Mo.D.

2012-02-10T06:12:00.002-05:00

Elonzo sighed and let his shoulders go.

'It's not the time for that,' he thought.
Suzy brushed her index fingers lightly across his eyelids and Elonzo let his ribcage loosen out. No way would he look at her. No way would he engage with her unlearned, suburban face.

As he exhaled, he whisked his keys from the square pocket of his army coat and left.

2012-02-08T04:54:00.003-05:00

Broken, running like a dud.
Slower than I've gone before but treading easily.
No drugs, no bottle
Nothing chemical to coddle
Even and learning
Leaning on my schedule
But if home is where the heart is
then I'd probably push the pedal of my Honda on the mat.

"So what's going on now, Lucy? You gotta talk about it?"

"Not really. It's just like--well, you know when you're kinda like, you left your drink there for too long and it gets warm?"

"Uh. . . yeah. That's gross, also."

"Well it's like that, except I'm not the drink. I'm the room temperature and I just keep warming your drink up."

"Ok. That makes no sense at all. But go on."

"I just can't stop. I mean, it's natural for me. This is how I am. And they want me to be cold like them. But I'm not cold. I'm like THIS."

"Ok. So who is the "They"?"

"You know. Them. All of them. All of them out there. The ones sitting. Watching TV. Gaming. Staring at you and forcing you to talk to them and being all nice to you but living in this mess."

"Sounds like there's a lot of them."

"No. There's not that many. Only about four or so. And that doesn't sound like a lot. But four against one is a LOT."

"Do they ever come at you all at once?"

"Sometimes..."

"Don't you just want to kick them?"

"You can't just KICK them Lindsay. I mean if I went around kicking them then I'd be just like them. I am not like them."

"You're not?"

"No. Remember that."

"Okay."

"Lindsay?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever get nosebleeds?"

2012-02-07T08:51:00.002-05:00

Dear life,

Let us do this together. There are one million miles for that many trials. The fit ones will win and the sinners shoot short. That still doesn't trust who my cohort is.

Faithful, dopey, goof and shy
The word of the wall is once and again

2012-02-07T05:21:00.001-05:00

I finished my mixtape. I'll post it tomorrow

2012-02-05T22:27:00.002-05:00

Dear screwed-up diary,

I'm rationalizing every negative thought that's erupting from my analyses but I really just want to nurse the ones made of self-loathing and lament.
But more than that I don't want to go there.

Regret is a poorly lit warm room that provides a serious contrast to the cold world out there. And I don't want to get sucked into that inviting settlement. Ditch. Twisted ad.

Yesterday I was a raven who went for it. By establishing a destination and making it, I felt equal parts liberated, wistful, and alone but alive.

I picked up a few books at the Berkeley Half Price. Namely Industrial Evolution: Through the eighties with Cabaret Voltaire. The introduction and back cover summary together lead me to believe that it's a book about a college guy who goes with his likes despite their uncertainty about future (financial, romantic, vital) security. He works difficult jobs via a temp agency and goes to school, at night making time for booze in bars, amphetamines, and music.

Between Industrial Evolution and Just Kids, I'm feeling a sick, wrong longing for my lost city life.

2012-02-04T19:11:00.007-05:00

Taking myself on another fucking date tonight. By myself. As fucking usual. I am done with Oakley, California. Not a complaint--the foundation of an action plan. I can't tolerate this wackness anymore. It's too weird, self-involved and cluttered for my life plan. I only have one life and I don't want to spend it like this.

2012-02-04T16:05:00.002-05:00

Sometimes I think about the best way to educate my children if they ever come to be. Despite my well-functioning brain and my strong curiosity for discovering why and how things worked the way they did, my parents never trusted me. They put bars up. They stepped in front of my car and said, "Don't go there." They hovered over me and hung there too long a time, motivated by fear and false ambition (some kind of late heaven)--oblivious about their attempts to squelch my developing mental health and emotional growth.

I'd like to reverse that and nurture my future people or person to be strongly in tune with his or her natural instincts. I'd like to foster people who trust themselves and act according to universal truths. People who examine reactions, stop to think, and identify actions that come to fruition by the light of fear.

In order to trust yourself, you may need experiences, and practice. Experts come to know their instruments with tumult and time. They practice, and they discern, and they may get loud. But they don't look away.

There's that old proverb that talks about the value of showing a man how to get there instead of just dropping him blankly at the final destination: "If you give a man a fish..."

It seems that to give a person the tools and the concepts (tested science and examined philosophy?) about living upright, confident, and well, along with absolute trust are much more powerful a shield than the hover of another destructible person. Teaching you evenly is much more a mark of love than looking down and longing for you not to screw up. When they baked a false halo using magic: the solitary prayer, it never did anything but suffocate my understanding, and my right to live here.

2012-02-03T03:06:00.003-05:00

"Jane?

"Yeah?"

"Why would I ever choose to live with the most annoying person on the planet?"

"Uh. . I dunno Lucy. Why would you?"

"Yeah. That's what I'm trying to get."

"Didn't you figure that out a long time ago, though? Like about how you were really out of your world, and you had that sorta boyfriend but it didn't really work out for whatever reason. And then you like, decided Tony was like, decent?"

"Yeah. . . Something like that."

"Well why'd ya do that?"

"I don't know, you know? It's like, so hard sometimes. Like, you know, one minute you wanna die and stuff, and then you're better and you have all these dreams. You know?"

"Yeah. . ."

"I dunno. I just wish things were like, different now."

"Well whuddya gonna do about it?"

Shrug.
"Beats me. I just wish Marley woulda been there. Now HE--"

"But you hate Marley!"

"No I don't!"

"Yeah ya do. We always used to laugh about his cowlick."

"But I love that cowlick. . ."

"Lucy. Lucy lucy."

"Whaa-aat. He like, totally likes me, and it like, took me awhile but he's really rad, you know? We can like, sit there for hours."

"And what? Talk about techno?"

"Nooo. Jane! Come ON. He won't even like, touch me. I swear it."

"Ha."

"Oh, what-ever. You're just like, mad because Tashlon didn't wanna go to Mel's with you."

"Well, yeah. . ."

"Well you need to totally get over that! Talson's such a dirtbag anyway. And Mel's was totally over after midnight."

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Ok."

"Jane?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you seen my diary?"

It's serious.

