Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Marty Kruczynski's LiveJournal:

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Monday, May 25th, 2009
8:51 pm	Her hair was like fire, and little points of fire were in her eyes, and I went and Father lifted me into the chair too, and Caddy held me. She smelled like trees. I could hear it getting night, and my hands saw the slipper but I couldn't see myself, but my hands could see the slipper, and I squatted there, hearing it getting dark. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, March 10th, 2007
11:13 am	the world's got a nosebleed, it said, and we're flooding but we keep on cutting trees and forests i seem to be in a state of perpetual coldness. my feet and my nose always feel like they're ten degrees below the allotted temperature for feet and noses. it's a never-ending discomfort but i'm learning to deal. i have a revamped curiosity in history and the sciences because the whole love affair with language and the human condition is only as interesting as its context. my plans for the future become more flexible each day, but i am not sure this is a negative thing. for me, the concept of love is surrounded by more questions than definitions, and i spend more time dwelling on what the damn word actually means than seeking it out its presence in reality. probably a negative thing, but as always, i am a work in progress, and therefore reluctant to document my ideas at any given moment in time because at the next moment my cells will probably regenerate and i will become a completely new entity all over again. crazy. times in cleveland only seem to get more and more fond as time goes by. it's still the same old story, a fight for love and glory da da da, da da da. i mean, ( there was this day ) ( and then i saw TV on the Radio ) but anyway, to the story...  once upon a time, nick and i are bored. it's about 11:30 and we don't really know where anyone is, sooo we decide to drive to cleveland.   oooh! great idea. so we drive and drive and drive and though many times we think we are about to die or take the wrong turn or basically get horribly lost, lo and behold, we arrive safely in cleveland after a few intuitively perfect navigating decisions. YAY. now these pictures are all pretty blurry but please just deal with it because we were really excited and my camera sucks. so, as i was saying, cleveland. we drove around downtown for a while just looking at everything and all the people. cleveland seems slightly cooler than pittsburgh because people are actually still alive in the early hours of the morning in their downtown. our oakland is cooler than their college part, but in downtown pittsburgh everything closes at like ten and everybody goes home or goes to the southside. in cleveland though, downtown was still so exciting at two am. after walking around for like ten minutes, we come across this really cool veteran's memorial, very big and right in the middle of everything. somehow sort of holy, so naturally, i take lots of pictures.  THEN, we come across these people doing an eight-day vigil in the middle of downtown to protest the war. they are pretty cool, we talk for a while and they are amazed that nick and i have driven there on the spur of the moment and end up at their vigil. they think it's an act of providence. so the guy leading it tries to ask me some questions with a mic and camera to put on his tv station. i get nervous and bail, but it is ok.  they give me this big sign that says OUT OF IRAQ with a catchy stop sign thing on the back (see below) and a bunch of propaganda, which i promise to take back to youngstown. along with pictures of their stuff. the world that made us can no longer contain us and profits are silent...   so i'm walking around with this obnoxious OUT OF IRAQ sign and this adorable flaming corporate grad student stops us right outside of the renaissance hotel.  he assumes that nick and i are hippie protestors and starts asking me for literature that he can read. he's funny, drunk, and gay and thinks that nick and i are dating, haha. he's in the middle of giving a homeless man like ten dollars but he gives me his email address to send him my "hippie literature" because he misses being in college and walking around with angry, loud, subversive signs. he's cute, we tell him we are about to start back home and reprimands us for not doing anything else exciting.  nick asks him to direct us towards a party and he tells us we can go up to his room and party, HAHA.  we decline, which is unfortunate; i guess he was too short for nick. luckily, a lot of cool shit happened to us. and we had lots of fun. fin. (6 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, January 2nd, 2007
3:28 am	why are we contented only in ecstasy?   I'll lay down my glasses I'll lay down in houses If things come alive I'll subtract pain by ounces Yeah, I will start painting houses If things come alive I promise to commit no acts of violence Be it physical or otherwise If things come alive I'll say it now I'll say it now Say it now Oh I'll say it now Cause I want it now When personality is scar tissue It travels south with this use I'm subtle like a lion's cage Such a cautious display Remember take hold of your time here Give some meanings to the means To your end Not even jail you know, i have not had a minute's peace to think in the past several months. but maybe i'm ready to wrestle with some wisdom if i can. and be stubborn. i haven't been stubborn in about a year. i haven't been adament, belligerent, or completely sure of what i want to do in well over a year. i haven't written in my journal for a while. i've missed it. things have gotten terribly complicated, which for me is not so great because i like to think about big things in simple terms. big things like life and the future, and refining my own vision of the world; with or without the possibility of god and love and whether or not i am a foolish and selfish girl for wanting certain things to be real (including the two aforementioned luxuries).  i will give you one brief example as a starting point for explanation. my house. my house is a two-story building which caught on fire a little over a year ago. last year's christmas was spent in the living room of a very charitable person with a few gifts bought by very charitable people. i think my parents might have gotten me a book or two, but in view of the circumstances, not much else besides something small could be bought for myself, my sisters, my brother and parents. i had absolutely no problem with this, whatsoever. i actually loved relocating, i loved being without everything, i loved having to deconstruct and start from scratch. getting back to the basics is actually the best way to get myself centered. my mother used to get really upset when she would see that i just didn't care that we had to move out, live somewhere else, depend upon the kindness of others for a little bit, and do without the comforts of our own home. i only had about 1/4 of my clothes, we only bought the food we needed, and i LOVED that for a few months we lived in basic and total simplicity. everyone around us wanted to help. people were wonderful and giving. i was in love with them and i was happy. my family was safe. i was happy to be alive and happy to be jostled out of the glazed comfort of a beginning senior year. when we moved back in, i was just okay with it. everyone else was so happy to have our home back, and i was the weird one who didn't care. i'm not saying this to sound saintly or above the rest of my family. please understand, i'm trying to relate a feeling. a wonderful feeling of detachment from material things which actually heightened my sensibilities of everything else. thoughts, emotions, aesthetics; EVERYTHING abstract became so much more real. only the most important things mattered and the world put on a fresh new coat of color. there was this lotion that i would use every day on my hands when i got ready for school each morning. it was supposed to be unscented but it actually had this clean sort of smell. i stopped using it for some reason when we moved back into our house, but then i recently found a bottle in my sister's room and put it on my hands and smelling it made me remember what it felt like to get ready for school on mornings where i fought discontent and disappointment with a relentless vengeance. i was so alive i did not care about much else except living my life and keeping the sensitive skin on my hands from cracking. but now, like i said before, things are getting horrendously complicated. my house is no longer a building because it's been remodeled in layers of sentimental value already. my clothes are no longer just clothes. my friends are no longer people to whom i can say goodbye without feeling something well up inside me and my parents are no longer tyrants trying to stand between me and freedom. my parents look tired. and older, in a resigned, passive sort of way. i have now seen my father cry for the first time on the morning of december 25th, 2006. in horror, i watched him fight a stream of tears and excuse himself to go to the bathroom after packing up his guitar and seeing the rest of my family get teary when people started trying to console us about our grandmother. she had passed away early that morning after living at our house and getting taken care of by my parents. now she is gone, my sister moved out of the house with my beloved nephew, i'm going back to school, nadia always looks sad, and my parents always look tired and uncertain. they are used to chaos and responsibility. being relied upon by at least four other people at a time. i can tell, they've lost something. Suddenly, all your history's ablaze Try to breathe as the world disintegrates Just like autumn leaves, we're in for change Holding tenderly to what remains And all your memories are as precious as gold And all the honey and the fire which you stole Have you running through all your red cheek days Shaking loose these songs from their sacred hiding space i feel like i need to get away, but i don't want to leave. for the first time, i am not itching and excited to go back to school. i will be leaving for pittsburgh tomorrow to move back into my dorm and i'm aching all over like never before.  on those nights when we would argue about evolution and the proper way to be happy, i'd run outside swearing that whenever i got the chance to leave, i would not hesitate to stay away for as long as i needed. i always promised myself that for all those days and nights of feeling trapped and bullied, that i would absolutely have to leave, indefinitely, because all the guilt i'd felt for simply feeling differently was payment enough for not coming back. i love to leave, i love to walk away, walk away. it's who i am. all of my life, the future has always been infinitely appealing, the thought of being self-reliant and independent has always been a glorious one. now everything around me is glittering with sad golden meaning and familiarity, and i sit here entranced by it. i'm getting soft, guys, and it's scarier than anything. we don't stand a chance in this threadbare time. "kathy i'm lost," i said, though i knew she was sleeping. i'm empty and aching and i don't know why. stories about my ancestors bring tears to my eyes. things are weighted, heavy. i used to not care about a thing and now i feel the reaction to every action taking its toll. causality is quite a bitch. i fell in love again. all things go, all things grow. i made a lot of mistakes. new years was wonderful, which ironically might have made things worse. haha.  someone should have told me that falling asleep on people and waking up to morning streaks through the sky creates an unavoidable kind of attachment, even if you didn't mean to do it, and you have run to your car in a blind panic and forget everything but your keys, coat, and cell phone. it's all stuck somewhere in that closed casket flowers so perfectly arranged in a wicker basket remind us of how you loved open fields, how you lived with your violins and letters from long-lost relatives those old black and white photos bleached by the sun show your fly-away hair and wild flowers where you'd run in tall grass before your tall sons and daughters came and from the first born on, nothing stayed the same but your soft smile in those bleached black and whites stayed with you all your life until the solemness of last rites it's stuck between the folds of this old dress waves of fabric intertwine like waves of sound coming from that old piano that matched the set of dressers and cabinets carved by your father who came to america, sailing alone across the sea a new language, a new life beginning a legacy of women swimming across borders amid bullets and empty buckets floating calmy next to crowded boats rejecting passengers, separating loves, and rewriting lives i still have a lot of heroes. Oh but all this to learn and your hair's so free Can't you feel all the warmth of my sincerity You make motion when you cry You're making peoples lives feel less private Don't take time away You make motion when you cry We all hold hands Can we all hold hands When we make new friends I pretend like no one else To try to control myself I'm sort of like a lion's cage Such a cautious display Remember take hold of your time here Give some meanings to the means To your end Not even jail (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, October 21st, 2006
