great for them. I was looking for some brothers, or at least people that looked like they hadn't fallen out of their parents wallet in spandex and cocaine covered smocks. Oh, right. I met some lovely ladies. They were on the powder tip and I was on the just got kicked out by security tip. It was fun but I'm off the crazy glitter and I needed a snooze anyhow. This GinCat likes the soft pillows these days. I'm surprised I didn't stay in all the week-end trying to re-watch twin peaks.

Hope I don't feel differently tomorrow.

2008-02-05T22:17:00.000-05:00

The human body. Created for all of the struggle that can be felt by the gifts we were blessed with!

For a while now I have had a terrible attitude about money. I grew up on the disadvantaged side of the spectrum because of a whole lot of bad decisions my parents made. Staying together, over-estimating people skills. You get the idea. I've known work from a very young age which has it's drawbacks.
For one, you grow up resenting those with no work ethic. I may be lazy when it comes to buckling down and concentrating on details, but I've been beating up the big picture pussy with a dick the size of a bayonet [I'm very old-fashioned].
Excuse the terrible reference and slight to women. Where I'm from it becomes a part of your everyday language. Instead of erasing that, I'd thought I'd give you a peep into what commuting on the NYC Subway is like. Day in and day out.

Of course I'm aching and dying step by step and I reach my front door and the elevator is going to be out for two months and I turn the key and sigh and walk up the flights with the ole "I didn't die on the last landing, I ain't gonna die on this one" attitude.

Back to money though. It's when I'm at my most tired that I really do NOT care. Heading into this gloomy recession has hit me hard. I'm really poor in every sense of the word. At least in the sense that I can not take you out to dinner and I steal rolls from the cafeteria and I will make you a Valentine's Day card with stale markers and you will think I'm creative but really wouldn't we all like chocolates and don't you think I need a haircut and health insurance? Seriously though. I honestly think of my father coming to this country and only having a radio to occupy his home time. Or, of course, interaction with family. OR just hanging out on the corner with people before the days of invasive ring tones and clothing for dogs.

The thing is, I can fall just as deep into the gold filled rabbit hole. I like to spend money because it's such a stupid thing. I'll give you this if you give me that. In reality I don't need what you have unless it is knowledge you are imparting or the ride it takes to get me there. I have a nice watch I don't need and my ex-boyfriend actually buys me stockings and feeds me when I don't have food in my house. I can not put a price on good company or a good show versus an ankle sweller and skull crusher [I'm a fragile boned lady, ask my PediR]. I can not put a price on sidling up to someone with a cheap beer and feeling them out. If someone kicks a trash can and startles a Goddamn CAT I can not recreate the moment of 4:30 am deserted Brooklyn streets. This is my version of "money can't buy you love" or "I will not contemplate slaughtering that woman who is wearing a full length fur in april, for she is radiant in ignorance and rich in a nose broken on purpose to smell the richness of her own shit." vampires of zanzibar. sensory overload!

I always think if I can't live anymore or I lose my house or shelter, if I lose my family, if I ruin everything, I'll just go back to the dirt and make january nights smell like the butter of bare damp trees. yum.

You tend to write uplifting things at the craziest of times. fuckit.

working title.

2008-01-22T21:58:00.000-05:00

or "return to the big screen", "post-partum woes", "beached icicles: beast tricycles"
:
"everybody hurts"

I went to my car tonight and was surprised not by the sight of it, but by what was inside. Gee wiz, it was a whole bunch of feelings!
Let me explain:

Today was one of those days that everyone has. It wasn't exactly "fuck the world." It was more of a day that turns into conflict and leaves you a little bit breathless. In my case, it meant a bit of sniffling as I took out my keys to my car with readiness to go home.
I shoved my things into the passengers seat and started her up. As soon as I did I was flooded by Q104.3's (self-proclaimed "classic rock" station) sweet melodies. I changed to power105 without registering what was on and then switched back in a powerplay that involved NOT hearing duffle-bag boy song. Truly, my subconscious was on high alert, as R.E.M's "everybody hurts" was at the crux of it's sweet gnashing. This is the way my life is. I laughed a little at the situation and then returned to my sniveling briefly. The song ended and another came on. Before I knew it I was cursing in traffic and salt stained on my dry cheekbones.
This is what happens. It's not a sign, it's just the way things are. (Insert bro statement if applicable).

The breaking point has been set high lately. I've been taking things in stride, trying to do my best, all of that inspirational shit.
It's just that when things go wrong the problems swell until the emotions are saturated. In dealing with people you have a connection with, it's often hard to be persistent with communications of unhappiness or displeasure. In my experience, whiners suck and are a helpless breed. Yes, I've got some things that I won't share with anyone, immediate family aside. I feel I shouldn't have to take on the worlds problems. One problem at a time towards the solution. Heath Ledger died dude. Amy Winehouse is hitting the crackpipe. The world is upset and I'm trying to find out the forecast for tomorrow.

But, in the event that I void myself of the truly pertinent material that does, indeed, fabricate the mysterious bridge of laced fingers or phone conversations over five minutes, I like to have a retainer and not a barrier. Bluntly: I can be blunt. Some call it a flaw, others don't even call me on it. I realize it. When emotions leak and the pipes burst and doves cry, I'm greeted [nameless] in a manner I would never think to inflict on anyone. Sometimes I have to remind or simply state that: I am not a robot. I may not show all of the inner brew ALL of the time. FINE. But then I was told,
have more spine.
That really ticks me off. Makes me tingle. Makes me cringe. Makes me turn from a "sad" tear to a tiny laugh of disbelief and disgust. Some people go to any lengths to justify their black holes and common noticeable flaws. Some even go to other "states" to realize that they can't escape the reality that claims itself in one's roots. You have to let people go and figure things out for themselves. They'll either quell that demon or wind up in the same spot and in a similar situation. Motivation. rah-rah!
It's not always about leaving or wishing to leave, or leaving your old self, OR leaving the world with the aid of socializing, booze, or crutches. We all do similar things with our ideals and notions of reality.
"This is MY club, this is MY party, MY life, the way I am."
Yeah. I can get down with that to an extent.
It's the growing up comedown. Not getting older, but shedding some skin, seeing documented metamorphisis. It's THE life. "I joined your/the party and it's been A ride". If we can't get into OUR reality, dig ourselves out of OUR joint problem or even YOUR problem and MY problem butting heads... the least we can do is recognize it and accept it. We can use it to help us in our reality and bring it into the party. [Growing up is hard to do. There are fantastic double-standards, but high living with someone else blowing wind in patchy sails leaves one in Bermuda Triangle territory. I realize I'm taking the example too far. Party boat. There I'm done].

I guess clearing out the damage isn't permanent medicine. It's our dose of reality in a generous measurement.
Chronic.les.

dry skin, rusted kneecap.