2012-02-01T13:32:00.005-05:00

Dear outdated blog,

I encountered the worst kind of person yesterday. During our conversation I kept thinking, 'This must be the girlfriend from hell.'

She was worried, and unfocused, and fixated on problems that hadn't happened yet--and would not happen if she stopped imagining consequences and started imagining herself presenting our topic in a confident, intelligent and educated manner (i.e. commit to doing the work.)
Something else was going on in that head, and it had nothing to do with our project.

I'm taking a Media Ethics course and our first project is to pinpoint a widely known media case that employs 1 of 7 ethical theories. Our group is focusing on John Stuart Mill's theory of utility.

You might know otherwise, but as far as I can judge myself immediately I think I rarely lose my temperament in conversation (because I can think easier when there's less tension in the room? I don't like conflict?--according to the ideology of enneagram (I'm a so-called 4.).).

But this girl was doing some high-powered verbal pushing like she wanted to bust my bolted-down standard of reasonable speech up out of its evenly-seated settlement.

We convened in our groups and were to begin comparing information. Our homework had been to do some light research on our assigned ethical theory and then bring what notes and print outs we had to class to help us carry our group discussions.

The group was slow to start so I jumped in to present my findings. I had done more research on Mill than his actual theory. But my feeling was that background was just as important as his end result. Where did it come from? Why did he put it together? And I ended up with some interesting notes about his father and his political way of thinking.

When I finished, the girl jumped in.

She asked about time, and went off topic about the media example we needed to bring to our presentation.

No feedback on anything I just said. And what I said wasn't necessarily important or relevant--but we needed to stick to making a foundation first: maybe a skeleton outline, but foremost, CONTENT.

She picked an argument with another group member for using an analogy that had nothing to do with the media. In 500 words or less she interrupted myself and everyone else so that she could verbally sit on the other group member and award herself points for pointing out his flaws (girlfriend from hell).

Usually, I can reason with someone to settle them down. I like Harmony. If I'm in a group and there is no harmony, I feel unbalanced and cluttered. It's important for me that people are on the same page. Because harmony, in some sense equals truth. And truth equals growth and all those good things, et cetera.

So as the volume of her voice is climbing and she's wandering about with her thoughts, I'm trying to pull her in. I have no desire to control her. I don't want anything to do with her, in fact. But she's making a mess of our group discussion, and everyone else is looking frustrated. So we need to diffuse her--the THIS and whatever else is happening in her head that has nothing to do with our meeting.

"Listen. Let's focus on content for now. Don't worry about time. We just need to get content, and a basic structure down about how to reveal our ideas."

And so I started to say, let's have a little background, an introduction about the theory itself, and analyze one media example using our ethical theory. I started to say that.

As soon as I said background, she cut me off to interject, "That's going to take FOREVER and we can't spend all that time on background. We need to find examples in the media of our theory. That's what the teacher SAID."

I tried a few more times and the I fell silent and waited until she was finished saying whatever.

Finally, I asked her point blank, "What are you concerns?"

She looked at me with an expression that was equal parts dull, vibrant, blank, bursting, undefeated and calculating (girlfriend from hell).

She was fearless and her insecurities were buried. She wanted to DOMINATE me. She wanted to dominate the entire group.

We didn't want that. We wanted to do our fucking project.

She just looked at me, and didn't say a word. She didn't want to work it out (girlfriend from hell).

We finally concurred to bring in an our own research for next class. She still kicked, fighting our organized nature.

"I thought you said we were going to talk about STRUCTURE. Now we're talking about the media examples."

What???

I hate that girl.

Also, she has ___ ______ (girlfriend from hell).

2012-01-30T00:18:00.004-05:00

Dear dead blog,

The light is a little bit low

and the the lid is a little bit big.

The left is square ahead
and the verve is half unhinged.

What's to become of the constant mod?

Who is the help that had never been kept.

If angels wept and wite moms cried
Where would we go if the ape man died?

Sincerely,

Minny Foster

2012-01-20T06:09:00.004-05:00

That had been the last of it. I'd emptied the last of my new electrolytes on dividing win from wan. I hadn't wanted to, but I was disastrously drawn to the dark, hard lies that slipped easily in between the neat, precise kind. It had been mine, yet it was certain a reaction from that--the way the fizz lets up but the way it bursts when the stop goes interrupted. And not just anyone might have attracted such kind. The ones who grip the invisible handles are the ones who easily lose their breath. With no bar, their muscle can only bear such pull for not that long. But to bruise yourself with facts like that is to bend back and chew glue--that try took too long to turn around.

In this stage, you will deck your former score with a method old pros use: To ignore force. To ignore with force. To curse feeders. And to find an activity that buys all your time. Every second not mine.

We Don't Need to Try to Eat Paste (Anymore)

2012-01-20T05:01:00.003-05:00

And instantly I knew the sky
A bleeding-heart dreamer with a patch on my eye
And muscled-low, I leaned away
It looked aloud and not OK
My gait was loose and lapsed against
The glaring fact that fit my face,
'Her art is sworn and tongue is drawn
By sight, by Moon, she's best if gone.'
By sharpened form and fumbling dine
I ambled on
Despite my crime
For he who bends
And she who screams
In knee and gut both
Agony
Becomes the drum of one of dark
By curtain, crawl, and count
We start

2012-01-20T02:41:00.004-05:00

Well, if that's what you see
or seek
Making it with your own two hands
is key
Because most of them can't articulate
the size of the pinholes in your vision
(They sense them because they have some too
But it's a dumb game)
So if that's what you need
Say it
And if no one responds
To hell with the calm of the space between your stare
And their back
It's so open
And your own mind has closed in on the clarity of one picture
--Vastness, one large, blooming vice of it
does not fit in to the very detailed steps that trade in your work
for your earned fortune
So fuck the warriors that fight your mind
Even when you're trying
They're not prepared to die

2012-01-20T01:57:00.002-05:00

Lithe not Little
Lost not Alone
Looking isn't Hunting Hold
Crow revokes its loan
to her

The golden rule is used wrong.

2012-01-20T01:33:00.005-05:00

GRacing the Stages of Ad-just-meant less to Find
The LandLord was hoarding her
For Fucking In His Mind

Benefactor Female Seeking Something Left Behind
Oh, it's last year's Loser streaking

What a toned behind

Why'd I welcome money
When I could've gotten dime-piece, baby
Who the fuck has money, honey
Who the hell's alive

I'm usually level-happy when the phone's off the hook
I'm super elevated when I pass the second glance
The chance might vanish
And the art is gonna choke
Look, I'm spelling overrated

Own the smoke machine

Toast

Here's to all resistance,
(win)
the will of all Endkind.