8:01 pm	it's a lullaby, from a giant golden radio Time it was  And what a time it was, It was A time of innocence, A time of confidences  ( Bookends )   Long ago, it must be I have a photograph Preserve your memories They're all that's left you  p.s. "...the books we need are the kind that act upon us like a misfortune, that make us suffer like the death of someone we love more than ourselves, that make us feel as though we were on the verge of suicide, or lost in a forest remote from all human habitation - a book should serve as the ax for the frozen sea within us." - KAFKA (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, October 3rd, 2006
5:37 pm	i am tired but my heart is true. "I like too many things and get all confused and hung up running from one falling star to another till I drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion." - mr. jack kerouac, you ought to know My favorite songs today are no cars go and bridges and balloons. i've almost always concentrated on lyrics more than instrumental quality, but "no cars go" by the arcade fire is more about the latter for me. the lyrics are pretty simple, but so appropriate for the feel of the song. but god this song doesn't even need lyrics, it's that good. i listen to bridges and balloons for the lyrics and the silliness. i think she only uses a harp. it's wonderful. either the original by joanna newsom (if you're tolerant with singing that's...different) or the cover by the decemberists. so grand. and she's beautiful. We sailed away on a winter's day With fate as malleable as clay But ships are fallible, I say And the nautical, like all things, fades and I Can recall our caravel: A little wicker beetle shell With four fine maste and lateen sails Its bearings on Cair Paravel Oh my love Oh it was a funny little thing To be the ones to've seen The sight of bridges and balloons Makes calm canaries irritable And I caw and claw all afternoon Catenaries and dirigibles Brace and buoy the living-room A loom of metal, warp woof wimble And a thimblesworth of milky moon Can touch hearts larger than a thimble Oh my love Oh it was a funny little thing To be the ones to've seen Oh my love Oh it was a funny little thing It was a funny funny little thing  as of right now, i am still an eternally loving human being. i try to keep it consistently clean, but i feel like i'm losing focus please please please don't let me start coasting backwards.  sometimes i think i know too much and feel too little.  do you ever get scared that your dreams are just too big to allow you to bear reality when it finally smacks you upside the head? i might delete this, especially if my mood changes. no worries, okay? i am too much. (12 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, September 29th, 2006
2:56 am	he decided that he would live forever or die trying i am re-reading catch 22. i have way too many things to say, and it's making me uncharacteristically subdued. last night i saw the special advanced screening for a movie called "the science of sleep". i loved it. it was so trippy and adorable, and seemed to fill the voids where eternal sunshine was somewhat lacking. okay, i know our generation has this thing with protagonizing bipolar artsy types and glorifying them, and we make allowance after allowance for their unrealistic eccentricities and their idealistic, unreachable love until you want to throw something at them, BUT this one. this film. is kindergarden. and shows both the good and bad effects of distorting reality for imagination's sake. there's a strange honesty in the unrealistic approach, because the crazy things that the character thinks and dreams about are exactly the sort of things that you accidentally think about every day, even if you mentally smack yourself afterwards. (i just made up a word called "protagonizing") tell you what... you let me know if you want me update on my college experience, okay? if no one does, that is fine and i will spend my time on more reasonable undertakings. it's hard because this time i'm afraid i'll end up with a novel on my hands just with everything from the last month or two. i could tell many stories. they include: - a social phenomenon which occurs at pitt university every friday night at 11:00 known as "friday night improv." - walking through oakland late enough to be very early, seeing a drug deal - adventures through downtown, station square, southside, squirrel hill, east liberty, etc. - the warhol museum - running into suzi on the street! - riding the bus - my sort-of best friend named kate who is driven, organized and outgoing. i know, it is crazy. she also only has one hand. - my theatre group, my "random acts of theatre" class and learning fight choreography - how many times i've gotten utterly lost around town, and how wonderful it was every time - my classes and classmates why do i make a list every single time i post? i numbered those from 1-10 until i realized that i pretty much do that every single time i write something on here. can i think coherently without lists? analyze me. Note the trees because The dirt is temporary More to mine than fact face Name and monetary Beat the skins and let the Loose lips kiss you clean Quietly pour out like light Like light, like answering the sun  the buildings at our school all look like old churches. the professors are like eccentric parents and grandparents. i am in the one-acts at our school. one of them is called "tarrantino variation." most of it is a play off of reservoir dogs. yeah, i know. reservoir dogs. yeah, i KNOW. i wrote this thing about plato's "the myth of the cave" a long time ago. nick reminded me of it and so i went and found it. i think it might be bad, but i'm not sure. if it's too intense or crazy or you don't get it, wait till you take a philosophy class or two. i don't know. i might work with it a bit.  ( the myth of the cave ) i am changing so much.  i think it's a good thing. it might be okay to stay a seven-year-old until 18 years of age, but after that it's kind of unacceptable. i'm trying not to waste my opportunities, taking the city by storm to the best of my ability. i feel like i owe it to something, but i don't know to what. it's something weird and abstract like youth or privelege or the world in general. remember how mrs. patterson always used to say, "stop feeling guilty. you haven't done enough to feel guilty about anything"- well i don't feel guilty about really anything these days. i'm strangely open to suggestion.  it's funny that i can quote pretty much her exact words on every subject except spanish. but thanks phyllis, it meant a lot. speaking of good teachers, i've fallen in love again. haHA! everyone of you is shaking his or her head upon reading this. everything's an experience, an opportunity, a test. i'm on a quest to find some freethinking because it makes me feel like more of a participating human being.  i want to end up like a city telephone poll with stapled posters and fliers, a old brick wall scribbled with graffiti. i want announcements proclaiming my coming of age to fill the empty spaces between my neurons;  the words experience, exposure, participation, struggle, understanding and MOVEMENT scribbled microscopically on the surface of my skin. do you want to know when i feel most comfortable? most at home? it's that moment when i set my foot over the border of the carlow university property, when i'm leaving the campus to go do something. it's on the bus. walking on the street. sitting in a bookstore. smiling and occasionally conversing with strangers. dirty alleyways. shady characters. street savants. i feel like i'm where i'm supposed to be.  there are downsides of course: -i really dislike being surrounded by females ALL THE FUCKING TIME -i hate the showers -my speech class sucks but i am okay. this borderland world turns like a dying clock and i am strangely centered in organized uncertainty. i do things on purpose to make myself uncomfortable sometimes because i want to figure out what i can and cannot handle? everything is accelerated. every day is jam-packed. i am always so reluctant to go back (home...?). it makes me feel terrible when i think about it, but it's true. i was never one to readily miss the discomforts of home. i love my family, but i really like it here. plus i don't have a room at my house anymore, so it doesn't feel like mine. i've gone home only once so far, and i sort of just felt like a visitor...it might have just been the room thing. but does anybody else have that feeling? my roomate is very goal oriented. i learned from one of our mutual friends that as soon as i am gone she is going to make up goal sheets for me and stick them all over my wall. she is going to buy gold stickers and put them up every time i finish a goal. you think i am joking. ha. i am not. she is going to attack my side of the room and organize it alphabetically and by color.  i have class in four hours. it is a little after three in the morning. on friday morning. kate and i just rode the bus from downtown after seeing some kind of broadway benefit thing from the cast of spam-a-lot. let me tell you a little story called "hanging out with nick after midnight" where he's usually pretty useless about being protective and making sure you're not walking by yourself. oh well. kate had her pepper spray out and we almost blinded a kind man who told us where to find the right bus back to oakland. two slobbering drunk guys got on shortly thereafter and then followed us when we got off, of course. luckily they were too drunk to be any harm. one tried to pretend to fall on us but his friend grabbed him and starting shoving him down a different street.  i don't know. i miss you. i hope you all are okay. coming home probably tomorrow and definitely for one-acts. (9 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, June 6th, 2006
10:47 pm	the boy who only drew frogs hi guys. guess what? i'll tell you: 1. i have an 8-5 job. i'm trying not to let it eat me alive. 2. certain songs, no matter where, no matter when, are so deeply engraved into my emotional core that i'm bombarded by the exact same feelings every time i hear them. this phenomenon only applies to a select few, though. i like it. 3. i've decided to post prom pictures from about 6 months ago. 4. seeing pretty much any member of the sauline/coulter/duda family makes me explode with happiness, so i'd like it to happen as often as possible in the near future. please? scratch that i also want to see jimmy, kelli, steph, amanda, maggie, nick, justin, meaghan, jon, erika, and everyone else as much and as soon as possible if you'll let me.  definitely come to my graduation party on july 15th and bring sleeping bags. i really have a lot to tell you. ( the world is too much with us )shit i've talked about this job too much. tell me if it looks like it's crushing me, okay?  i'm daring it to do it's worst so that i breed thicker skin. anyway. i'm graduated. with my lightning bolts a-glowin', i can see where i am goin'. college. come sooner. independence. hurry up. bleary-eyed self-revelations. i cannot wait. i'm missing some people already, but really i can't wait get out there. out there, living in the sun. get all tattered and torn, forgive the world for its sharp edges. stand on my tippy toes and peer over its ledges. i will forget myself. i will remember you. Red: [narrating] I find I'm so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it's the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend, and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope.  i hope, i hope, i hope. i actually had a blast at our dinner dance thing. crazed dancing is fun. as are dance-offs between people with awkward bodies.  