2007-12-11T10:12:00.000-05:00

I am currently trying to kick prescription sleep medication because I don't have the money to pay for it. Maybe kick it isn't the correct word. I am an insomniac. I was diagnosed years ago. For some reason, like other functions I should come equipped with as a human, sleep was not one designed for me.

-It does NOT help that they are building houses across the street at the break of dawn when I am just closing my red rimmed eyes.

-It does NOT help that my room is next to the kitchen.

-It does NOT help that I am in finals week.

I may try over the counter medication eventually because two hours of sleep or less is not cutting it. I'm too fragile for misuse of caffeine so I'm in a walking haze persistently.
I must say late night TV is pretty good. I also come up with wacky inventions and sculptures in my delusional states. I have this idea for fountains and snowglobes. You would never believe it!

instep.

2007-11-15T00:56:00.001-05:00

and finally what was bothering me was that i would forget to turn off the light
or double back to swallow a vitamin
or forget to take tea with me on especially cold days
where my scarf served my jacket a banquet dinner.

honestly i became obessed with the past compared to the present
and the future of money and when exactly my soles would wear thin.

i wasn't in any type of predicament but the fact that the door didn't close all the way
made me laugh and the
sound of my keys in locks made me bite my lip so hard there was blood-
really blood inside my mouth
that i would drink down with sletzer.
when my keys were at my hip or stuck under someones ass on the subway
i was alright.

my anecdotes hadnt suffered in the wrong venues
but i made the choice to accept my name
as it came from people i really loved
or do love, to this day.

when i was alone in the dark waiting to sleep i was hoping some person would come
and snuggle my hands to them,
thats what i like most...
but i awoke to construction. i think whether or not i hear it
some cement is always being poured
and men are at work.

blanking blanket

2007-11-09T21:21:00.000-05:00

and here i write the
lion is the walrus;
paul!

things hurt. im prone to bruises and picking at my face. ive cried a lot recently because everything turned into a fucking meat puppets song interpreted through a hobos bad acid trip.
it hurts my face and my eyes.

im so tense my eye started twitching and my jaw is popping like the rock steady crew.

i miss gordy. being away from her is like knowing my favorite pen is being used by someone who translates neruda into german. im never getting that pen back. it was such a fine black thing.

im really terrible. i want to go back to new paltz and live in the cold and let the mice catch the mice catch the flour i didn't bag up properly. i stopped smoking again. i got sick and then repulsed by the additives in my body. i got repulsed by my own sallow skin and the weaker light in the bathroom. i started drinking seltzer because i ran out of diet coke. then i stopped eating meat. finally i started reading murakami again- because after so much thoreau [and such a distance between now and when norwegian wood was read] i needed to be immersed in a corny cob pipe of a dream. "do you understand?" "do you see?"

im repulsed my the material me. right now as i write this i'm in my alaska shirt. the one anyu brought back from some trip. serious pitstains so i wear it in fall/winter when i need a sweatshirt. sweating it out at the homestead! im in pat's pants from when he lived in new york. brian gave them to me. pat still asks about them. they have moose on them. when i went to california [where pat now lives] i wore them every night! also, i am wearing my favorite perfume.
perfume is great because it goes from being contained in a bottle [which may in fact be amazingly beautiful] to being wildly loose on neck breasts and wrists. i never feel bad about buying perfume. i stick with the same one for about two years. people whove known me long and have smelled me consistently tell me i have two scents. i'm okay with that. i dont know if i can ever wear the perfume he gave me again. also, i am uncertain we will ever make perfume [again].
my parents refused to send me to france to perfume school to be a nose. i wound up leading a very terrible life [just kidding, i would never kill myself over spilled anything... well maybe blood. it would have to be perfect and not premeditated]

tomorrow i go to a women's conference at hunter. i get in for-ee because i am part of an organization or something. its at hunter so thats my in[n]. i go there, you know. to learn how to sit quietly and at first be ignored by my peers, then avoid them.

boy, i sure can only handle a few good fellows at a time. i really like to be the sleeper. papow.

in other news:
my horoscope [so accurate i have to share, so scary its true, so true my life has changed and i am again homeless in my home]:

"Reaching understanding with others concerning feelings and emotional issues is a special focus for you at this time. Resist the lure of something that is obviously bad for you. You must be willing to break out of a downward spiral by accepting the inevitable. The line between the foolish and the wise has never been more clearly drawn."

what a fire sign! where's my wet blanket?
---------
-ian and will at arlenes grocery
-mxbx
-tickets to olympia
-cr portfolio
-bankxit

2007-10-03T22:14:00.000-05:00

help. there is a bar across the street.
they have a raucous karaoke night but tonight
its JAZZ
and right now its a sax jazz rendition of smells like teen spirit.

what?
why.
gordy is trying to knock misc. things over. pill bottles and skrewdrivers.
tonight the kitchen cabinet fell OFF OF THE WALL. only one dish was broken. i wasn't here for it but wow... [too bad i brought my cat here and my landlord had to say this about fai]:
"she black and make neighborhood look bad"
and then when called a rascist:
"i have many puerto rican friends"
but not in astoria.... right?

as fai would say: "afro peruvian: TAKE A RACE CLASS"
she moved to bushwick. i have a sick history with that place including:
getting offered crack
being asked out on a date in which crack smoking would be the seduction stage
obtaining the keys to some guys apartment that i hardly knew back then and then inviting people over while he flew to texas. drinking forties and brushing roaches off me in my sleep.
kissing sabrinz on the cheek after having a stoop talk where we watched the rats mate.

oh man. Smells like teen spirit again after crazy jazzy flutter interlude.
even hitting the high notes.
woosh.

so what do i do? i dont know. keep reading walden and writing crazy short stories that get czech plusses. working and wiping yoghurt out of demz hair? no non ononono
watching HOUSE in bed with my mom while we tell tall tales about neighbors, including deceased ones.
YESSSSSSSSSSs.

summons infection.

2007-08-02T16:10:00.000-05:00

yesterday i had to go to court for my favorite reasons: the ole pink sheet. aka nyc summons.

let it be known that i was extremely guilty of the "crime" i committed. yes, i was in a "park after dark." i was drinking but at that time i had downed it and was clean. i was the most level headed of the bunch, and proceeded to calmly persuade the officers from being douches. however, as anyone knows, they were typical cops and wrote me up anyway, making several mistakes on the summons. of the ticketed group i was the only one who showed. my friend harry took off on foot down the block, my friend danielle made way to denver, and that other kid- corey, he was a squatter whom i only met that night. supposedly his long locks were cut later the next day.
he told my friend he'd like to date her.
she said no way because he didn't have neck tattoos.

anyway.
my case was dismissed yesterday. they let me off [just like the trespassing and untimely lapse of judgment when i lit up a cigarette in front of some cops on new years '05 in the subway station].
i am quite the summons magnet.

i have a sinus infection. i am at my house for the first time in a week. obituary tickets. mountain goats tickets. klonopin.

tamborines for the lord of silk thread.