2012-01-13T03:51:00.004-05:00

Everything tastes like slime.
I started on my routine bowl of evening soup and couldn't even leave it clean. I usually do. And then I scour for a sweet thing.

I didn't want to go to bed hungry so I found the leftover vegetables. Those didn't want to go down either. I moved on to the fried (ew) tofu. I had two squares. The initial bite was satisfying but the aftertaste was truly putrid. I regretted finishing them. But my higher-mind desires a nourished, functional body. Despite my aversion to wicked, non-consciously processed foodstuff, my right mind wants to survive.

Something isn't right, though. I feel apt to reject edibles. I've been feeling weak and dizzy since Monday. I'm not sure why. I slept for 26 hours and felt well-er, but the thought of forcing food down made me feel ill. Tomorrow I will try oatmeal and toast.

2012-01-12T03:44:00.005-05:00

I know where home is always at
I know whats left to get to
Every grating on my temples
Is the compass getting set
there

Nausea in all its ways
Retains the war
in all its forms
Wave, big pink
Plummeting your planned creation

Cell Dwellers Sit with the Listless And Lose/The Listless Look Lost But the Causes Aren't Strong/Send in the Snow Globes, Send in the Yarn/Yammer in

2012-01-12T01:26:00.005-05:00

the Nimble Shine Before it Ambles On

"You look sick," I said.
"Sorry?" she said to me.
You look sick," I said. "You look like you feast on the fire's clay."
I paused, and dropped worse into her eye.
"I clip the breeze.
I comb the bay."
"Also, you called me sick the other day," I said, descending back into myself.
I turned my head and stared with a bucket of colored pencils, still speaking evenly to her.
"You said I looked orange."
"Uh-huh," she said, still texting.

The gods

2012-01-07T07:27:00.003-05:00

Three out of the four books I've read in the past two months (minus a dictionary of difficult words) have surely, technically talked about the role of God, or the gods, in the functionality of our planet. Its hard for my newer, hard-working mind to follow--this reference to a higher power--because of my intense religious conditioning of youth. I've just begun to find a way around the world that is truer to a way to live well, and the talk of gods disturbs me. I'm also writing on a blackberry-like phone that has a terrible browser so I can't express my other thoughts on God or these books at length.

2011-12-19T04:02:00.003-05:00

Suburbia. Come the end of the year, I'm getting out of here.

Reasons to leave:

1. Retail
2. Derr/Dumbness
3. Isolation
4. Dissolution (of my dreams)

Reasons to believe:

1. Free rent
2. Non-threatening people
3. School

The fact is, you can't really live at a retreat. A retreat exists to make you stronger so that when you face the world you've developed something to hold on to. (Reflection equals learn-ed-ness equals a file to draw back on when you're like, oh, shit. I've been here before. So since A DEFINITELY did NOT work last time/elicited outcomes way out of my favor, uh. . . let's try B this time.)
The long you linger there the lamer you look. and feel. when you finally come out.
You can't foster wisdom in a place where the toxins have escaped. They're going to get back in you.

FUCK!

I received a rather generous email from a new friend. She said we're friends, and that friendship is unconditional. That scared me because friends complicate things.
Friendship is reciprocal.
And I'm selfish.

I don't think I was so selfish when I got here. Just scared. and blank. I can't remember thinking things. My mind was a pariah; my body boldly balked at it and went along the day.

Cod, I gotta make a plan.

I'm sort of making plans. I have plans to write a book.
I better stick to them.
I'm thirsty.

2011-12-17T04:04:00.010-05:00

While reading a book review by a recently deceased journalist, I had to stop mid-paragraph and study a quote he cited.

The quote is by Deepak Chopra.

"Our thinking and our behavior are always in anticipation of a response. It [sic] is therefore fear-based."

That quote was like an umbrella that covered the peaks and valleys of my feelings over the past week.

If I interpret it to my liking, it's a quote that places the blame on the feeling and not the feeler. (That is, this is how the feeling just IS. You can learn to control it, but this is how it is otherwise when it rests.)
It says how thinking proceeds when one is lame and then hit.

If his impulses develop (remain) without exercise, the immediate wave of elation or grief that follows an exciting conversation will mark the sand.

One old goal is to control the wave. Get in tune with the feeling as it develops.
Allow the wave to meet the sand because its descent is the end of a natural cycle.

It bends (relying build) gently.
The sand is thus without mark, or lesser dented until.

It's true

2011-12-14T04:32:00.007-05:00

On October 27, 2011, I read the short story of Jonathan Livingston Seagull.

Jonathan said:
“If our friendship depends on things like space and time, then when we finally overcome space and time, we’ve destroyed our own brotherhood! But overcome space, and all we have left is Here. Overcome time, and all we have left is Now. And in the middle of Here and Now, don’t you think that we might see each other once or twice?””

I reiterated:
He doesn’t need the perk of a friend at his side. They are together whenever, in spirit and mind. Together they build, without fear of goodbye.

I needed that food. And I need to find the above quote, and to discover that I could think/write steadily just a month ago.
I'm so glad for shared art right now: the literature of others and my sad attempt at deconstructing it.

2011-12-14T03:13:00.006-05:00

I need someone to talk to about this. Someone who can take me out for a drink and say, yeah, it's not going to be okay--
But it's cool cuz we're hanging out right now.

Someone with life experience. Someone who takes care to consider, realizes that sudden blame is
so selfish.

She quavered to me on the phone later.
"It's horrible.
[My name,]
It's
horrible,"
she said.

Silence.

I didn't know what to say. I can't ever break down in front of them; won't.
They need a strong one.

I feel heart heavy.

I felt sick this morning when I got her call. I was half asleep, getting extra rest before my Biology final.

She was stoned.

I can't whine about choosing this. I have to make an escape plan or accept its pros.

You ever hear of Howard Tate? He passed away this month. I heard his story on NPR while inching along the bend that happens at Fish Ranch Road causing traffic to slow.