the best part was getting weird, unexpected compliments from people like zeke, mike bartos, and nick baker for my speech at baccalaureate. i forgot to turn in a lot of my assignments and might have failed some of my finals, but got into the top ten for the semester...in theory. haha. i don't deserve school. i loved everyone by the end of it, though. even if it took four years. dan and justin still owe me ten dollars because those wankers thought that i would cry. pssh. seriously. i will follow this feeling to the ends of the earth. self-reliance.  i have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations. I'm addressing you. Are you going to let our emotional life be run by Time Magazine? I'm obsessed by Time Magazine. I read it every week. Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candystore. I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library. It's always telling me about responsibility. Businessmen are serious. Movie producers are serious. Everybody's serious but me. It occurs to me that I am America. I am talking to myself again. after all it is you and i who are perfect and not the next world. your machinery is too much for me. you made me want to be a saint. there must be some other way to settle this argument. oh yeah, i almost forgot: ( i know so many lovely people ) really these days all i want to do is go to the drive-in and lay atop someone's car like we sometimes did when we were little, with blankets and the radio blasting the soundtrack and dialogue out the windows. one horrible side-effect of growing up is that you can't sit on top of people's cars without leaving atrocious ass-prints. what a downer. speaking of downers, i made this playlist of four hours of soft, sad, beautifully humble, bold and wise songs. it sings me to sleep and wreaks havoc on my internal stability. it's grand. Well welcome back race fans it's Cavalcade sport time again. Here at the jamboree, Home of the hits. (How you doing Bob?) It's the last stretch And my heart.. my heart stays in the lead And we see first, second behind my heart is my mind Third behind my mind is my body Fourth behind my body is my soul. And my heart staaays in the leead. Coming around the stretch.. (Ah, uh, that was a good one, Bob.) And rounding here is... my heart And come second behind my heart is my mind Third behind my mind is my body Fourth behind my body is my soul My heart staaaays in the leeead.... give us a call let us know you're still alive. thanks bye. (24 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, April 22nd, 2006
11:56 pm	MAN GROWS USED TO EVERYTHING, THE SCOUNDREL! this will be long. today is april 22nd. a day which will live in infamy. today is far too full of significance and coincidence and hidden things which make my head spin. minutes before 12:00 am on april 23rd, i recalled the significance of april 22nd. good. not enough time to make a fool of myself. today i felt like crying a lot for absolutely no justifiable reason. in fact i can narrow the reason down to only one or all of the following: 1. my phone 2. crime and punishment 3. today was earth day 4. today yesterday was april 22nd you figure it out and let me know. possibly it also has to do with a dream i had last night, which seemed like the most heavenly, god-sent, enlightening dream imaginable, perfect and like there were two warm, soft hands wrapped around my head the whole time. i woke up and thought, "oh my god i have to write this dream down." so i did and spent about an hour filling pages and pages of detailed recollection of this epic dream, only to read it and find that everything sounded trite and cryptic and so much detail and feeling was lost and i was scribbling so furiously that my handwriting was unreadable AND the whole thing really made no sense because FUCK APRIL 22ND, and everything it means to me that i should have forgotten months ago. the center cannot fucking hold, i am in a bad mood, i hate cell phones and i'm glad mine sucks and we are not on speaking terms. cell phones are horrid and so is america and so is menstruation. is that an inappropriate topic?  i want to take a vacuum to my brain and clean it out, start the process of demobilization, easy does it, don't kid yourself just get rid of your problems by ceasing to care, you'll be alright. very little ends up mattering in the long run, but how you've handled things says something about yourself. i was going to eat nothing but organic food because i love earth day but then i realized that eating the earth and using up its resources is a stupidly ironic way to honor today and honoring today is lame anyway because the world shouldn't need a fucking holiday like this oh man listen to how much of a bad mood i am in, it's actually making me laugh a little. so i ate lots of junk. we are out of soy milk anyway and no soy milk plus no oranges plus lots of sweet abstract concepts but no way to possibly express them so that they are stuck and jumbled in my head and soon to be lost makes me want to cry and not be a girl. "have you ever even seen the human heart? it looks like a fist wrapped in blood!" okay no more talk about blood, it's gotta be an inappropriate topic. my mood depends upon the availability of soy milk in our household. if i can't find any in college everything will go to shit. like pretty much everyone in the entire world, i find myself very emotionally attached to the friends/people of my childhood. throughout college i will feel severe emotional attachment to the people who surrounded me as i came of age.  there are things attached to me which will never change, things i find myself always reviewing in hindsight. jimmy hagan eloquently described those things as "hinge points" i believe. HEY that was a good discussion at that pizza place. i had a good time.  i've been on sort of a life rampage. one thing that man told me was to make sure i made my own mistakes and be honest about them. 114 of them will lead you right to the truth. is it better to learn from other people's mistakes or make your own? it always seemed easier to follow good advice, but now i'm tilting in the other direction. what i learn from my own experience seems to be the only thing i can't beat to death with questions. hurting other human beings is my least favorite thing on the entire planet but it keeps happening and making me sick to my stomach because i'm a baby and hate tension.  no, but really i like earth. we're cool.                          ( everything you can imagine is real ) ( MILL CREEK PARK FIRE ) so, okay here's the deal. i know some things: choosing something which enables me to help people is the only way i will ever feel fully alive and happy.  you're not fit to live if there's nothing you're willing to die for. people's emotions of gratitude when you impact their lives are real. sacrifice is real and life-changing. we will save our lives by retaining serenity of spirit, sensitiveness, and pure sincere warmth of heart into old age. it's pretty much a tried and true formula, Dostoevsky swears it's the only way to retain any sort of natural, personal beauty. anyway. get off your ass and keep things moving, you're strong, patient, and brave so its never anything you can't handle. it's already april 23rd. (10 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, March 25th, 2006
3:07 am	the thing that is important is the thing that's not seen "It is just as it is with the flower. If you love a flower that lives on a star, it is sweet to look at the sky at night. All the stars are a-bloom with flowers . . ." "And at night you will look up at the stars. Where I live everything is so small that I cannot show you where my star is to be found. It is better, like that. My star will just be one of the stars, for you. And so you will love to watch all the stars in the heavens . . ." my life is once again a blank page. ohhh man. how ridiculous of me to sit here and put myself through so much bullshit just to realize it meant nothing. well, okay it meant something because i got to see myself just absolutely inflate, and now i'm all stretched out and soft at the edges and it's so, so... everything i hoped for in regards to growing up and feeling old and worn and experienced. experience AND understanding all under my belt for the incredibly low price of my childhood worldview. experience is easy, the hard part is letting go of it but not detaching from it in that perfect balance, but it's the only way for me to go. this recovery has been slow, but it's only because i tried to make it happen so fast that it didn't work out the way i planned, or didn't last for very long because i was in overdrive way way too much for my own good. "let go, hold on, get it back, rewind, fast forward, invent a new emotional state for each day so it's doesn't get tiresome and you don't feel lost and alone." maybe i should have let myself feel lost and alone. maybe that would have been beneficial. i'll never know, though because it's over. it is all over. finally. yes allen, BANG on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal but those guys don't understand, they never understand the word vomit, the spewing of guts and intestine all over the well-planned and prophesied future. do you have any idea at all how unbelievably elated i am that i no longer have to worry about whether or not i'm lovable or even likeable and i don't have to check my phone for messages or my email with that wrinkled line across my forehead because it was all so unnecessary in the first place and now i can just forget about it because there is no longer an ulterior motive. i don't have to leak like a sieve, i don't have to be passive-aggressive  and unpersuasive because i'm a gentle human being and have no temper nor underlying, hurtful plans of my own i just want to exist if that's alright. i just want to get my hands dirty creating a new world for you to slip inside when you're tired and sad because we've inherited the hard yellow hats of construction workers to do with as we please please please can we start our own movement and build our own city and i'll stick around as long as you need me for two minutes longer but after that i'll disappear cause we need to learn by ourselves how to steer clear of those dead-ends. i've just been launched back into that amazing mindset of almost exactly one year ago when everything good in the world was rolled up together in one big huge ball at the tips of my toes, begging me, just begging me not to waste it and not to sit and paralyze myself because i am YOUNG and supposed to be making lots of mistakes in order to have ridiculous, dramatic little non-stop epiphanies, mixing and matching my own visions of who i want to become as long as i strive strive strive to stay alive and take that dive into the unprecedented, the unknown, the dangerous, just because it's wildly beautiful. i'm a child but i'm supposed to be making my head explode because TRANSITIONS are my absolute favorite time of life and this is huge, huge transition time and i get to find out just what i'm made of, oh please let me be brave. i thought, "well, i might as well try this whole relationship thing because i might learn something." and i LEARNED THAT maybe i'm not meant for relationships period. i love boys. i hate boyfriends. we're so not made for each other. i feel a little bit stupid (and i should) because all of this would have been completely over three-four months ago had he not come back with all those promises so many times. but he knew i loved him and could never make him leave on my own, because i wanted to be good friends more than anything, but apparently we can't do that so woohoo i've come to a conclusion and everyone can stop being annoyed with my indecisiveness right this instant. I've waited, and given the chance again, I'd do it all the same, but either way I'm always outplayed, up on your down days I left it the right way, to start again Now watch me rise up and leave  all the ashes you made out of me When you said that we were wrong,  life goes on, just look how long I've agreed Out of place, like a gem on a coalface Lost on the right way, it's all the same 'Cause I've had my hopes raised, riding the wrong waves Scared when you feel safe to start again Now watch me rise up and leave all the ashes you made out of me When you said that we were wrong,  life goes on, you blew me away nicholas i'm so sorry you had to deal with all of my babbling in the car going home, i was working myself through a revelation and needed to yell things out a little bit. i know straight people are stupid and obnoxious and i'll try never to do that to you again. thank you for always putting up with me and paying for me. the truth IS: i am in love with purity. and self-reliance. i am in love with obscurity. and noncompliance. i am in love with the idea of being as unattached as one human being can possibly become, and i need to be out there on my own to roll up my sleeves and take this brand new idea for all it's worth. FUCK! i have a squeaky clean new brain and a brand new heart and it smells of paint and carpet cleaner but it's made of steel and marshmallows. i'm a LUNATIC. and it's pretty here. i am profoundly content, one hundred percent, and i bring you God's consent to take your wonder and foolishness to the highest extent as long as you stay free as long as you stay unafraid because there's no excuse to for you to be waiting, sedating your blood and your dreams when all you have to do is rest. you are blessed. but i have digressed, what i mean to say is we live our lives right now in eternity. calm the fuck down, it's nothing to worry about. it's all happening. it's all right here. (i love you all, let's all be friends and stop pissing each other off) (18 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, March 14th, 2006