2007-07-13T14:55:00.000-05:00

hi,
this is the owner of this blog.
hi.

today i had food at a place that i think was trying to poison me. or make me vomit in front of people. or just playing a cruel joke where the soda and ketchup and salad and chicken was filtered through five month old yoghurt and goats milk, prepared to swim rancid in my stomach. heaving like a storm that would flood Pinocchio's heart.
saladhead.

branchworms invaded the outermost finger on my left shoulder and wont let any conscience wary flutterbirds land there to whisper the good news in my ear. the downside of all of this is that i have snails with demon antennas leaving slime trails through my life. a grueling way to go down, if i were provoked for a response.

brand spanking new molskine. big one- as big as they get. leave the new paltz one behind and get started on all of this gumbo that wrestles my mind and hands. wrings my hands like washcloths and flaps them like umbrellas indoors.

i don't know what to say so i just tell you i can not see you today. maybe tomorrow as i mend with tonight, the nautical breeze will uncrust my throat and i can be honest. i thought about walking down to the water. i forgot how heavy my feet are. wear sunscreen on my lips and pass as a person who burns everywhere but the softest part of her body, heart centered in mouth.

mattress trouble.

2007-05-21T09:13:00.000-05:00

gosh.
i wish i had some very nice wooden floors
to make sticky with spilled stuff and clean them up
feel accomplished.

wellie.
i have to go to work. gonna miss it for this month definitely.
love these children so much.

also:
coke zero cherry
itching/scratching
glass
old american cars
bootleg dvds
not bonhoeffer
barrettes. i really love barrettes.

it took me forever to get my scripts this month. the secretary at the office was completely out of her mind. she was rude for no reason. fire her, please. god DAMN. people who work in offices around union square. efk. this week-end was so great. i drank two liters of diet soda and watched the fast and the furious: tokyo drift. i guess some of my friends graduated from college. uhhhh. congrats. see you back in new york. if you are moving to LA, good luck. have fun in LA. i was watching skate videos [see: in bed all weekend scratching drinking soda with comfy blankets and gin and tonics. a good send off week-end] and i love recognizing locations from LA and SF. too glad to be in NY though. this summer is going to be weird. things happen when you least expect them too. someone fly me to olympia. someone fly me to greece. we can stay for free, promise.

i bought an irvine welsh book. i have plenty of other books to read but i guess i can not commit to those others. i've read everything Welsh has ever written. the good and the iffy.

i got into an iffy tiff with the head of the religion department. [not really a full blown tiff but she's a tough nut to crack. she left a message on my goddamn answering machine!]

proposed:
the rest of the year i'll be a little more reckless but

infinitely more organized.

inviserable.

2007-03-12T19:29:00.000-05:00

we all stall,
make mistakes;
sink the basket when no one is looking.

sometimes we're french,
sometimes we can't pay 700 in rent for a shitty place that probably has bedbugs.

style the hair of little kids
who only seem to wear variations of pink.
----
uh.
i am scared to look at my bank account. because i have next to nothing in there and i may possibly have another school to tuitio-size. i also lost my bankcard. and my glass earring. oh yeah... i should go buy hella's there's no 666 in outer space since/for i love the album so much.

cannibal corpse is playing irving.
i'm seeing type o the next night. i'm too broke to buy a ticket right now
but trust me--- i will fucking be there.

nyctv is taking over the world. or maybe just my kingdom.

regis and kelly. people with accents.

2007-02-23T02:00:00.000-05:00

fuck being up at two am.
"why am i obsessed with suicide" "where is god when i need him"
this is why i dont watch tv. bizarre messages can appear at any time.
actually, i do watch tv. i watch regis and kelly. why? i love the sound of regis' voice.

http://flickr.com/photos/non_delay/

so many good things have happened.
i held so many babies today. i love kids.
i even napped with dem today because i was awoken at five am!
[i didnt go to sleep until 3-30am]
i had such a full day. [so many things went wrong though!]

alexi is going to dc. im jealous, obviously. i have to be here in ny- handing in papers on kierkegaard and camus. pimping my vans on the escalator. hunters and gatherers. witty. i met someone who has a great smile. oh crap.
im upside down inside out. really i need to get to beverly at some point. brian called me today and i picked up and started singing to him. he said: "is this a voicemail?" no. i just want to sing to people sometimes.

i was going to put: "i need a good fuck" it was all subconscious and sneaky like. but i really dont i really just need to put gas in my car. its running on fumes!

document this:

2007-02-09T00:20:00.000-05:00

lol

very funny;-) thanks for the laugh
i am sorry this was sent to you by mistake

At 05:38 PM 2/7/2007, you wrote:

i filled my requirement last semester when i took 100 i believe- do i still need this? im in psych 170 now- maybe you wanna test my blood for stds? let me know if i can get three credits if i test positive for something sexy.
that was kind of rude but i felt like i was on a roll.

rebecca kish.

-----Original Message-----
From: Psychology 100 Research Participation system [mailto:________@hunter.cuny.edu]
Sent: Tue 2/6/2007 1:34 PM
To: Rebecca K---
Subject: Psychology 100 Research Participation system Login Information

Your login information for Psychology 100 Research Participation system is listed below.

User ID: ______
Password: ________

-------------
love hunter. love. it. its a lovely place. i love when im on the escalator and the fire alarm goes off and they become stairs and no one even says anything. they just start walking up. except i just got off the subway so i came in at the basement and im like: "damn yo" but i dont say anything. no one else does either.
i've been writing a shit ton. bad news: i wrote a horrid paper for religion. i said something about a belly button. "coz, you know; its like---finite"

i think i lost power steering fluid in my car. i was on middletown road the other night [you know just chillin in the bronx; like always] driving home and wouldnt you fucking know i pull under the el train, except my wheel wouldnt turn and i already accelerated. this isnt an "i think" so much as "i know."
how, HOW DO YOU KNOW THIS AREKAYE?
well.
a. i know what power steering fluid smells like
b. i think it might have water in it [think-frozen]
c. i just popped my hood and took care of this issue a couple of weeks ago and noticed some non consistent traits and trends concerning fluids.

note: psych170= psych of human sexuality.

Realizing Wits do come from Twits.

2007-01-28T13:52:00.000-05:00

I've had a very ritzy and very flowerblossom lifestyle as of recent.
What with the apartment and house hopping and sleeping in odd places, to the excess consumption of all things human: [BRAINS!]
I definitely killed a few brain cells in the process but at least I have a short story set-up now and dontchaknow,
sacrafice [fill in the addendum for those of you with jaws and a tail].