A preacher's son, he stretched his voice in church and caught the ear of the industry. His feature record "Get It While You Can" peaked, capturing the attention of Janis Joplin. Her rendition was a hit.
Meanwhile, Tate, acclimating to his new fame, quelled his nerves by tasting Cocaine. He opened for Marvin Gaye and hit the streets shortly after. Throughout the years he battled addiction, homelessness, and finally died of cancer.

In the years before he passed away he cleaned up and became a preacher. His former producers sent him demos and in his late adult life, he landed in the studio again.

His delivery is striking; mighty, passionate, impulsive and old.

Do or die. Fall or fly.

Here's to the worst of us.

2011-12-11T04:10:00.004-05:00

Fuckkk my liiiffee. What the fuck am I doing here.
It's safe.
And mentally challenged.
I hate TV, and I hate video games, and I hate toys.

I wanna be around masterminds who dig authors and shit and seek out interesting knowledge and innovate.
Fuck my stupid ass decisions.

At least I'm back in school. School has been my anchor amongst the homebase drainage.

Biology is so awesome, by the way.

This is bullshit, though.
Maybe I'm just a total bitch.

I was telling a co-worker my life story today. Noone knows anything about me here. And that's useful. But I was telling her my life story, and it all sounded so ridiculous. I can't even connect to any of it. And I'm taking steps to develop the next phase of my life, but I still haven't let go of the head rush that the last few years were. I learned so much, and I got so twisted. And then I thought, this is it. I'm finished with that. Packed up. But it was like starting at the bottom all over again. I didn't know where I was, so I didn't know who I was, and I had nothing to wish for because there was nothing worth wanting. How can you want when everything you like goes away? How can you want when you didn't want to let it get away? How much more can you force a charging will to fall backward?
Stuff like, I held onto myself in the pretend sense.

And then we have another story just about ready to get published. She used, and she used, and she didn't really have a will. She asked for satisfaction. She didn't know the definition of it and picked the prettiest, shiniest, softest, most melodic sounding and looking ONE because it was the loudest. My god. I'm not even there like I was for him, at least. Why the hell is my world like that?
She's operating on herself in the most reckless way. Is she gonna die too? I can't even take it seriously because it seems so inevitable. That was what she practiced every day. That was her meditation. That was her mantra. When you make an unrealistic goal and take steps to live it every day, it becomes routine.

Did I pick wrong? That looms. I'd like to offer the possibility that it wasn't a choice because that's how I was conditioned. I was conditioned to be on GUARD. When you get misused you learn to choke back your emotions so it doesn't happen again. So they're not exposed for getting pissed on.

Oh. The way I've survived it thus far is by ignoring my likes. Sometimes they sprout out like thorns, jabbing the one that hugs me, and the hugger is all, ow. And I'm like what? That's how it is. But then the thorns go back into my skin and I'm a shell holding the rest of me in.

Why doesn't he have the drive? When I got here, I was all, I'm going to be the best. I'm going to bust my ass and get a job and be an equal. And he was all,
ok
breadwinner.

And I was all
?????????
Don't you wanna go up??

And he was all,
grow-up??
YOU grow-up.

And I was all
..................

And my silent superconfusion acted as a good piece of driftwood for us to float along a long long time on.

UNTIL

we merged midnights and I couldn't turn anywhere.
It was soft and warm and not hard to refuse. A resting spot.

Based on a potted old intense personality.

Just now beginning to sprout.

2011-11-29T16:50:00.003-05:00

Beat a dead horse. Death becomes her. How dead can a person get. Walking without expression, mechanically compounding every daily task into one rational pathway that must be done.
Who does that?
I feel guilty for expressing anything. Like it's wrong. Like, rationally, these responses to shoddy life expreiences are one big bad complaint. I don't get cake..

2011-11-29T07:38:00.004-05:00

I've never felt so dead. Or sad. Right now I feel dead. and sad. I want to die. I can't wait to die.
I'm emotionally stunted. I'm naturally a private person and I'm facing these situations that are sucking out my insides and turning them into soup for everyone else to slurp and I can't face them. I can't face any of it.
Once I am dead, I won't have to barter feelings with selfish people in this bullshit, competitive, fake, self-serving world anymore.
I am finished.
It feels like there is no goal.
I feel like I made a mistake.
too many.
im tired and sad
nice bones in my body are fossilizing.
we all die anyway

2011-11-27T02:28:00.002-05:00

Numbhappy. This what it's come to? Blur of same, life spent for electronic painless. Numbhappy.
Home is short, family shy.
Numbdumb.
Nothing here, nothing in his head.
Fuckin' laughter
leaning on brands.
Numbhappy.

2011-11-02T04:21:00.004-04:00

As if I were six in the silhouette of sixty
Statically attached to a chair before the door
The monitor reflects how the present
wrestled nothingness
Never let it loose again
Never let it stir

As if I were stuck in the intermembrane telethon
Warding off the H's in the pathway to my stasis hold
No one sees the grievances of being highly elevated
Everyone around the world is wading in my way

No one sees the grievances of being like the rest of me

(She is)
reading from the east
When the west is just her home.
She is
asking for a brush
when she really needs a COMB

Ask yourself hard questions.

2011-10-31T03:51:00.001-04:00

The harder the questions, the better the paper.

Super False

2011-10-30T13:36:00.001-04:00

http://superfalse.wordpress.com

Wordpress

2011-10-27T01:20:00.001-04:00

http://mirelaagata.wordpress.com/

2011-10-18T14:32:00.006-04:00

Dear Blog,

I'm feeling the anxiety right now. I need to slow down. I just drove all the way home to print out an essay on my computer that I forgot to bring with me. I missed my first class to do so. I am half relieved I was forced to miss class because the teacher gives me nightmares. I had a dream about him one night. He was scolding me and I started sobbing.
Half in fear of missing his class because he bears his burdens on everyone, is the worst instructor to sit through. I learn nothing from him. I could read the book and ace the exams fine. I need to breathe. School is. . . shaping me with discipline, but leeching me of life, and slashing important time from my goals.

I'm bringing my guitar today. I need to jam out and just clear the fuck outta my mind.