4:44 pm	To live, to err, to fall, to triumph, to recreate life out of life! made this entry yesterday---forgot to post it. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ eighteen seconds before sunrise... if you touch it, it's cold if you drop it, it breaks if you hug it, it shakes hold it, it shakes "boom," she said. now here is a very, very important question: Are our lives frittered away by detail?...OR...Is nothing more necessary than the unnecessary? think for a bit before you decide on that one. "question everything"....but whhyyy? I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand- How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep- while I weep! O God! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream? Edgar Allan Poe is appropriate because i consider him transcendental, if darkly so and it's been one of those days. i've NEEDED a day like this for such a long time where i just run and run and run around outside and exert so much energy and explore and gaze open mouthed at the moon while i'm driving in my car blasting songs such as "Gong" from the Takk... cd thanks to mr. mcguire. i know it's not spring yet but i couldn't wait because like i said i needed a day. desperately. it's been so long. people say nothing's constant but what about those evergreens that stay the same all year and still create a canopy over the same winding road that forces you to go twenty miles an hour and the same fields we illegally run across with the same silly signs and fences. but good thing the sky changes because then you can stare at it while you're blasting music in your car and driving those twenty miles an hour and think "oh bless this sky and these fields and this earth and these trees." haha i try so hard to convince everyone that i'm not really a hippie. it's failing miserably. it takes a day like this to realize i love this place. haha i love lake milton. laaame-asss. i don't like to be home a lot but i don't really think that's my fault; i was born with this restless spirit. i want to be out there, living in the sun. for instance i left as soon as i got home again today in order to work out with my oldest sister. and p.s. my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE place is the punching bag. oh i'm so fucking proud of myself i actually made one of my knuckles bleed. HELL yeah. i feel like i should be on alias or something. i kicked the shit out of that thing. but i also love the bench press and running around. so now i'm all achy and the muscles in my legs are on fire. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- He always wanted to explain things. But no one cared. So he drew. Sometimes he would just draw and it wasn't anything. He wanted to carve it in stone or write it in the sky. He would lie out on the grass and look up in the sky and it would be only him and the sky and the things inside that needed saying. And it was after that, that he drew the picture. He kept it under the pillow and would let no one see it. And he would look at it every night and think about it. And when it was dark and his eyes were closed, he could still see it. And it was all of him, and he loved it. When he started school, he brought it with him. Not to show anyone, but just to have it with him like a friend. It was funny about school. He sat in a square brown desk like all the other square brown desks and he thought it should be red. And his room was a square brown room. Like all the other rooms. And it was tight, close and stiff. He hated to hold the pencil and the chalk with his arm stiff and his feet flat on the floor, stiff, and with the teacher watching and watching. And then he tried to write numbers. And they weren't anything. They were worse than the letters that could be something if you put them together. And the numbers were tight and square and he hated the whole thing. After that they drew. And he drew all yellow and it was the way he felt about the morning. And it was beautiful. The teacher came and smiled at him. "What's this?" she said. "WHY don't you draw something like Ken's drawing? Isn't that beautiful?" It was all questions. After that his mother bought him a tie and he always drew airplanes and rocket ships like everyone else. And he threw the old picture away. And when he lay out alone looking at the sky, it was big and blue and all of everything, but HE wasn't anymore. He was square and brown and his hands were stiff, and he was like anyone else. And the thing inside him that needed saying didn't need saying anymore. It had stopped pushing. It was crushed. Stiff. Like everything else. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- but one thing i do like about hippies is their ability to strip everything down to the bare minimum and live off of good vibes and sweetness and simple joy and peace. god that sounds so appealing, i think i'll just copy-paste that into my lifestyle, thanks. I can't help the feeling I could blow through the ceiling If I just turn and run It wears me out, it wears me out today i realized that i can't really wait to end high school. it's not exactly the people, its more the scenery. mentally i think i'm ready to go. but that's okay because basically all i do at school anymore is curl up and fall asleep listening to music, draw pictures of other people, or write co-authored epic poems about everyone i know. so it's not that much of a drag yet. mostly because i ignore it a lot. Floor collapsing Floating, bouncing back And one day.... I am going to grow wings A chemical reaction Hysterical and useless Shell smashed, juices flowing Wings twitch, legs are going Don't get sentimental It always ends up drivel people say that your dreams are the only thing that save you. well, the old dreams are back. all the plans and hopes and wishes for the future, they're still floating around. me + asia + cliffs and mountains + my own ideas + being wise and tough + stories and fiction smiles and tears + getting dirty and then clean again = my life plan. all the trusting myself and the bravery, that's all floating around in here, too, somewhere. ****all the important decisions and useful/meaningful things in my life will take turmoil and even pain to decide upon and get through. so it'll be okay even if things get painful again. p.s. i'm reading this book about verbal judo, and i'm becoming a communication samurai. p.p.s. i think everyone in first period senior privilege should skip it tomorrow and we should all get coffee. 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Monday, February 27th, 2006
10:18 pm	The headlights look like diamonds, the taillights burn like coals Please read the following story while listening to the song, "Cars and Telephones" by Arcade Fire. If you have a windows media player, go to the media guide and type in "arcade fire" and pick the first song that's actually labeled as TheArcade Fire- No Cars Go, but it will play as cars and telephones. Actually it might not make any difference, I just listened to that song while I wrote this and that's all. and don't just listen to it without looking up the lyrics, okay? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- let me tell you a story about a girl who suddenly loved the people around her so much that one day the thought of letting go of everything that's happened to her in the past three years caused her to fall to pieces 30 seconds before her first scene entrance into the bright lights of an auditorium stage: once upon a time that girl swung her feet while she sat on a wooden stool and two other girls drew wrinkles across her face and she tried not to smile while they applied the Oldness to her forehead, though benjamin gibbard was at that moment whispering sweetness into her ear (softly soaring through her atmosphere) she was late, as usual distracted, as always and her feet had no hope of touching that green tile floor so she swung them and held back her smiles as camera flashes glittered from across the room. then suddenly, and quite suddenly, a wave of unbearable sadness washed over her like a bucket of cold water because she realized at that moment she would never again need make-up applied to her face to Fool the audience no more costumes, no more pretend, no more carnations to anonymously send but she kept her cool as the crowded room formed a circle around her and she tried not to think about life without bright lights and costumes and wrinkles and pressure a small leak sprung in the tiny corner of her eye but that was to be expected she grinned into the mirror and the tissues she cheerfully rejected grateful for the bloodshot eyes which rendered her character perfected, she was fine, she was ready, hair disheveled but hands steady she walked to the door of the home-ec room but was stopped. by a girl with candy and a note from someone she never thought she'd hear from again. push push push it out of mind or you know you'll begin to unwind those chords wrapped around the Old things pushed down so deep all the way to your knees where they sit heavy and will make more seeds that will breed and make you weak don't you think for one second that this means anything more than that medieval faire ticket still in your wallet, or the picture of that tree with its roots stuck in sand, or the (A flash, while you are getting dressed A memory that needs to be repressed I'll just wait until it's over) enough. all she needs is the first line but she can't recall it as she walks through the tunnel up the black stairs and into that green light hidden behind the curtain, associated with Back Stage she tries to smile at the wide-eyed second glances but looks at her hands they won't stop shaking because the clover and Jojo overalls sat on her dresser for over a year this is her very first breakdown and its a public one as she tries to calmly explain that she's just momentarily falling apart and she has less than a minute to stop gripping the bricks in the wall while she heaves and sobs and she's never cried like this before (never more than a few tears at a time) but she's got to stop making these silly noises before she makes her entrance and it's soon so soon she needs more time, begging for more time, please more time give her a second her hands are grabbed by two other people she is told to close her eyes and take a deep breath more hands find her shoulders a kiss is placed on her cheek. she's told to just breathe. she steadies herself by placing her hands on a table. remembers her lines, now if she's just able to walk out and say them without her voice cracking but this is home more than anything else has ever been it's about the pressure and the emotion and the tension and doubts, but walking out there anyway and the tears are still in her eyes yet her voice is just clear enough for what her character must say she pulls them off (the lines) she walks back off (the stage) she shrugs it off (you know...) she's laughing it off but suddenly she's a human fountain again mucus fucking pouring out of her nose and this is hilarious because she's truly okay now it's just an after-effect or something she's trying to wipe it up with the corners ripped from the pages of lyrics to the songs she'll start singing in minute but it won't stop until she recognizes the fact that (fuck it, I love you even if I'm gonna feel like shit) and then it stops. she makes a joke about wiping her snot on a shawl that is not hers she feels so much better. (And yes you're in my head) (And if I had any notion Of how I'm gonna drive my car across the Atlantic Ocean, I'd be fucking set.) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- who knows. it's a given that i will love him for absolutely the rest of my life. but the question remains whether or not loving him is enough. because honestly, it might not be enough. it's a relief to be strong enough to recognize that fact. after all, i love a lot of people. and when things ended before it was because i loved him so much that i was paralyzed and couldn't move or grow or feel anything other than that. it was all wrong even if it was love because i desperately needed to change and so did he, and if we can't do that while we're wrapped up in each other, maybe i'll just have to love him forever without ever acting on it. i honestly don't know. it's different now, a different love now, and i'm different now. just a little bit. amazingly, i could live with either option. everything is up in the air, which is fine by me. the only thing i am clear about is what i can handle and at this point i could handle either extreme and everything in between. i know myself and that's all i need to know. i've always known that no matter what i would always love him because you just can't say "forever" day after and day and make that promise and not mean it. BUT i'm aware of the mistakes i made and the horrible cycle i got myself into, and so i leave all of this in the hands of whomever's running this show. whether that means never being anything more than a friend or not. and i'm just ready to accept the future and the things i've done and whatever the hell else i need to accept because i trust it. whatever IT is. i always thought that whole "beauty in the breakdown" thing was just a little bit on the lame side. an excuse to not get over things that might need to be faced. i didn't fully understand it. good thing no one gets uncomfortable with brutal honesty, haha. someone should have told me that falling apart is so beneficial and that expending 5 gallons of fluid out your eyes and nose could feel so goddamn good. bon weekend. and pittsburgh tomorrow. can we bring that strobe light to canton with us? (29 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, February 18th, 2006
11:28 am	O God, if there be a God, save my soul, if I have a soul. In the air I’m sensing a change in the weather... i went snowboarding last night. i completely forgot how to do it and had to re-teach myself, which was humiliating but also wonderful. i fell a bit at first and now my knees are bruised a lot because i was nowhere near cautious enough for someone so out-of-touch with her mediocre skills. but lovely, yes. i have more free passes and will go again and maybe take a person or two, ask me if you wanna. today i used a stolen pass and i was on the run from the staff people who were checking tags because i certainly wasn't a middle-aged ski advisor named rita stariatus. i'll write a cheesy-ass novel about it entitled "fugitive on the slopes." the best part was eluding capture and stumbling upon a cafe hidden at the very top of the highest slope after getting off a ski lift. i did not make that up, it's real. i also played mafia last night, which was also lovely. kelli was murdered. i sort of avenged her death by helping to kill one of the head honchos but then i was tragically "taken care of" because i was too much of a threat. whatever, the citizens once again prevailed and that's all that matters.  and i swear i'm good at ping pong. My head's a balloon. Inflating with the altitude. i am going to school in Pittsburgh. my mom told me i couldn't go to a college that was (1) far away or (2) in a city. now you can imagine my reaction to those rules. so i applied to Carlow university anyway and they gave me a full tuition scholarship and now my mom can't not let me go and oh man, oh man i'm going to live in pittsburgh for four years of my life. i know i don't deserve it, especially since all i did was fill out their application, and i haven't even visited the place yet, but its located directly in the city on Fifth Avenue, so i don't care if it's a one-room shack. there are two minor problems with it, though. one- it is a catholic college and i sort of loathe catholicism. two- it's almost an all-girls school and i sort of loathe girls. HOWEVER. as for problem number one, i have managed to survive about fourteen years of catholic school, despite the fact that i barely foster any belief in god and what little belief i have is based on another religion. ALSO, somehow i think that maybe a catholic college might condition me a little bit more to join the peace corps or become a defiant missionary. i don't know. i hope this plan gets carried out, but if necessary i'll be the only one of the group not using god as an excuse to conform the people into acting the way i want them to act. maybe i'll get fired for teaching people to hate fear instead of teaching hatred of "satan" because of fear. oh i donn't knoowww. if i keep up a reasonable gpa they'll keep paying for me to go there and i can get an apartment sophomore year with nickish and we can live together in squalor and dissidence. or take up residence in the andy warhol museum. oh man location is EVERYTHING and i couldn't ask for a better location. in regards to problem number two (girls) ummm it's true that large groups of girls terrify me sometimes. it's also true that i'm infinitely more comfortable with boys even when they're being gross or unpredictably childish because boys are honest and easy to comprehend but girls have so many layers i just don't have time for them sometimes. and selfrighteous or supercilious girls are even more unbearable so i'm not sure how i will handle it. i might read a lot. correction, i will live in bookstores and cafes. that's already been decided. and we will be here: (taken on a misty night at the Rockhouse while i free-styled in a parking lot) I've been built up and trusted Broke down and busted They'll get theirs and we'll get ours if you can just Hold on Hold on so finally because of that nice news i feel not afraid of college anymore, which was the only thing i was ever passive-aggressive about. and maybe i've been wrong and things are actually easy and simple and i overcomplicate to my destruction. the feeling of worthlessness was far too prevalent for someone with the possibility of the world writhing in ecstasy at her feet. i mean i feel like there's something benevolent following me around again- i didn't even think i would get in to that school because i applied so late and didn't even fully fill out the form. someone decided to save my life, though, so now i have all this motivation to completely pay for college myself. i just have to get a job and take care of room and board i think. my parents were in the middle of one of their daily speeches about how i don't foster relationships with them anymore and i'm never home or participating in the family and my mom was yelling at me a lot and then i casually opened the letter from carlow... and my mom read it and started yelling again but this time she was hugging me and i felt really uncomfortable and asked if i could go clean the carpet please. : / "Madam, I never eat muscatel grapes." oh dear. my sadly proud gesture of refusal, i'm in love with it despite everything. so even though i like boys so much i can't seem to keep myself attracted to them. maybe i'm asexual or something. who knows. i can't kiss boys without a combination of desperation and affection even if i'm not entirely attracted to the boy. i truly can't kiss someone and not mean it. so what my subconscious does is convince myself that i mean it at the time. but this is horrible because then the other party becomes convinced that i'm madly in love and they either freak out or try to escalate things to all sorts of levels for which i'm unprepared and i get freaked out and bail. nothing but the very deepest love will seduce me into submitting myself to all that agony. plus i'm always lazy as hell. seriously, with me there's never even any hope of starting anything unless the boy is fairly determined because i neither know how to pursue nor put forth any effort whatsoever in getting things started. and THAT'S only when i'm aware of it, which is an exaggeration of my comprehensiveness in those areas. agape is so much more appealing. nothing feels more tedious than the prospect of a relationship right now. in other news my latest addiction is skipping class. if you see me walking around somewhere in the halls come out of that awful square, brown classroom and take a stroll with me. in even more unrelated news, i like to run around my house a lot in daylight. and in snow: and. i am at the edge of my seat in anticipation of states this year.  i saw amanda mcallen on my way to the beat yesterday as well but she was wearing her driving face and looked so concentrated that i didn't dare ask the driver to beap the horn. the crucible. come see it this thursday, friday, and saturday. we will scare the shit out of you. i've come to the realization that fruit and coffee are all i need to survive ever. with the addition of the occasional japanese food binge. i guess that explains my fear of the college meal plan. in the end the path is clear, i promise promise promise. for me the decision for future schooling was between ashland and baldwin wallace because i think i would love baldwin wallace and ashland had one of the top ten writing schools in the country but is in the middle of fucking nowhere. ashland gave me lots of scholarships but not enough to convince me that cutting myself off from civilization is a good idea just yet. baldwin wallace is stupid and didn't even send me the acceptance stuff yet. my late application is no excuse. so yeah it's pretty much an easy choice. though i wanted to go to school in cleveland so badly.  i'm also so glad that james joyce understands. i need to find another movie that will catapult me into an emotional upheaval. i'm so fond of those. please send any suggestions in my direction as soon as possible. the fact is that we can only find our way by moonlight. but our punishment is that we see the dawn before the rest of the world. so sayeth oscar wilde in regards to dreamers. 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Monday, January 23rd, 2006
7:16 pm	there's piles on the floor of artifacts from dresser drawers, and i'll help you pack We peered through the windows... new bottoms on barstools but the people remain the same, with prices inflating. Inflating. I've always fallen fast with too much trust in the promise that "no one's ever been here, so you can quell those wet fears." I want purity, I must have it here right now. But don't you get me started now. i listen to embarrassing music and fall for introspective poetic sappy lyrics sometimes. i feel better that it is only one band (ever) because i can't stand it from any other band but dcfc and i also feel better that they're all consolingly ugly and you can't have crushes on them. it's hard to explain, but anyone who sounds remotely like them, i will hate without reservation. maybe because i know they're not good? *grin* i'm so hostile about music. just call me emo and see what happens. Bullocks! Bugger off! Piss Bubbles! pretty much anything's better than the radio but i wouldn't recommend it guys. passing through unconscious states, when i awoke i was on the highway i'm slowly, slowly learning roads and state routes and directions. it's a painful process because i never paid any attention to roads/navigation until i got my license, BUT i'm determined to end my handicap no matter how long it takes. everyone start quizing me on roads now. i do the whole "what the hell was i thinking?" thing and even some of the "what the hell am i thinking?" thing these days. and i get lost a lot, mostly because i like it a lot. blame it on the music i play in my car, please. lies and betrayals. fruit-covered nails. electricity and lust won't break the door. i've got a heavy coat-it's filled with rocks and sand. my dreams are stuck in the past, but my head's on about as straight as ever i could get it. i wake up with a warped state of mind sometimes. but then i forget my dreams almost immediately before getting out of bed. once my feet are on the floor and i'm rubbing the sleepy stuff out of my eyes, there's no stopping me, i am my own weather pattern (sort of). i now have to brush my teeth about five times a day just so they don't fall out of my mouth because i'm already addicted to coffee. i shouldn't be surprised, i saw it coming; coffee is far too synonymous with books, whomever thought to combine bookstores and cafes is a fucking genius. hot black coffee makes me think of books and brains, and vice versa. that dalai lama personality test we took said that how you think of coffee is how you view sex (...books? haha OR...it has to be hot or its useless?...) so how do YOU view coffee? the other day people were being adorable, so i felt obligated to adore them. that only happens about as often as an ecplise. tricks are everything to me. My eyes stick to all the shiny robes you wear on the protein delta strip in abandoned house but i will wait there i like these icons: pick one for me? and how do you get certain icons to appear on certain entries? i'm just curious. it's probably lame that i'm still a humanist and believe people can always start over, and life is just a tabula rasa (the clean slate theory) because maybe there is a gift called forgetfulness that's there for a reason, since fucking up is such an unavoidably human thing to do. maybe it is foolish. maybe i make excuses. maybe i should get some sleep. but self control? it might be nice, maybe. dumbass. oh well, i've got clean melodies in my head for now. a beautifully soft, reassuringly repetitious operatic apparatus, to be exact. my schedule is ridiculous. i'm dropping world history II with ryan to take ceramics II with meaghan because i need an art class again to make things perfect. and life's actually kind of wonderful right now, so my first instinct is not to mess with it, but you know i have this innate thing deep inside me that loves to bite off more than i can chew. i just have to trust myself and my own warped judgement, because it's kind of all i've got. "You're in debt and completely fooled, that you can look into the mirror and objectively rank your wounds." (33 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, January 10th, 2006