Edward Gorey once said: "I have to write before I draw"
The man is a great source of inspiration for me. I only wish I knew more about him, so I've been reading up and out/over. I ordered some things by him.

Oh, gee whiz. I have a problem. Both of my computers stopped working, mostly. One is just dead- Thats with all my wiritng/writing on it. I looked [hard] at how much those ibook things cost. Holy crap! [A lot of money]. How ridiculous. I need to get one that fell off the back of a truck. Email me if you happened to be standing around and caught it when it fell.

I've bought and mailed some darlin' postcards. All of my friends are now old and wrinkled. you can check my flickr if you don't believe me. Starting another semester at school. It seems more like hustlin' for grades sometimes than learning with a mint leaf as a bookmark.

You get the drawl.
There was quite a bad accident in the spine of newrochelle the other day. Mummorz friend [done] saw the gored body. Today it has come to light that the man was a family friend. [Of someones family, I refuse to believe that we could call this non-cohesive unit "family"- it seems to come with a chuckle. As if we were all pieces of paper and the best glue someone could come up with was tacky glue and all of the sequins have since dissapeared but you can see their mark clearly. That was a pretty long aside, guess the dead body is on my mind completely. Considering its been cremated, that makes sense].

TA.

Free Punch.

2007-01-17T22:13:00.000-05:00

I feel quite accomplished. I've read two books already this month. I'm sure I wont finish a third, but I sure as hell am going to try.

I get pretty side-tracked. Not that theres anything so monumentally enthralling outside, beckoning me ever so softly, but still.

I had to go to Borders today and Bret wasn't working. Some chump rung me up. He wasn't a bad kid, it was just that he didn't give me an obscene discount. [And, I bought an obscene amount of books- on a gift card...].

Later I wound up at an exhibit at the high school where I saw my old photo teacher. She wasn't surprised that I had turned my focus to English. She also wasn't surprised that Alex no longer lived in Canada or spent a duration in Cambodia or India. Does anything surprise anyone anymore?

I still can't find last years desk diary. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, but I have postcard stamps in the pocket in the back and I need them. [I'm thinking about a piece for my arm by the way. CHRIST the train horn is blaring. why for choochoo, whyfor?]

I can't decide if I'm going to cut all my hair off or not. Ya'll have seen me with this long hair. It is long son. L-O-N-G. I have to cut someones hair this weekend. Then they are going to Texas! I would like to go to Austin. Unfortunately, I'm actually looking for flights from LA or Portland.

If the band Harvey Milk and I were in a torrent love affair, I would describe as such: "Yeah, we're not really happy in this long distance relationship, I just need to feel his touch; yaknow."

They're Bloodletting the Foundation

2007-01-02T23:12:00.000-05:00

A stronger skin over the wrong side of my heart.
Swinging like a pendulum, the proof is in the metal that clinks under my shirt. Now and
forever, I'll have an addendum that'll deflect the descending ozone [that smokes on the
sidewalks].

A Born Again Warrior of the well worn soles and tied tongued losses.
As despicable as I've found humanity to exhibit- a constant held true before my first
compound sentences- I'm coming around the bend without breaking. [or disolver, revolving,
inverting, converting, this convection] More forgiving? Possibly. More understanding?
Definitely. How about more warped into a coated reality of reading skies while in
conversation? Indeed.

The other night, rain soaked, foreign clothing.
A fogged morning: a new yearded chapped quarter lip, wonky walked Volver
a girl with golden hair
a princess eating soup how we eat
across: a boy who is an underdog
backlog: listing in our wet clothes,
buffer zone blanket fold:

Here today
I kept
the car in gear
chewing on a metrocard
circling the block
because i had to see the way the light was
again
so i wouldnt forget
january second
two thousand seven
--------------------

Extending the kindness of fingertips
to shoulderwings
and blades of running
teeth across the edge of
beckoned glass.

There with a blackened dollar bill
the street signs blur.
Fanning blocks of loose change,
wandering above poverty lines.

Smiles farther now, because there is
work i need to get under the first layer of the skin
below the artery of
my right wrist or
whatever gets palest when my lips go blue
for the first time
by name.
-----------
I never actually made a checklist. I never really needed to.

It's touching: Isn't it/ Arn't they?

2006-12-19T22:16:00.000-05:00

Not even hockey could calm me down tonight. I'm raging until Thursday. That being the day I collapse in a wealth of success with a bunch of seraphim holding my head. Finals, driving in NYC with a bunch of tourists, walking around a bunch of gawkers...Subway delays, shopping at Costco- yikes. The other day I worked about seven hours and I wound up writing a good portion of my payp there.
I can't get my mane under control.
The other day I sprawled out on a fouton in a cold basement and let a 4 year old play with my earrings for about five minutes.

Things are quite up in the air right now. The only thing thats certain is the tuition bill I just payed and that I wear pretty much the same thing every day. I've been wearing these black van slip ons for a while now and it didnt matter much but now that its not 50 degrees anymore my toes numb with the understanding that I will eventually shove them under blankets.

To top it all off I feel guilty about having material possessions, feel overwhelmed by my choice of solitude, and grateful to my cousin, who, despite being about twenty some odd years older than me, has been pretty badabing about odd needs concerning optics.

I feel really positive about painting lately. I feel good about the History Channel and theburg.tv which I haven't admitted to watching to anyone except one friend of mine who now watches it as well. "WT-Fuck, yaknow?"
Recent inquiries:
"Can you recommend an exhibit thats open right now"
"Can you come and get drunk with me"
"Can you meet me downtown"
"Can you send me those pictures"

Recent Responses:
"Let me check New York magazine- guilty pause- OK I have it"
"I can't"
[No response, let the Voicemail get it]
[No response, sent the pictures]

See Y'all next year. I don't have any lists except to-do's. Email me if you want a To-Do list.
*Note- To do list will be hard to check off if you are not here.

november round-up.