I was also startled today by an old dude in a Honda. I had just come out from shopping at Trader Joe's. I went to get breakfast and a snack, and emerged from the store to put the stuff in my trunk. I'm standing there, stuffing Clif bars into my purse, wrapped up in facts about my upcoming quiz, when suddenly I hear an idling engine behind me and, "hey good looking." I didn't turn around and he repeated it. It startled me because the parking lot was nearly empty. And I wasn't feeling particularly flirty or sultry or even "good-looking." I'd chosen to wear all black this morning to match my serious mood. I'd foregone the makeup, the hair-drying and the boots (for trainers). Here's this old man catcalling at me. It startled me. I wanted to make a story out of it because it was truly strange. Except it's not out of the ordinary for men to chant out of their windows at young girls.
I'm not that young anymore, but I'm not feeling any more put together.

I met with a counselor about my transfer essay. She didn't say anything good about it. She told me that I had to talk about my former church life. I don't want to write about that shit. It's behind me.

Kim and Thurston are divorcing. It's a victory cry for anyone who feels trapped in their routine. A light that transcends age, and fake ideal. It was a long time coming, apparent in the lyrics of their records.

The truth is, we are young, born in the something. . . Love is a battlefield. Love is a battlefield.

XA

2011-09-23T09:33:00.005-04:00

There was a time when I anticipated the white space. A new slur figured itself out of a series of big hits against the gained cage
or unrequited commentary riled self-evaluation.
I'd sling the misfortune over my shoulder and feel its weight;
wade in its mechanics/semantics.
The weaknesses were edited into useful truths. The truths a multipurpose coup.
Something ought to be learned; something worth speaking evenly, strongly on, loomed and I was letting my gut shine and reveling.

[This event frames a dialog on health standard.]

There was a time when I cut up the moment with a utility knife. Lest I die again, around the curb was only another step further
if and only I could refine thine strut.

Self-Aware, Spitting Wisdom (Yes, You May Display A Tissue In Front For Your Face Isn't Ageless)

2011-09-12T23:21:00.002-04:00

"I was a short, annoying, existential, [person]-repelling mess—but I KNEW that. I honored that. I defended that. And as intimidated as I super-incredibly was in that alien environ, I never lost that."

ATD

2011-08-30T02:29:00.005-04:00

When I was younger, "getting it" (not that) was a prime trait to be found in my top-rated associates. I allowed allies in based on his or her awareness of the concept of a cause.

Later I did not know what that attention to detail meant. What was this "who got it" and why was it so important? Why did I worship awareness instead of memorized education or object?

Tonight the answer snapped back into place. She "gets it;" understands the human condition; uses empathy liberally to handle an ego; uses a steady face to draw facts (not dead laughter to fit inside a scene well;) finds pleasure in putting wit to work.

In the West facing a window

2011-08-19T00:22:00.001-04:00

“There stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. Into this she sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul.”

2011-08-14T03:13:00.001-04:00

In my songs I am looking for innovation, pain, precision, passion, resolve and pulse.

2011-08-12T23:32:00.001-04:00

As the lamp clouded low
by the thickness of my sheet--
As my eyes traced the threaded rose,
the shuffle of his feet
faded hard

Wherefore art thou?--Spokeo? Told-me-so?
Sleep my bother Dance my given
Wilted, social love

My capsule's in a barnyard somewhere, over your shoulder

Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

As the lamp clouded low
by the thickness of my sheet--
As my eyes traced the threaded rose,
the shuffle of his feet
faded out

2011-08-12T01:30:00.004-04:00

Is "love" just "future food"? It seems really stupid to my pea brain that we are here and that we then expire. Why can't we know? It was all so clear in my pursuit of business: fall in; win. Now that I've unraveled for the sake of making something else work it feels futile to allow myself to perpetuate (empty? family-driven? fluttery?) expression when inevitably I will scrape my knee on the pavement someday, and feel it deeply. Empathy is a symptom of the poor. . .

Ultimately, I am not just this; I am inches to you or him or another one. Respect is not an empty vessel. Surely someone else will always purpose his- or herself. It is why I should not act on whim, or encourage/permit numbness.

2011-07-28T05:43:00.002-04:00

Dear Blog:

Today, I panicked over my perceived grade.

It's okay now.

Later, I will be in New York.

I hope to hit up some record stores, Beacon's Closet and to check out the progress on venue that got broken into.

It's going to be weird.

I also hope to see some friends.

This song is the greatest:

2011-07-26T22:50:00.003-04:00

By tomorrow evening this time, I will be in full vacay mode. To publicly recap why this upcoming week is so important to me and why I am so stoked to be working on my final project of the summer (due tomorrow:)
During my six weeks in MD, I wrote 9 articles including 1 front page story, 3 grade-A papers for my summer class, and worked a shitty part time job that paid okay but didn't skimp on the double shifts per week.
My feat is not amazing, but the responsibility element was strong and my stress levels were sky high.
I'm ready to party.
And maybe spend money.

2011-07-25T00:08:00.002-04:00

I could really use my guitar right now. I'm having one of those noisy, homeless moments where nothing is real, and no one is here.
And that's the way it always looks.

The least of the appeal is a very strong inner law that lost sight when the carrier ran a red light.
Instant wind whisked the dust up.
Piles settled in its eyeballs
And law knew not--
Bus smiled a lot.

But something was off.
They could feel it.

Less than 8 and twice by 4 the hours ordered non-reform
And yielded less than twin return
Until the loop was lost again

Somebody tell cab
How to get there
Let's again

2011-07-22T16:33:00.010-04:00

I wonder if people are animals gone wrong. We're the ones that have stopped to give ourselves personalities instead of move along with rightness. We're the ones who have removed ourselves so far from instinct that we question ourselves around in circles, missing the point in the middle.
Maybe I am just the one gone wrong. Is it okay to be wrong? No.
Yes, but no. Because yes means acknowledgment, which means consciousness, which supposes you should move along from your conceded wrongness to make yourself true.
Why do I begin my casual sentences with, "Yeah, but"?
In lieu of feeling?
And what is feeling, and why is it important? Is feeling instinct?
And what is disrespect? Reaction, or not reacting harshly enough to an earnest but unpopular question?
Violence bugs me, and I expect forgiveness for my sincerity when my nervousness translates my sentences with "mean"-ing, but what of the stumble? If I can't achieve immediately, why should I?
If I desire to give up, why is that? How can I reach past that present desire to see why, and deal with the root of the problem?
Why must our thoughts wander...
Why must we work ourselves into the ideal, muscular, dynamic force, only to meet walls when we live with people that do not share our proactive way of life? To dialog with the emotions of others who do not share your goals, and your victories, are wearying (in theory or in full effect?)
To interact with non-mind readers is worse.
How are you supposed to continue to be an incredible, impenetrable influence without anything also impervious to lean on?