7:18 pm	ars poetica `I could tell you my adventures--beginning from this morning,' said Alice a little timidly: `but it's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.' still haven't typed my research paper, but outside was beautiful today and i just took a shower and feel pretty good. thanks, outside. i still want to be this man pretty badly: (to keep up the absurd tradition of having movie conversations with myself on this thing) i actually liked once upon a time in mexico more than i liked desperado. i am about to watch el mariachi. independent robert rodriguez with no second takes. oh yes. the consensus is that memoirs of a geisha is a chick flick so i guess i like chick flicks now, but probably just because it was "japanese." haha despite chinese accents and "inaccurate portrayal of japanses culture". i know it got bad reviews but it was too aesthetically pleasing for me to resist. chick flick is too broad of a term anyway. i dislike romantic comedies, and this wasn't one, though so many found it a comic attempt at a drama. there is that better? is it good or bad that movies keep love and hope alive? it depends on whether or not i want to keep thinking about life like a movie. it’s basically the same question over and over and over again. IF the world’s a song… Is there a song? Can you sing? Is singing wrong, Is life too long, Would you risk your vocal chords? well. it either exists or does not exist, it’s either everything or nothing. if, in its purest form, it is real and there is simple truth in the world, then it is degraded and used and trampled down and people are utter fools for not taking advantage of it every waking moment. if it’s nonexistent then pretty much everything is pretense, cheap imitation, over-glorification and all things serve the Crimson King. i would never settle for cheap imitation, so if i don’t start believing in it soon, i will absolutely refuse any and all forms of it for the rest of my life, except those forms of it that are internal and untainted. i don’t doubt people’s good intentions, just their attention spans. but if it’s anything less than what it’s cracked up to be, it wouldn’t be worth it anyway and i wouldn’t need it. everything depends on authenticity, or so it would seem. it, it, it. the ultimately unclear antecedent. pattie would be appalled. right now i shall choose the weightlessness until more convincing evidence presents itself. ms. george substituted for us the other day and she made me glow again for a few minutes. it was one of those sitcom teacher-reaches-student things. ridiculous, haha. i love cracking through that woman's shell because she's a total swinger and hides it underneath her job face. i'm stalling. i'm even resorting to rich text. what the hell. i don't want to do this paaper. mike's wrong i am so not a machine with this stuff. it's the "research" part that's killing me. i don't want to write about other people's opinions, i have too many of my own. literary critics are too damn pretentious anyway, you have to slice through about 5,000 superfluous adjectives and adverbs just to be able to understand what they're saying. i haven't even found anybody yet with whom i agree. one woman out of about fifty writers ended up being brilliant but she's arguing for the opposite side of my case. i think i will make up my own sources, yes? then pattie won't be able to find them and know that i didn't use any. is everyone back at college? how was school today? give me a reason to put this off for one more day. nick. movie day on friday? *dangles angels in america in front of your face* "Alice said nothing; she had sat down with her face in her hands, wondering if anything would EVER happen in a natural way again." (19 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, January 2nd, 2006
2:10 am	What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagi-nation "librarian find me the poem, the one that kicks your head in" STATUS: found! well for today anyway it's "am was." by e. e. cummings and "howl" by allen ginsberg observe: ------------------------------------------------------------------------ am was. are leaves few this. is these a or scratchily over which of earth dragged once -ful leaf. & were who skies clutch an of poor how colding hereless. air theres what immense live without every dancing. singless on- ly a child's eyes float silently down more than two those that and that noing our gone snow gone yours mine . We're alive and shall be:cities may overflow(am was)assassinating whole grassblades,five ideas can swallow a man;three words im -prison a woman for all her now:but we've such freedom such intense digestion so much greenness only dying makes us grow ------------------------------------------------------------------------ i hope i'm never complete but i'm pretty close right now after rediscovering glassjaw and the old music from, oh, about freshman year. unbelievable. ((((angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night))))) god his words are jewels in my brain and in my mouth. i'm kind of glad i made at least seven plans for new years because i knew some of them were bound to work out. as it turns out i was able to execute 3-4 of them and therefore it was a lovely new years eve. happy new year kelli craig and nick kish and jimmy mcguire because i wanted to see you all in three different places at the same time and those parts of my plans failed. also, chelsea, i hope your new years wasn't hell. (I'm with you in Rockland where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter) yup i think it's my favorite. today, anyway. -------------------------------------------------------- I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys. I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel? -------------------------------------------------------- i will now proceed to document two perfect transcendental moments of the last day of 2005, and the first day of 2006. both were experienced with my sister, because since we are bound by blood to spend such astronomic amounts of time together, she is the only person with whom my time constraints become completely obsolete. with everyone else i have to be on crushing time schedules, which to me is the worst part about life sometimes. the best day of my life will be when i have car keys in my hand and someone with me who loathes schedules and dates and obligations. i want to wander around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where to go, and go, leaving no broken hearts. ANYWAYS the point is that the only time i'm truly free in regards to time and rules is when i'm with my sister because my parents aren't looking for me and i don't have to worry about coming up with an explanation. SO the two transcendental moments were: 1. downtown youngstown around 11 at night on new years when someone was singing beautifully through the streets and the pretty lights were on and we sat on a quiet, solitary bench 50 feet in the air looking down on the people and the lights from the windows and the sillouhettes in the windows and then i looked at nadia and she was crying because she thought is was beautiful. 2. the day after, around 10 in the morning, falling asleep in the car in front of a deserted church listening to music about love, death, hope, and shaky courage while pondering what unoriginal profound thoughts i could scribble on our car windows. and then the people on their way to church staring at our car because it proclaimed lenny bruce's famous message "people are straying away from church and going back to God." ah blasphemy... winners and goddamn sinners while we dine among the wrong side of the day. everyday is in eternity. I'm with you in Rockland where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse I'm with you in Rockland where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls col- lapse O skinny legions run outside O starry spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free oh America, why are your libraries full of tears? umm can i describe the dream to you right now? ok here's the dream right now: it's years from now and i'm older but younger in my head and i'm kind of living out of my car with an old fashioned typewriter in the back and piles of clean blank paper and a pipe to be used with the highest discretion and incense tobacco or perhaps just incense. i have a trunk full of books and blankets for nights on the pavement or the sand when its cold and the dharma isn't quite enough to keep me warm. guys i just realized exactly two days ago how easy it is to pick yourself up off of the ground. when things get difficult, its because half of it is just made up in my head and the other half is simply out of my control and worrying about it does nothing. "For a minute they sat thinking about it- about worlds spinning on a single axle in dying harmony- and no one said anything." (9 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, December 24th, 2005
5:34 am	here comes your nineteenth nervous breakdown they finally installed internet at our house, or rather, the house in which we currently reside. this house is on the lake and kind of beautiful except that my family turns me into a frustrated angsty teen and makes me stir crazy so that all i want to do is hop in a car and drive until i hit the coast. any coast. enough commercial goodwill. please. christmas is reduced to lukewarm coals in this godforsaken state of mind. luckily whenever i feel the badness creeping in i clutch all the soul-saving paraphernalia to my chest and think as loudly as i can, "okay. your one job today is to breathe in and out. in and out. take it easy, tiger. easy. close your eyes. breathe." and it works, mostly. if it doesn't, i run outside and tear across the frozen lake. at first i was tentative about it and stepped as lightly as possible, ears straining for any whisper of a crack...but now i walk much faster and bask in the knowledge that i could die out under the ice if it cracks because no one is out there to save me. this might be an unhealthy way to quell the feeling of restlessness but the lake is fairly sturdy. i'm just not used to being home, is all. i don't think i've ever spent a full day at home since maybe the beginning of the summer. cheah. one thing i can say about school is that it provides me with an excuse to absolutely never be home. i make up 5,000 things i have to do after school and ridiculous errands in order to minimize time spent at home to near-microscopic proportions. when we were living in the apartment, i think the earliest i came home was around ten o'clock. i didn't even know what daylight looked in that place. i'm sure i didn't miss anything. i'm typing this whilst watching all extended versions of the lord of the rings. i want to be sam. sort of. for christmas i simply want the corners of my mouth slowly stretching plus the ability to