2006-12-02T22:31:00.000-05:00

old friends meet up. seldom occassions of r.k. smiling. one of these people i kicked in the face after he slapped me.

i never thought i had a.d.d.
i was tested once but used devices such as telephone keypads and patterns in surrounding paintings to aid in short term memory. this was such a habit, that it screwed me. i'll never know what the results of that test would be.
that was the year i fell in love for the first time
[oh -and so hard. i was actually crippled in pain. when i experienced the repeated absence rot- i tried to recall that first hurt and equate the two. i just got sicker. i was in love so bad my body almost fell apart. now i keep it together by using my good old back up plans. poor eye contact and all those other "cosmo donts" they work! ---if your aim is the "don't"]
that year i was scattered. i kissed people i hated and had hero-worship complexes. its horrible to admit- but every single person i ever thought was worth it- wanted as a friend or to have an intimate moment with- i got- i mean- i "WON"
you can imagine how this is catching up with me now.

i am inspired by the wrong things.
here is a quick list of items that would surely get me bound to the whipping post by literary -laureates-evils-nobels- and colleagues:
-shoe designs.
-watching the tactics employed by people who have nothing to hold on to on the subway.
-the average time the mail comes on a saturday.
-writing over reviews in decibel magazine. general comments and snide remarks that no one will see. in red ink. for example- the converge "no heroes" album. "yeah right" or for some bands: "not actually where their scene was initially based"
-writing over poems in poetry books and literary journals
-the way old women dress [perhaps to blame for my old job in the fashion industry]
-irrational hatred of: neckface, boys with asymmetrical haircuts and people who are flakier than i.
-how long it takes me to get my coffee, the amount of sugar in it, HOW LONG IT TAKES ME TO DRINK IT. [where i will procure it: which burrough- westchester, the bronx, manhattan, did i remember my club card]
-soup. sweet potato soup.
-how i would move to albQ, NM if i could. or the desert.
-sometimes i want to hug strangers on the subway: NOTE: most dangerous inspiration. especially when people are pubically crying.
-bed [un]make-ups.
-many many more for future installments.

here are a few things people arnt prepared for upon meeting me:
i will openly insult you to see if you can take it. a quick ribbing. nothing terrible. if im tipsed, it will be a little more insulting. i dont lose my judgement innebriated. men have made this mistake. i've gotten into confrontations. most of the time i'll walk away but there might be an offshoot that i'll be ready to throwdown. unispired drinking. its not romantic. no one cares if you get high or drink. people who usually care are usually not very inspired themselves and are on that -yes- journey.
i'll most likely chose music over friendship unless the friendship has nothing to do with music. i'll compromise in relationships. i am a more positive person than those who claim to be but lead miserable unfulfilling lives.
ALRIGHT.

pathos

2006-11-22T21:38:00.000-05:00

co-morbid.

sat there just pulling on my fingers to loosen
the circulation
plotting my mouth into a fixed brick-
a psych textbook from the 60s gritted in my mitts.
actual painful swallowing. why are they ignoring everything?
notation in pencil in the margins. i love her handwriting. LOOK AT THAT QUASI R.
why are there more statistics on rats then in chem books?
i was born in the year of the rat;
i've returned, [to] monkeys.
swish swish.
today my back hurt. my pants stretch weird,
but im trying not to care. i dont want to wash them. i sleep in them sometimes when i fling myself into the covers with abandon that doesnt put me to sleep
but keeps me there;
not movable.

there are weak threads. i know because i sew.
not much just one thing to another occassionally.
i lost my thimble. even the plastic one. now i use my teeth or
my kneecap.

i love finding things and feeding cute
animals who go back to sleep. [isn't that so sweet and lovable, arn't i humane?]

the other night this guy performed at rock and music hall and i went with the expectation to hate it [i usually need forty amps or one sunn nowadays. dont worry im almost over it] but really the lyrics were terribly insightful and honest. [what did i come up with? i was cold next to the octopus get money getmoneymoney]. i thought to myself...that guy is good looking AND smart? he must be a total fuck. he seems too stable. i wonder what his apartment looks like. wait...i could care-less.
the amount of female bashing im privy to sometimes is quite alarming. i dont judge females on their sexual ways. the things that come with it are more important. sex is just the act. its like that with everyone. ive become pretty numb lately but ive had the fits. i found someone good looking and smart once.
he didnt speak english too good. i couldnt keep up my end of the bargain.

i was reading to MY anyucam some things written about -ache and we were hysterical. my monthly adaptations are pretty anecdotal but i realized that she was tearing and my mouth had gone metal tasting. ohhh no ones gonna know but you
i said
no ones ever gonna know what happened
to me but you.

i'll never be able to convey.
eh no more excuses-

ill get back into the love-swing. [half-joke]

My Nooner

2006-11-12T02:19:00.000-05:00

pop my jaw back into place for the tenth time this hour
and things seem ok.
i mean im extremely satisfied with the nothing that expands in this mutating landcape. i

never have any idea where i am when i get all worked up and more often then not,
:i shall make this secret public...
i want to scream "I AM BLIND" because i have no idea what im looking at.

there are certain truths we hold to be evident:

monkey's can learn to smoke cigarettes and have attachment issues.

usually your guts are right until the day they fester and or get pumped/pummeled.

you should not take sleeping medication with alcohol, even recreational dismal drinks thatyou find corny and ironic but in the end you resign to things like: "im drinking a sparks lite in my room watching married with children from a crazy straw and one part of that straw is a real straw and the other part is a whistle[!]"

I was so swift tonight with the trains. The nyc subway system and I have had a long relationship spannnning time that always winds up with me looking at my watch yet reluctant to leave my freaks whom I've come to feel a comaraderie with as we speed through hellish sooty tunnels.
I had to meet Ian for a movie. [BORAT]
Was it a date if I didn't pay him for the ticket because I forgot? We laugh at naked men..... maybe thats not a date but our everlasting bond in pervisity of nude wrestling and jangles.

Which reminds me[.]... Last night I went to pete's candy store and dan walked in dressed like
long john silver. yellow slicker, black beard. he had a pipe too.
Earlier, Fai saw her first nyc rats [is that possible, how has she never seen rats? its the
stereotype everyone loves [along with junkies lying over the hoods of cars or something: see jason number 9.. the one with the nyc opening]?

We saw a couple break up in a pizza place. It was tragic. bro, go home and do that. Maybe their
house burnt down and thats why they were crying and holding eachother. Or maybe they were
breaking up after their apt burnt down.

WELL after a whole lotta walking around [i was bouncing at one point, the polar states of my
personality were in high gear...] we all got home somehow. [read:my car] 3 brrws.

Today- Dan told me that after 3am last night he got the shit kicked out of him and woke up in
the White Plains hospital. What to say? Sorry dan. I woulda taken out my earrings and thrown
down if it were a just cause. at least they didnt stab you. right? uha...uhhh..ha. next time
dont leave your fake beard at the bar so you can go to p-chase incognito. Quote: "at one time i ripped out the iv and i was like fuck this....bleeding everywhere and i pretended to go to the bathroom when a nurse stopped me and i got on a bus right outside."

This blogging sure is fun. Usually all this stuff just wads up to decompose.

im retiring.

2006-11-09T00:26:00.000-05:00

just wait
ing
for the knees to subside into the strict
funtions they had:
once said,
look at the way that mouth munches into the own mush
of its teeth.
exercised with apple jacks, some sugar roasted gum sand,
which is harder than sleeping.

i only eat swallow. i only eat swallow! i pant sweating from my tongue,
wags a clockwork mantlepiece.
ahhh gilded words.

i gave up spelling, i would sit there silently finding skin to check on replacing my drink into the exact rings it had made on the antique wood. oh, how i longed for the wood to be beated into paper so i could write. if only this jail cell were steel paper.

a healthy cramping of style.