I dearly miss hugging others, and loving my friends for the sake of their emotional happiness. Is that an embarrassing emotional admission from a wrong drive to love, or is that what love is--hovering? Is loving enabling? Is love something else? Do people need people to lean on? How far out of our instincts are we? Raised from babies on heavy words and scheduling that produced fiercely loyal adolescents. Nowadays I demand rightness, because structural accuracy is important for building things, and not everyone else's feelings are right--if mine are not. Should we value something over what-could-be? Should we employ rejection to lighten our pockets and make us free? Is that where evil comes from? Is that why people hurt other people? Is God really out there? Is doing things and creating things really the key to happiness? Well what if it's not a perfect thing--does that count? Will it become perfect the more you use it and develop it? Should we applaud stupidity for trying? Or is trying stupider than doing while being? Can I answer these questions myself if I keep writing about them? Or will I continue to move in circles and miss the center point if I don't stop to decide. But what if I decide wrong?
Where are your parents, young lady.
Is humor a tool, or a false tool, or something useful that is not a tool, or not any (something else? total wrong? just there?)?
How long does it take to recover? Muscles can develop, but they grow old. Is instinct covered up?

2011-07-18T14:56:00.002-04:00

Jupiter is big, just be-cause.

2011-07-18T11:58:00.004-04:00

Hey Blog,

Today is already both a major failure and minor success.

Emotionally, I feel wilted. My family is a big drain again.

I had a lot of hope when I was planning my trip back.
I envisioned my sister and I in a productive alliance. We would chat all night in the basement and make music with a tiny amp and collaborate creatively. We would gossip about our lives and trade bits of wisdom about how we've figured it our or have not managed to get past a big tick like standard-of-lifestyle versus poor routine.

That will not be so.

She likes aggressive, masculine music that I can't relate to.

My success will be counted as getting back up.
I missed a deadline for my English class, but I still did the work, and turned it in. Despite the fewer points I will receive for my late entry, I give myself points for following through; continuing to do the work.

Following through is my most recent baseline. There's a lot you can count against you: time, family, poor education, lack of money, no transportation. But if you can pick one thing, and accomplish it, that contributes to: time well-spent, personal development, continuing education, prosperity, forward motion.

Commitment is my most recent equivalent to spirituality.

I had a long conversation with a friend last night about spirituality and I was able to verbally realize many points that I haven't spoken about with anybody. I talked about how since my brother's death I haven't felt any of the invented feelings of spirituality that plagued (guilted) me through youth. I have instead decided to support that the facade of religion and spirituality is rampant; how we don't know anything and how there are no coincidences because the truth is that things happen and collisions are a part of life. She, on the other hand, lamented the fact that no one still carries beliefs in the karma and spiritual energy that guides her through to success. She relished her mother's spot-on intuition. I diluted her mother's sixth sense as matter-of-fact.
It was a win-win end where we both kept our way but cherished the other's lecture.

2011-07-18T02:19:00.001-04:00

Original scholars faintly ape the open shell; collectively stand-alone.

Conversing with considered and peg-leg parts of major corporations caps spending.

2011-07-16T01:37:00.004-04:00

Political views? Religious views?

Once had a solid value system: plan honest; do now; support local talent but don't be afeared of feeling like a little fish (eat.)

2011-07-16T01:26:00.002-04:00

Where is that brief grip with white marks left to deny me my right to be afraid.
No longer
ever stronger.
Strength in routine.

"Beets Me"

2011-07-14T01:01:00.025-04:00

Offender: Kvass Raw! Beet Ginger Juice, product of Zukay Live Foods
Ingredients: Water, Organic Beets, Organic Ginger, Celtic Sea Salt, Live Active Culture
Serving size: 6 oz
Calories per serving: 20
Servings per bottle: 2
[Total Carbohydrates 4g (1g Dietary Fiber, 2g Sugars), Protein 1g, Vitamin C 4%, Iron 2%]

This is one of worst natural juices I've ever purchased and polished off.

I've juiced beet-carrot combinations at home before, and more recently I tried the Trader Joe's brand Beet & Purple Carrot 100% juice blend.

I don't have the ingredients list at my side, but DailyBurn.com describes the TJ's drink as "a blend of beet, purple carrot and lemon juice concentrates," which I believe is accurate. I try not to buy juices if the first ingredient is not what the label boasts (like a blueberry juice where the lead element is apple juice for sweetness or mango juice that is mostly cane juice) or if the blend is made of concentrates.

So I'm not totally unfamiliar with the flavor of juiced beet--independent and in combination.

I have even enjoyed a carrot ginger drink now and then at the local Whole Foods for the totally ridiculous price of 7 dollars plus tax. The fresh squeezed mixes were naturally warm, as juices have been suggested to me to be so as not to 'shock' your body. (Or so I've heard from health-conscious friends. I don't know much about this but it sounds sort of reasonable. I'll have to do some research. But also room temperature produce extract is completely non-refreshing, like a warm Blue Moon.)

So based on my experience with beets, and even ginger blends, I thought I could handle Zukay's thing, despite the sketchy Sea Salt additive.

--I'm pretty sure the attempt at making it a savory blend is its failing point.--

Their beet ginger juice is so gross.

I first tried Zukay's Kvass Raw! Beet Ginger drink at the start of work before I put it in the fridge to keep until lunch hour.

Sea salt in the back of my mind, a part of me knew I was screwing myself when I put it to my lips and gulped. I drink carrot juice for the mild sweetness, and the beet matches that flavor in blends, adding some sharpness.
But beet-carrot juice still sweet.

Beet-salt-ginger juice is not.

After swallowing my initial Beet Ginger sip I wanted to vom. There was nothing pleasing about the taste. It was all attack.

Most people would likely toss the entirety of it right there. But. . I like to pretend I have a death grip on the raw foods thing. I'm natural at acting adamant, betting on the best of an outcome before I react, and I'm usually able to ease myself into a new, exciting flavor.

So I waited a second and then I took another sip just to make sure I wasn't missing something.

The sea salt intensified the following sip with non-bliss
just as much.
Ruined the juice; made it putrid.

I put it back in the fridge behind my coworkers' meal condiments like hiding it behind a sugar-contaminated cartridge of Soy Joy would relax the purple, ashy aftertaste from my beet-stung tongue.
Brought it home with me when my day was over and didn't touch it until later tonight.