get my life going; the ability to get started with all this Stuff and start pursuing dreams; to realize what is most important and what i want; the ability to not just go “oh FINE” and not just throw my hands up in defeat and not just let my eyes glaze over. i want that something not set in stone which they can’t touch or even know about that quickens my breath and sharpens my senses. something embarrassing: i have yet to see the movie "desperado". Once Upon a Time in Mexico was ridiculous and i loved it more than words, despite enrique iglesias. wanker. i own it. i'll lend it to anyone who asks for it. i sit here clutching uselessness. keys for doors that don't exist, i've cracked my teeth on pearls. tear into the history, show me what it means to be in this world. enough. i need to start caring about things and animals and people just a bit more, if only for the sake of not becoming completely callous. you see, several weeks ago i could feel that steel next to my bones beginning to harden and i was pleased because at such times i feel as if i could easily face colliding worlds and close calls with ease and a cool head. yet the sorry side-effect remains- with the hardening of the steel also comes a lack of deep feeling. i can take almost anything in my lower arms (in terms of pain), it’s true, and i’ve got the burn mark to prove it. burn mark from my fireplace. the fireplace that caught my house on fire. i knew no other way to deal except in calm detachment. it was just a house. when people lose most of their material possessions they usually have revelations of how little they are actually worth in retrospect. it was the opposite for me. i wanted to have my books back on my shelf and my movies hidden under my bed next to my big box of letters. i knew i didn't need them, but i wanted them there. so when they brought me the box of stuff with all of my destroyed papers and notebooks with all the water damage, you can imagine my dismay at seeing the ink running off of the pages rendering most of the words illegible. and among the ruins i come across an old psychology notebook. not mine. with him it was safety and excitement rolled into one, with the enormity of the world residing quietly in his backyard and between his sheets. the story is as follows: i selfishly wanted him to remain the exact same boy with whom i fell in love. when he began to change i began to shut down. i wanted him to remain like this: I see the sun and I see the sun and its twinklin’ in the sky. ‘Cause I’m all empty And she’s meltin’ Maybe we can be together someday soon It’s not like that It’s all raining But I know I might be real ‘Cause I’m old and She’s pretty And the coat, it keeps us both inside its arms -------------------------------------------------------------- I would fly through the hallways but walk past the open doorways indulging in the appearance of having my feet on the ground in skipping class to see you and smell you and feel you and kiss you, trying not to grin too wide because I had notebooks with pages of Carl Jung colliding with the short notes scribbled in the margins next to the pages where you tried to copy my handwriting when i finish this bottle i will put a piece of paper in it, inscribed with words of weighted gold, words with the central theme, “all is not lost.” then i will throw it into an unfrozen body of water. for the sole purpose of making my head explode with happiness. redemption song. Robert Marley. under the circumstances in my weakened condition because of this in spite of this i'm trying to keep it together. Pink Floyd and Aristotle and Kerouac running through my veins right next to the blood. pulsating in perfect rhythm with my heart pumping it all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes. easy, tiger. let it go, champ. tough guy. old sport. i remember the scenic route with no gas, the night after the mooney game, discovering buddhism, dreams of living in italian opera houses, a time when i was nothing but honest and imagination ruled the world, and letting my spirit take flight in the heartbrake between an a minor and f chord. hey you don't get lost. christmas eve eve blues with the snow melting and the blinds closed. i'll be better come tomorrow because everyone around me will be smiling and singing. plus i'm going sledriding whether there's snow or not. (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 15th, 2005
1:16 am	the ecstacy of perfect recognition (it stung like a violent wind, that our memories depend on a faulty camera in our minds) i still want to go to third world countries and be a dissident and tell impoverished children about imagination and art and new ideas. i want to give them books to read and kiss them on the forehead and tell them they're beautiful so that maybe they'll grow up to be strong and dignified. yup. ~my hands are too soft~ then i want to catch a tropical disease and go out with a bang in all my honor and glory. it's funny how half of one's mood for today depends on last night or the weekend. absurd actually. friday after play we went out to eat and spent far too much money with mandela before going to the movies. for the first time in my life i defiled the theatre by leaving in the middle of the movie to go to chelsea's house and not be late for HIM in cleveland that night (which might have been the most incredible show i've ever seen, including coheed and cambria, though i think i still like them better) chelsea has pictures on her journal (cyanidewine) but they're blurry and full of incessant fists and fingers. it was so grand, though, and made me want to work at agora. i shook the hand of a reggaepunk guitar player impersonating woody allen. jeez. i don't sweat very often, but i walked out of there with the satisfaction and clarity of being completely drenched in my own sweat and everyone else's. i had no choice but to benignly reside up the asses and in the side pockets of everyone in front of me, with no room to even put my arms, and the same went for the people behind me, so i wasn't completely surprised when i swore i felt the erection of the large gay man directly behind me. haha, i know buddy, ville's hot. then i had to get up ass early for speech on saturday where i actually placed despite being severely sleep-deprived and almost losing my voice from the night before. THEN i was forced to go eat at that chinese restaurant in warren on elm road because speech people are all rich and like to go eat amongst culture and class and asians. we stayed there for what seemed like many moons and by the time i got home it was dark, but i took a quick shower (because i love showers these days) and got nadia to go see mr. szugye play guitar, where i started falling asleep because i hadn't had decent sleep all week, but afterwards we just had to go to that hubbard café and drink chai tea and play poker with gummies/candy as the money. then when the "live entertainment" stopped playing for five minutes i knocked over everyone's drinks because i lept to the vacant piano, knowing we had little time to begin properly glorifying life before those bastards started playing again. i think we were still in the middle of screaming hey jude or closing time or something when the folk women took up their banjos and started singing something incoherent, so we had to stop. the next day was my nephew's one-year-old birthday party and my relatives from my dad's side of the family came over with their ridiculously gorgeous little boys who run around our house saying the most absurd and wonderful things. the people on my father's side of the family are practically all musicians, so once again i found myself attacking a piano in the midst of a large crowd and singing my brains out because those guys are all rockin and i had to honor my family name. or something. so around ten o'clock when everyone was going home, katie was all "hey do you have any homework?" and i explained to her the rules about being a senior, and how even if i did have homework, it would be unethical for me to do any of it at home. so she asks us if we want to go bowling and of course we do, so once again i'm hitting my parents up for money but once again it is worth it because kt plays the old songs in her car that we all know and i get shotgun on the way there and my bowling skills are hilarious. i don't know if i ever actually stayed behind the line, which is bad because it's extra slippery on the other side (probably for the very reason of making sure people don't cross it) and once i actually fell and landed in a heap, with my ENTIRE body completely across the line. and i did all of my specialty dances every time i actually got some pins down. these days i laugh a lot more because people got funnier. the goodness is still unaided by alcohol or drugs, but when i grow up i'll probably drink a lot of wine. i grow old... i grow old... i shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. the funny thing about doubting everything is that soon you begin to doubt your doubts and circle back to the original ideas you tried to tear down. silly, really, like the pains that men will take to come to pain. but i'll know for next time. in senior privelege, jim, who has a lot of trouble expressing himself, reminded all of us, "well, ya know what they say...if you can't take the truth, get out of the kitchen." and i'm trying to remember that sage advice. cough. but seriously guys, i'm always fascinated by the fact that you never truly know what you look like through other people's eyes. i always want to figure out exactly what other people are thinking, but i got bad at it because i'm too damn self-absorbed to think about anything but what's going on with me sometimes. anyways, methinks it's a subject worth pursuing. hunter s. thompson dedicated fear and loathing to bob dylan just because of this song: Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to. Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you. Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind, Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves, The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach, Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow. Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free, Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands, With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves, Let me forget about today until tomorrow. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- i want to study maps and learn the precise art of travel. i want to study languages and learn the precise art of communication. i want to study people and learn the precise art of living. (15 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 1st, 2005
4:29 am	Who would ever think that so much went on in the soul of a young girl? it was a grand halloween. once again we've been bathed in possibility, so maybe i'll give the prospect of college and a future life of goodness another chance. I wish we could open our eyes To see in all directions at the same time Oh what a beautiful view If you were never aware of what was around you And it is true what you said That I live like a hermit in my own head But when the sun shines again I'll pull the curtains and blinds to let the light in. i'm glad we tackled dark alleyways and harrowing empty streets without street lights and not knowing where we were and josh's house with 99 red balloons and a trampoline and lots of the old comfort. maybe its not necessary but grace never is really necessary if you think about it. oh man autumn will be over soon, i hoped you've all picked a favorite tree. mine is an impossibly brilliant yellow with some equally brilliant red at the tips of some of the leaves. i walk by and pick some of the them off and put them in my pocket, but i don't know what to do with them. i suppose i will save them and throw them around my room when all the leaves are gone, when i'm lamenting the death of autumn. in retrospect i know that's really what fall's all about anyway; lamenting summer and youth and innocence and then the death of your favorite tree, and i sure as hell plan to do so with all of my heart. it's a time to smash pumpkins, shed summer skins, and sit down with someone and think about how ridiculously easy it all used to be when warm summer light shined brightly in all our eyes and we didn't need anything else to see by. and then, once you've reconciled with all of it, winter sweeps away the old landscape and replaces it with a blindingly white blank page that stares you straight in the face and dares you to start writing. “Oh God,” she cried, “I never knew what it meant to be real I thought