2006-10-26T21:25:00.000-05:00

white people robbing white people in williamsburg.
--------------

Today I received an extraordinary gift from a woman I've really bonded with for about seven months. She gave me some jewelery her husband had had made for her by hand before he passed away. I couldn't do anything but drink tea with her and thank her. I couldn't decline the gift either. With all of the stories she's told me about life in Germany and raising her children, I've become close with her in a way I never thought was possible. I gave up calling her by her American name and I just call her grandma like the kids. I'm not supposed to tell her son that she gave it to me. I wont. I told my mother. My mother asked if I had cried.
No.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"imagine how my father felt... resorting finally to the belt...."HV.
constantly stuck in my head. its the new republic of rough and ready.

Vlad the impaler dipped his bread in the blood of his victims and barely chewed. Vladracula.

earth angels:
rainbow chalk
pony mountain
sugar squaw
intellectual color cheese wheel
black & white cookie: an interracial, sweet marriage.

club foot: some kinda lump life.

tales from the six train:
1.
things are pretty okay,
i read my book,
look
down
see pointy shoes
and finally when
i look up
i see they are merry mariachi singers.

2.
lets rob these people
no
okay
so how old is charisse anyway?
i dont know 14...15?
i really dont know man
but uhuh
you know
old enough to give a nigga a blow job
why you got two houses?
fuck she got no... you know
hunts point.
fuck you, i live in the projects;
she dont even know.
----

i have cold toes, warm hands, lukewarm feeling and a set life of uneven slate sidewalks to catch my footing on.

clean bills; the drycleaned dollar.

2006-10-19T23:02:00.000-05:00

you were fucked up in beauty
the thread of confusing red string wrung round your lips in a dark
temperate
flux.
and i was there holding the pivets and hollows of my knees
bending my fingers back
and retracting my every word
no
extracting it.
this was the way i was.

i was the first of the fruit to fall
and be handed
amongst men,
amongst the crowds.
and there was a shush
and
my personal fables were quiet.

and there was a humm
and my inviible audience was on
that string.

tied to my finger,
these reminders. dedicating words
to the lights as they faint from exhaustion.

my neck just this source of strength. to hold my head up. this pride compromised like a kneadable eraser. these days like a gift,
each. and where are we putting them?
behind us. watching us walk away.
this.
the way it should be. man creation of the pocketwatch;
the way it was.

my small percent shows: GHOST!

2006-10-11T15:20:00.000-05:00

fushion ticket:

1.
make it all thinned out
young and
milked lips.
pulped residual
and a fully fleshed thought
has become condensed
between the vice [sic].

2.
made it all thinned out
young,
milking lips;
pulps. residual,
out full flesh
condensed between
a thoughtful vise.

3.
lips milked thin.
chewing the pulpy edges,
residual flesh.
i thought,
oh yes,
how condensed,
saliva concentrated.

4.
fleshed out lips
caught in my teeth,
how smooth-
rolling the edge over
my tongue
under the fuzz of saliva.
braking seal
cracking smiles.

well how about that.
Dissecting pens,
insects ink.
therefore touching pink.
i promised.

an incompetant wizards staff. a plane crashed into a building near my school. the dow has recovered after terrorism was ruled out. im not going to class though. my heart caved in around noon today so ive been inserting splintered beams. tomorrow im going to see lukie. i havent seen him or the girls in a long time. i bet he doesnt need to be rocked to sleep anymore. i bet he still needs jazz to stay asleep though. now i will have money for a metro card for friday. i am going to see (the) melvins next week. this will complete my year of seeing my favorite bands. jucifer was almost too much to bear. my bare skull like a marshmallow pillow of slurpee gum. i feel my bones crush and heal constantly.

no larnyx

2006-10-05T23:56:00.000-05:00

i want to sleep with you [under the covers!]
and then we will feel our ankles dissintergrate
and out teeth just mash into tongue putty,
asleep as we were.

there, when we are just on the street and we go single file im
thrilled with the fact you are following me and
thinking this is why we can never leave this greatly elevated train!
look how high we are (7),
and im still showing the signs of self mockery
and rocking back and forth.

i want to be so cool, dont you get it!
we thread each notch and its understood,
this project has been stood up as
we go fucking nuts in hall of messy fights of volume.

you are it! i wish
i knew who you was.
god
it would make things so much
easier.
and id be a grownup to dead.
it would feel like the eggs scraped out of the pan
and you know who eats that
we laugh: BEASTS.
and we relish in our dim lighting and rememberence of supermarkets that are right around the corner. no no not this one. okay okay we are going home. you are coming home with me. we dont even sit next to eachother! i wink at you! this is all fun and games. eventually it ends and im just
SO FUCKING WARM IN BED MYSELF.
get it. every
day
im like
you bitch
you've got this. YOU GOT IT.
im so confused, a
ha

a

HA.

comcast.

2006-09-30T23:37:00.000-05:00

oh good god.
comcast has just hit new york.
after seeing its devastating effect on the west coast a year ago, i can only fear a bigger campaign then verizon could conjur. whats going on?
there's real stuff i could write about.

i never capitalize i-s. when i write papers or use word instead of notepad for the occassional short story that bitch has been tamed to automatically uppercase-size and correct tons of crap for me.

technology.

from my rhodia

2006-09-25T21:41:00.000-05:00

tonight:
" i have to remember to listen to piecemaker [cephalic carnage] whenever i'm feeling especially shitty, unloved or stuck at parkchester on the goddamn <6> [& that diamond means express mind you] traffic bullshit. this late at night everything is in hyper despair and the strange colors of burroughs closing in on you- shooting the train further out and away from the heartcore of light pollution. everything is really silent except for my head and my mouth chewing this gum. the girl across from me has nice eyes. my life has been ruined by the textures of a days flow."

my handwriting is also in a style i havent written in for months.
>>>i imagine being choked by someone i love, feeling the noisy neck vertabrae take on a mutant life in their hands. i know this feeling and have yet to understand the physical aspect. what im saying, i guess; is i want you to choke me FOR REAL so i can have a justified cause and effect in the eyes of some sidewalking god. whenever i banish myself into this rutted, carpeted forest of thick synapses- i get this childish need to listen to that song by nirvana [not released on any album-- i dont think ive even had a conversation about nirvana since high school] called "down in the dark." because feeling light and singy while going into the cliched "pit of despair" has been an aspiration since i watched annie and knew ahead of time that her parents, the Mudges were fucking dead.
sing why dont you.