Around midnight, I knew what I had to do.
Determined, I diluted the remainder and mixed it with Trader Joe's brand Omega Orange Carrot Juice.

The taste was mostly masked.

I'd like to say I won't be buying Kvass Raw! Beet Ginger beverage again. But I have this bad habit of going back for things that don't immediately agree with me. This sensual hostility extends to people. . .
It doesn't extend to art.
So I'll try not to buy it again, because I hate it, and I'll have to dilute it.

And/ButAlso--despite the sick taste, I did feel energized after I drank it.
I didn't want any other foodstuff in my system that would taint my natural snack.

2011-07-11T04:55:00.001-04:00

Seeing things, places, persons as they are, are made for and should be treated is essential to forward motion; growth; like the shape of a wheel is why it fits under a vehicle.

2011-07-11T03:37:00.002-04:00

I don't know what I wish but I really wish that what happened forever wouldn't pave a certain pathway for my latest adventure.

Sober adventures are a vivid scene / without the glass between.

Hey, awake.

2011-07-11T02:29:00.001-04:00

Welcome to a downtown Sunday night: Top DJs bumpin the illest music to a half packed room for 5 bux.

2011-07-10T17:05:00.001-04:00

Assumption ruins conversation.

2011-07-10T04:53:00.004-04:00

One later realized that because of one's past (to be a young bench in loquacious sleepwalker's pathway) one never truly knew that to be intimate was to be less defensive. Because not everybody was like that (an offensive liar.)
Defense was the worser education one got in middle school.

One summer lie:

2011-07-10T04:36:00.004-04:00

I'm home and it feels so beautiful to be here. It's like everything is back in place.

(Seasons change.)

When A Bubble Blows

2011-07-10T04:01:00.011-04:00

One can't stop thinking about that lopsided conversation.

We were all walking up the angled brick wall toward a capitol-shaped landmark, and one thought one would play catch up with the only other organ-kin in the group. Earlier one and the other had a moment among peers where the other asked one a simple background question, and one couldn't say. And one waited. And instead of another why, the other held pause, and it was silent until the crowd exploded in a fit of reaction.

Revealed.

One was blocked by one's desire to be free; to be non-related to an ellipsis-sort who lays the slang on so thick its short haircut is showing.

The right moment

On the walk, one was ready--and had been waiting--to explain because of one's belief in time collapse. Time is collapsing and we don't have a moment to lie. So one laid it out. And the other felt comfort shrink as the other looked around and realized, 'Oh. I am unique here.'

The other began to build case against one's Decision. One began to lose one's decision and let the case take over, like a large hammer laying knots on the temple and center cranium of one's level head. Soon one's head grew big and above one's decision, while the other tackled objectivity.

One might have challenged the other's knowledge of Decision. Details? One might have loosened the other's rosy view of the other's seal-ly figure. Credentials? One might have made the denouement, you don't even know your Q's from P's you leaking confidant; look at this: I'm letting you trip; and smirked about the besting the other physically, mentally, and mortally.
Repeat how the other got teased slowly please?

One can't stop thinking about that easy win, and why the other fucked itself openly and the wane waved away.

Sharper images,
Shorter collapse.

2011-07-10T02:52:00.002-04:00

When the lure was noticed as its glamourous reflection
It infected Fossy even once before she bit
Saucer hazels swimming toward its spinning forward figure

-Neon molded mollusk bate
Born to bruise and bread ornate-

Fossy wanted fancy for a figure made to waste

2011-07-09T23:42:00.003-04:00

Dear summer weekend hangover: I thought our pact was fact.
We were not to meet again.
Dumb, afternoon numb and late-night not hungry.
Dancing loose
and a little puke-y.
I dumped the remainder down the drain.
Shouldn't buy another
but it was fun.

2011-07-09T07:34:00.002-04:00

Is it right to feel this dead
Laid flat on your contract
Holding back . . .
Valued about being above
A vintage love
vouched for work purpose

You're my two-by-four
And I'm your son
Search my junk
Mmhm, I'm gone

2011-07-09T06:06:00.002-04:00

2011-07-09T05:34:00.002-04:00

Cuz you can't just whine your way to the top. It's like patience and strategy and sacrifice.
Should have played it better, smarter thriftier, leader-ly, less hot (reactive.)

And not like "playing" as in bullshitting, but plotting the overall out even so every veteran and minion walks away satisfied.

2011-07-09T05:31:00.000-04:00

Feelings over fact are not an affordable finance for anyone, ever. EV-ER.

2011-07-09T04:59:00.003-04:00

Harnessing that good feeling that you have had, and now have, and know what happens after, and fighting to feel even instead of heaped--to flatten/disperse the height of an awesome hang--, as in this is what makes an adult.

No.

2011-07-09T04:15:00.003-04:00

I think I have to write about this, just to puncture the bubble.

Shit.
This isn't it.
I'm not doing what I want, and I'm selling my wellness to what I should have wasted years ago.
Not shit, because I didn't.

"Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results."
--AA

I have to keep that in mind.
I did, tonight, but I also didn't really want to avoid the hour. I wanted it. I wanted to live it. I wanted to be honest but I wanted wring it all out. I wanted to let myself want.

Want is a very precious force. So precious, that it often gets stolen from our bodies and replaced with terror. Other bodies rent our want and leave terror as collateral. It's a sick cycle that makes us physically sick, and we can't function right enough to fill our piece of the puzzle. Fixed, we all hold the puzzle up together. Broken, as we wade in terror, we crumble up the puzzle, parting ways with our fortune and leaving an empty space. It's tragic, the manner in which we go seeking elsewhere to seclude the supposed-s that push us down. Supposed to. Priced lower than. Precious. America. We live in America and we literally lose our freedoms in a moment of lost hope. Maybe. . . but there is no maybe. There is only this, that, the parameters of dysfunction and the outline of production.
Drunks don't meet the white line first.
One lukewarm mind will always wonder what goes beyond their eyes, blood, thunder, womb.
Basically, Reverend Scary had it really bad and decided that everybody wasting their lives could use a straight up doctrine that said do this, not that, and be here, because everywhere else is just another Old Globe Theatre.
I think.
It's like not being able to see a disease but watch a formerly normal person decay, and knowing that something is going on, and not knowing how to stop it.