all this was a joke, I never let the horror, or the sweetness & the dignity penetrate my brain.” –Jim Morrison, in Wilderness i feel like writing 489 journal entries of just obscure subject titles without feeling obligated to expand or explain. i don't know i just feel like being stupidly elitist and putting things that only i would fully understand, which hold a ridiculous amount of personal connotation that no one else would pick up. for instance the movie, million dollar baby, (((((It's the magic of risking everything for a dream that nobody sees but you.))))) holds a lot of positive significance in my brain though it might seem depressing as hell to other people. however, this whole idea of writing only personal words and phrases might not work too well, because i have smart friends and they can usually pick up on things pretty quickly. frankie: "so is jesus a demi-god?" priest: "there are no demi-gods ya fuckin pagan!" i have a good friend who remembers pretty much every single actor and movie that ever was created, or at least all of the ones that show up on movie trivia games. haha, harrison ford, harrison ford, jim carrey, jim carrey, tom cruise, al pacino (pa-CHI-no), sally fields, i swear its sally fields, don't look at me like that i know you watched that movie! steven spielberg, steven king, oh man I KNOW THIS ONE, what was i thinking?!? CITIZEN KANE you bastards! haha we all knew who the real winners were. sometimes i think my journal uncannily resembles silvia plath's: "...please don’t let me stop thinking and start blindly frightenedly accepting! I want to taste and glory in each day, and never be afraid to experience pain; and never shut myself up in a numb core of unfeeling, or stop questioning and criticizing life and take the easy way out. To learn and think: to think and live; to live and learn..." but that's not a warning or anything guys, i'm not planning on killing myself, promise. my head hurts and i'm still dealing with the fact that i have a broken heart and sometimes i ache all over because of all that having a broken heart entails, but i find myself ferociously defiant because i did it to myself and tonight was fun and filled with good vibes. if college is anything like this, i'll deal...too bad i think i'm going to YSU. i could almost feel the wind of chicago in my hair but i'm not allowed to move far away. sometimes i remember strangers much better than people with whom i've spent hours. for instance, i had a craving for pizza tonight so we walked to some convenient store before we went home and all these people were in the store smiling at me as if they'd wish me every possible good intention, and when we get the pizza and get in the car one of them walks out, nods, throws us a peace sign and his friend gives a little wave. i'll probably remember those two guys for a long time, because i'm a nerd. speaking of being a nerd one day i *cough* went to the mall and was turning a corner to meet someone at the food court, when i make eye contact with this guy who's about 30 feet away. as soon as he sees me this smile lights up his face as if he recognizes me from somewhere and i feel brave enough to return his gaze and smile for the 15 seconds where he walks briskley towards me as if he's been waiting to see me. when we reach each other he grins and says "how ya doin?" and i say "alright" and he says "well that's good" and walks quickly away to smile at someone else. i wonder how many other people he found returned his gaze. i figured it out, he was definitely god in diguise. sweet. i always wanted god to happen to me. haha. sorry if i'm an ass, god. i don't think i'm going to school tommorrow, it does such a great job of completely draining away any moments of creativity as i sit staring at my despicably candid history notes, which inadequately portray the lives of passionate people who waged wars, changed nations, and died for what they believed. so maybe i'll stay home and watch movies instead of competing with my peers for the title of "most intelligent" and preparing myself for standarized test questions that i'd forget even if they were useful, or trying to convince my brain that institutionalized learning will somehow benefit me in the future more than hitch-hiking with dharma bums. did i tell you guys it was a good halloween? it was a good halloween. 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Saturday, October 22nd, 2005
2:46 am	tell that child to stay wild it's an old, old feeling. a pure feeling, a warm one. it makes sense more than i allow anything else in the world to make sense. these notes are marked return to sender. i'll save this letter for myself. one thing is always true, how good it is to see you. see you. i am officially afraid of nothing as of right now: 2:49 a.m. eastern time, on the wee early hours of saturday morning, october the 22nd, 2005. we'll see how long it lasts. the ground is something constant under my feet. it's stationary as of right now, 2:50 a.m. but were that to change...i don't think i'd mind. one thing is always true, how good it is to see you, see you. oh i don't even care if the title of together is ours or not, you are my best friend in the whole world. your arms are total comfort zone and your blue hair is on my clothes, and breathing you in again was like coming home from too long of a trip and falling into bed. it's an alternate state of reality when my dizzy head is in your hands. things that save my mortal soul, as of right now (2:53 a.m.) 1. well, ok...you 2. watching the world wake up in the morning, watching it go to sleep late at night. 3. philosophy. i fucking love my brain. 4. thrice, but its gotta be loud and fast and waking me up at 7:12 in the morning. 5. anybody with the name vincent, as long as his last name isn't lucente. these vincents can be alive or dead, but preferably dead and endowed with cultural immortality. 6. singing, even though these days the only thing that matters at play is whether or not you can bump and grind. oh god. 7. the prospect of living like the reincarnated elizabeth barrett browning and robert browning (you were right, her name is elizabeth)...or we could be zelda and f. scott fitzgerald, it doesn't much matter to me 8. the album, "the color and the shape" though that probably applies to half the people who read this, after that concert. 9. the wonderful future 10. my face resting in the crevices of your neck plus the usual...pianos and anybody who can play them sweetly, movies, soundtracks, and a song in my head for every second of each day and that day that i didn't feel like going to school so i came before lunch... i watched the autumn leaves swirl around the cars on the roads but i didn't know if it was better than watching the fog swirl around in the morning, coming off of the lake and meander reservoir, looking like strange airy figures waltzing on the water and lifting lightly into the air. yup, my journal is at LEAST 24% cheese. the world is changing before my very eyes. go world. oh i feel infinite. and there's something about driving home at two in the morning with a car-full of people who are all falling asleep and listening to something quiet but good and you go through backroads because there's trees that create a canopy over the car and then fields with the moon shining down making half the grass blue and the lightning bugs flying all around, lights to match the sound, until you feel brand. new. tonight i'm tangled in my blanket of clouds, dreaming aloud. things just won't do without you, matter of fact. i'm on your back, i'm on your back, i'm on your back. if you walk out on me, i'm walking after you. if you’d accept surrender, i’ll give up some more. weren't you adored. i cannot be without you, matter of fact. i'm on your back, i'm on your back, i'm on your back. its after three, and i'm still unafraid. should i keep you posted? --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oh, the symphony need not cease. The symphony need not cease. (14 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, October 17th, 2005
5:21 am	it is such a secret place, the land of tears so i've been thinking. writing on those walls again. and i think i think too much. much much too much, but give me some time i'm still growing and almost there. plus we're always in repair. for some reason last saturday cleared my head like nothing else has for some time. the past friday was even better if you don't count the horrible ending of it because i locked my keys in my car and it was around 2:30 in the morning. i was rather ashamed of myself and my sister was more than perturbed. because the house keys were with the car keys, we literally had to break into our house through a window whilst trying not to wake my parents up. but it turned out all right. i got lost in a bookstore the other day for hours with someone who loves books just as much as i do. it was so grand, i think we looked at every single book at least once. i concluded that pictures of jimmy hendrix in his army uniform in front of a fake tropical backround cannot begin to compare with those of the incredibly photogenic bob dylan. he just takes pictures so damn well. the other night i tried in vain to learn some constellations but was distracted by the freezing cold and soaking wet ground. oh, i'm just so easily distracted. "but you are innocent and true, and come from a star..." "Little man," I said, "I want to hear you laugh again." But he said to me: "Tonight, it will be a year . . . My star, then, can be found right above the place where I came to the Earth, a year ago . . ." "Little man," I said, "tell me that it is only a bad dream--this affair of the snake, and the meeting-place, and the star . . ." But he did not answer my plea. He said to me, instead: "The thing that is important is the thing that is not seen . . ." "Yes, I know . . ." "It is just as it is with the flower. If you love a flower that lives on a star, it is sweet to look at the sky at night. All the stars are a-bloom with flowers . . ." "Yes, I know . . ." "It is just as it is with the water. Because of the pulley, and the rope, what you gave me to drink was like music. You remember--how good it was." "Yes, I know . . ." "And at night you will look up at the stars. Where I live everything is so small that I cannot show you where my star is to be found. It is better, like that. My star will just be one of the stars, for you. And so you will love to watch all the stars in the heavens . . ." i drove so many places the other night. the world's writhing in ectasy at my feet. nothing quite compares to the hugging and shaking hands and smiles and general goodness passed around after a play when all the familiar faces bombard one's atmosphere. it might be my favorite thing. haha plus all the fellowship shared back stage right before a show when we're all screaming i love you's, and grabbing each other because we're defecating our pants and freaking out for no reason. kelli: "ok, the pee is running down my leg, can we please just open the curtain now?" something else that makes me grin is when i'm sitting backstage and it's right after a big scene when the lights go out. fifteen people throw back the black curtain, rush off the stage and start throwing their clothes off and props at you and someone's always trying to be a bouncer and move people out of the way but no one is successful. then somehow everyone clears out of the way on their own and all things freeze as the lights go up, only to give way to utter havoc and chaos after they go down again. if you just sit quietly and observe it all from a neutral position, it's pretty grand. haha and being grabbed by that diane man after curtain call. that was one of the best hugs of the night, buddy. i was excited upon finishing my famous marshmallow dip made for fruits of any kind. i was going to make my cupcakes but they definitely require at least 6 hours of my time, due to my meticulousness in icing them. but i think i'll patent the marshmallow dip. too bad i might have lost my voice and singing auditions for "anything goes" are tomorrow. it all started when i woke up saturday morning coughing up spray paint. i should be starting my homework, or should have two hours ago. if i don't write a spectacular paper for pat fleming she will no longer think i'm fabulous. too bad dane's her favorite student. he's such a wanker, even if he can steal a show in a bright pink sequined jacket. but anyways here's to chain-smoking pixies and teonna ross. and here's to me not drowning myself in thought. *insert cheesy casablanca music* and here's looking at you, kids. (39 Comments |Comment on this)