2006-09-23T12:39:00.000-05:00

alex trebek does not have a real face.
------------------------------------------|
it feels good to get that off my chest.

if my stomach could cry, it would come out my weephole.

2006-09-12T19:16:00.000-05:00

oh im such a failure
i whine
and she tells me the xrays are
fine.

------------------
im on my way. on my way to making things work. everyday i walk out the goddamn door and i think: ah yes, today, to-fucking-day. not looking forward to it as much as knowing
i wont have a chance at today like i did yesterday or will tomorrow.

who am i kissing?
when i lost my main person to kiss, two little girls suddenly trusted me and sometimes when they kiss me i think: "i could cry" and so i make sure the pink in their cheeks is from passion for running and eating and throwing smoothed glass and finding the perfect bug to poke.....
and when i hold their bodies out over the sound, high tide, i let them get sand on their feet. its september and the waters colder but our feet dry, radiating on the concrete.
its warm enough today,
we all understand
about today.

[and its these times i think: PERFECT].

for a girl like you. tails of dead goldfish: monster.

2006-09-09T19:59:00.000-05:00

ive been wearing my ipod down more now than ever. at home while writing papes [for reference i didnt miss the r: i call them papes like payps... wait maybe i'll just spell it payps....]

i just have a lot of time on the six and walking.
yesterday i walked sixty blocks downtown.
my friend ian was hiding behind a tree and popped out at me. we decided to go to a bar. i felt bad over his lack of consumption- he had said my salad - in green wrap - had looked "too green."
we were standing around, the music was changing, i was looking at a james dean cutout...
and then i said: "do you want to go to japan" or "DO YOU WANT TO GO TO JAPAN"
and he said: "yeah, why..."
i said: "me too, thats all...."

later i saw mastodon and converge. [sold out] it was pretty good. well mastodon was. my friend bret drove me home, which was nice.

today there was a pool party at my co-op. our style is to bring down a desert, steal as much food as possible, and eat it upstairs with no one being the wiser to our lack of presence. i guess someone noticed, as our camp is not "slick." we smooth over the situation with cookies from this place in the bronx that is...."to die for."

i want to travel again but its just not possible. someone who i like please lets go somewhere remote, okay? fund it... alright? i was dreaming of ameoba records. i was lost in a pile of out of print stuff and had vinyl in my teeth. i had their whole residents collection.....[it is nyuge].

well,
im going to try to see joe lally tuesday. problem is i forget things. the knitting factory. efk. its like ive lived there for years, only difference is now i dont smoke and drink openly on the street. the last part is a complete lie.

doe/doe.

glass breathing to break.

2006-09-04T23:43:00.000-05:00

ive been gone
son,
its been minutes
between chewing my tongue
and ripping the webbing underneath
to stick it out farther
and roll the air up
into my throat
causing the lump
i save for a different time.

"deafening volumes"

2006-08-31T14:40:00.000-05:00

i wrote this on july fourth. i came across it today and it nearly doubled me over. i know now that i should always listen to what i've written because i never lie in journal format.
the last part is sickeningly significant, as the absence of something that was significant was about to be initiated. it was titled: deafening volumes [which is why i never found it- it wasnt dated].
tomorrow is september. haha i made it to september; fuck!
oh- this is unedited- obviously.

speaks defeaning volumes on the expense of actual work.
define work
breathing is work
and its 24 hours a day. without work there would be no life and so begins the drive to increase our wealth of living through work.
more oxygen im saying,
always more oxygen.

to let someone know you are unhappy is a confidence given up freely by the bosses of their own destiny. that indescribeably small chance of pre figured and curved future. something with meat on its bones;
headed for the slaughter. cured with salt.
im cured with salt [>] and my oceanic endorsements are limited to the before and after colors concerning wet rocks. step right up. the sun is expiring what light is left in the palms of children who litter the coast.

all ill remember if i ever fall asleep without my blood mutating on its way to my brain,
is the soft hands of a stranger
and innocent blonde concrete tearing my knees to shreds as a child.
maybe not the conrete as much as picking the scabs with some methodical anger when i needed to see real blood. before i was allowed to watch television after 7. before i came across books where hymens were torn, dragons were slain and used tampons were strewn about public restrooms.
soon blood was boring and thats pretty much
when my blood tests became crucial and frequent.

i was swollen with the birth of my body rejecting itself into a new life form alien to the status given to my brain. i thought about how people had no legs and were happy. i was ashamed but i was then crying for all of us. this tactic turned rotton inside out and was showing up on my skin as hives of worry.

-------
now i am feeling the closed in labyrinth a speck of dust must feel after being disturbed and resettled in a spot next to its old one. in the same vicinity, the same colors, the same lighting, the characters have alternated but ultimately the scale of movement is being harshly and progress was better made working,
breathing, 24 hours.

what do i do now with a person who cant use that information. cant give me feedback. i have such a negative feeling about the future of things---lacking any radiant features---lacking compromise, comprehension, commitment.
what to do when love has become such a falling failing frightening force.
fuck.

and then fight.

not dead just sleeeeeeeping.

2006-08-28T19:34:00.000-05:00

now all i want is for the 3.50 flip flops to hold up
until the cold drops
-right to make the ground freeze.

im anxious to see what this week brings.
i got a great book yesterday--> there had been a mild book crisis two hours prior to its purchase.
today i had a vagina talk with a four year old
[shes sharp as a tack that one]-
i need to step out into the sleep, [im appalled at the way
i've been scratching at my face in excitement].

kingsform

2006-08-25T17:02:00.000-05:00

scratched knox's armpit today-rolling on ecstacy he was mrowing.
i spilled this wacky costco drink inside my mothers car
annnd i bought granola.
since things are kicking up once again i have decided to recruit drew to make dinner with me tonight. my brother has the attention span of a faulty eraser.
last night i drank wine with fai's family and mike at their digs in elmsford. i ate some crazy peruvian stuff. when i go back up to vermont i must make fai prepare spicy cracker sauce!
which reminds me:
henry ford, along with the help of a distant cousin- made the little charcoal patties that many people barbeque with. "kingsford charcoal." the history channel is meant for insomniacs like me. i have yet to meet anyone who has also seen "the history of concrete."

trim that minge

2006-08-22T22:51:00.000-05:00

pop your [hip]bones back convex!
[very recent]
there are some faces of

yours

i always had and it was
funny when it was new on you.
im finding the good in between the cracks of peoples lips-
anywhere really.
i think my quest to "find the good" came after i realized
good
is not cured by protecting the selfishness of oneself with silence.
i wanted to look good for you. i wanted you to think my mouth was beautiful and capable of being what it always was- ahead of itself: delerious.
[recent past]
"are you okaye"?
i laughed through my spine and bloomed peaches out of my eyes,
dilating the pits.
"YEAH IM OKAYE. HAHAHAH". [is this what wounded soldiers reluctant say when they dont want someone in their platoon to carry them out of the firestorm]?
i was not in denial of these three thousand thrusted truths rooted in my trusty palm.
[current]
feeling alone is precious. you and a glass of milk and being in your underwear and a long sleeved tshirt in airconditioning with the perfect blankets that have sustained more writhing in restless torment than most [polled recently: assoiciated press].

kaye knox has been sleeping in dresser drawers like black and white movies always suggested. we're really a throwback to silent films in this house because the noise is deafening.

sun warms the third, we've come in first.

2006-08-13T13:31:00.000-05:00

you are too nice.

im thinking
this is whats most important finding out who this guy is
or to have a bio on him.
or i was thinking about perfume and the wonderful substance of scent
transformed on skin..

oh becks,
i dont care, of course i just want to
go somewhere with you
and when are we leavin?

oh becks,
that sounds so great
it sounds so happy.

rebecca: this too shall pass.

like everything with the foam crowns of legal leopards,
i too have lept with blinding trust,
blind trust
for all i see is this small space
and it expands as i grow deeper into it.

ohhhhhh i was with leta and we were in this house where fathers put on cufflinks. and mothers skirts graze knees with rushed scuffing-
she was eating some shredded carrot and it was hard to ignore the creaks of the sounding fathoms, wooden floors; the house.

someone was setting off camera flashes. eventually i held her tight as she was getting fatter in my arms.
someone had come to kidnap her,
torture me: declare ransom, and
steal, steal, steal.

in the begining, sun shone through the windows.

Salads [or

2006-07-14T15:21:00.000-05:00

give the baby his bottle].

Few things bring me closer to the state of readiness than the ability to assess the waking light as unattainable. Suddenly I sit on the edge of an eclipse, outrunning a boulder, constructing my hang glider in hopes of going-fast barefoot with the vastness of valleys-cut muscles and upper boy/body strength.

I quit my job and have never been so [pre –s]sure of something. There are lists of all sorts concerning the category: “spending my time deconstructing this sprouting life was unsatisfactory”. Factory. One can only handle the difference of huge personality subtractions for so long. Many situations occurred in which I was the forerunner of a poorly designed immoral game. There was no volume for me to suspend thoughts in. there was no outlet for everything that got muted in English.

I could climb outside myself and pound on the walls and the sneering echo of defeat would lick all the corners of the triumphant all-mighty dollar. The very perforation stubbing his toes inside the temperatures wrenched. I wasn’t comfortable on my high rusting rung of retired respect. Kick myself out by the shirt collar, stray dark red hairs stuck to my neck and blood sopped cheeks. I was unified to the controlled tension in my lips. You can’t comprehend the march of startled controlled lemons on personal assignment.

- I quit my job.

My mother and I went to Viva Farm and picked out fruits [and for the first time, together, a pineapple]. Imported Korean candy, milked jell-o’z, pungent thick herbs lined the air conditioned section. I ate a nectarine and didn’t pay for it. I started to feel weird about eating the whole fruit to the pit and throwing it behind the car and returning to the line for checkout.

I have had the smell of fruits coming from my vagina ever since I got my period. It is not entirely unpleasant just something I’ve never experienced. I wont entertain the though of fruit of my womb. That’s unnecessary.

I’m leaving for Vermont tomorrow with Fai. Iv’e not been there in a year. I am supposed to come up with something brilliant due to the change of location. That’s a lot of pressure. I can tell you that I was in Poughkeepsie yesterday and fell in love with the moldings on each rusting stone efface. The streets were very empty. I think that allowed me to feel a perfect absence akin to a photograph. Gave my eyes screwable filters. I’m staying away from Mount Vernon until I am forced to go back. The things I was forced to do under the pretense of employment… walking those streets in misery and heat. Just so, just so.

The other day I was warned about chlorine burns and I noticed my fingers were gone. Today I was warned about distracting people who are holding knives. Yesterday I was cautioned to maintain my structural innocence but I’ve decided that was bad advice.

snake handlers for god

2006-07-08T23:49:00.000-05:00

recapping the memories of swigging from the lime bottles:

dirty hair. it's got: long, thick, uncut, hard to manage now. i wash with vigor, its all getting better.
my pee bottle is still in the npz. i hope no one drank from it even though i washed it. a brief look: here.
i spent the whole day waking up. i dont know whats wrong. my blood never came back. fai is coming back. i am going to hug her and then i am going to get on a plane and fly to greece. well i would but you know... the job: proof.
i like stupid bunnies and im [not] ashamed to admit that the sight of bunnies in the "wild" [note----more wildlife in nyc than one would think] sends me into some kind of instinctual frenzy. last night i saw a bear and a moose on my lawn and could barely plug in the electricity. plenty of dragonflies showing there lisa frank colors--- and wasps will forever be spitting their junk juice in the crap hives in between my windows--- i actually think its very pretty. yellow jackets, wasps, hornets, beeeeez, they are nice from a distance.
bumble bees i could just eat.
my neighbors will have to get used to the sight of my cannibal corpse tshirt interrupting their margaritaville club parties and let me swim in peace.
friday was hectic, i almost fainted. i went in early because we're getting ready to show. man im good. its going to be sad when i say peace out- but then again ive said that a million times and i keep crawling back to the slaughterhouse.
the thing i like best about my bathroom upstate is the relatively cool bathroom. i can sit on the toilet and rest my head on the cool sink. its calming. i dont even have to be using the toilet... and there is a second door right next to the bathroom that swings out---albeit into the heart of the wasp nest, but still.

a way to gague something.

2006-07-05T15:46:00.000-05:00

2006-03-15T00:21:00.000-05:00

i blame the cloud cover
for the ring slipping in and out of
the dark.

i can't leave you behind
to glow hot next to the space heater
without me in between.

2005-06-05T01:31:00.000-05:00

face paint. car accident. not sure if we've predicted ourselves. good job microwave; yeah i will enjoy. anduh, i secretely thank people behind their backs.

convinced reckless abandonment of stamped logic.

2005-05-31T00:33:00.000-05:00

victories like weighing a feather against a heart. in my case the feather lighter advance to next round of mumification.

31a142

2004-09-03T12:00:00.000-05:00

uh oh. i spilled tea all over the inside of my car and my sketchahwad. it smells okay though rusty and sick. yeah this is the type of thing that happens in my life. i am not even at the point today where i can coffee myself.

2004-08-29T13:33:00.000-05:00

elijah wood grew up short. it wasnt my fault.
i got my shoes back i drank and i watched people slam into their convictions. i saw big a little a, we left i had a piece of ice from the freezer and then everything steadied off of astoria blvd.

thx