2011-07-08T04:47:00.002-04:00

How it makes me feel both terrible and on top of the world.

2011-07-06T06:36:00.001-04:00

To prove your breath close after your death,

2011-07-04T23:31:00.005-04:00

say it and mean it.
Mark of a good minder: using action to reveal details.
Mark of a muscle-flexed writer: everything is a thing. It responds and spites. Some thing is dented and it stays that way for the sake of its total participation and a right to endure birth.
And if it doesn't feel best yet, let it go on and on 'til it is familiar.

2011-07-03T05:02:00.007-04:00

I really have to plan this writing spree more thoroughly.

Plan, budget, do before die.

I'm still young but I feel my youth slipping away as I man a counter, sit up straight and stumble over scripting a summary of someone else's ideas. I desperately want to take the bend, skip the introductions and jump face first into fray. But that's a lie, because my desperation fainted as we began to head away from Colorado two winters ago.

I don't know if I can be a subordinate.

I may be more useful as a ringleader, a planner, an example, a director, a Big Voice.

I'm here in M a r y l a n d where there are Real People (My California city is far removed from any waking, graduating, 9 to 5 civilization and I feel quiet, boxed and a little bleak there. There are open roads and fields for to place home built stages at the head of but I don't have many team members to huddle with about stuff like this.) I wish we could band together and create fruit.
I picked up my sister's guitar today and I missed mine. I haven't even cut my nails in three weeks.

I miss my music making tools.

I need a fake job that gives me a decent sum per year again.

2011-07-03T02:49:00.003-04:00

Flipping the cushion to flatten 20+ years of cult conditioning is difficult because it's totally heavy, you're so used to that side and the other side isn't as broken in to fit your butt, etc.

Never too early to begin settling into something else for the sake of later's now.

2011-07-02T02:32:00.001-04:00

2011-07-02T02:12:00.001-04:00

2011-07-02T00:48:00.003-04:00

It must be that things are going pretty well if not a little too well for my taste in lazy. I bought Nine Stories from the book store yesterday and Salinger's alliteration is like an obliteration of all things logical, hodgepodgeical prodigal SUNtan potion number wonderful and I branded my hand with a mandarin stamp, perhaps.
It was only four bucks.

2011-07-01T23:33:00.000-04:00

I want to write a book about people who work in a retail store. Endless supply of characters.

2011-07-01T23:31:00.002-04:00

Fell asleep typing a password. Fell asleep typing this.

2011-07-01T13:47:00.004-04:00

Methods of focus.
I've started using my hand recorder as a journal. It's sort of weird speaking about personal moments out loud in a serious or skeptical manner but it's a good exercise in improving quality of dialog.

2011-07-01T01:10:00.004-04:00

02-21-03 2:14 a.m.
Born with a symbol on my soul
Without the full picture
I will never be whole
I can run
Deny
Succumb to the lie
But no matter where I go
God knows
I will always have his symbol
on my soul

10-08-02, Tuesday, 6:30 a.m.
Houston, we have a problem
It measures beyond outer space
So it's a good thing I brought my confidence
To defend us just in case

10-09-02, Wed, 5:20 p.m.
The posture of your heart
churns
Bending further forward
Confidence was kidnapped
Leaving fear to pay the ransom

So now questions this sprouting seed--
How harbors the external
Is it black or golden hansom
What accessory does perfection require

The value of these pet peeves
believes the heart to be worth nothing
The further you achieve the diamond dream
it seems the hole expands horizontally

Yet the depth of the whole
controlled by shadows of the rotten fruit
Hides underneath the endless night
within self-inflated worry

A man performs accordingly
Not by borrowed thoughts
Though terror stole the will to live
positive thought pulls power

Belief entails relief
The cause of parting with delusion
An infusion of the sense
Fixing faith of hearts unspoken

04-23-07 4:35 a.m.
Far removed from the bike stew
of sand & tar
Still stable is the 8-year-old
Neath the table
Nestled in shamrock
And neighborhood rumble

Two knees
eaten
(hungry)

05-05-02, 11:17 p.m., Sunday night
Once in a while. . .
You'll get where you're headed
Feet off the ground
and ready to fly
That split second passes
To somewhere bizarre
You stretch to believe
But you can't reach that far

Just too easy to falter
Forget your own name
When everyone else
Is exactly the same

11/19/2002
You faced what
you forced down
So you could
breakthrough

10-08-02, Tues, 6:30 a.m.
Don't play tag with the devil
My meek wisdom warns
I try to listen further
Yet a different voice returns

I make to burn the murmur
but I can't turn off the switch
So I dim the light of both
because I can't tell which is which

2011-07-01T00:05:00.005-04:00

I'm having a shitty day. It's not tragic shitty, or majorly depressed shitty. It's generic shitty, containing little details that add up to wanting to give up on goals shitty. My English professor laid down the law on a first draft of a paper that I recognized as having a lack of focus, but thought contained at least interesting angles and supported a potential destination by--at least--bold imagery. Her criticisms were mostly, 'I don't understand what you wrote.' She didn't understand any of it. And to me it made perfect sense. The way a silverware falls through an umbrella hole in a picnic table if it's clustered in the middle and there isn't any newspaper--a double layer--underneath. The way a little crab is like a little man. The way my dad tags his likes--every thought is like a blog post and underneath are buzz words. If that makes sense. . . And I didn't want to take it overly personal, but it just confirmed my self-doubt about my major writing weaknesses. Like, I really make no sense at all. I'm super senseless, and I can only write to relate to myself. I think it's all made worse that by the fact that I'm actually trying to sharpen my senses. I'm putting in some work to get it; to become a balanced, clear-sighted individual who begins verily. But I can't focus. It's impossible. And I still can't get rid of myself. I'm still here, loathing the ordinary thoughts that hardly bloodstain a virtual prompt. Only they aren't even ordinary: they're very freakish, two-year old phrases based on personal satisfaction cloaked in ordinary. They're like Timberland shoes on a two year old: adorable and arguably more stylish than its (his or her) contemporaries but they make no sense at all because the drooling thing is still mustering shin muscles.
Also I'm very tired. I wake up at 6 a.m. and I get home at 11 p.m. And I don't have weekends off. It's getting harder. I like my internship but I don't like my part time job. It has nothing to do with what I love. I need an income though that accommodates school. Comfort in knowing I'm not the only one. But it's just, I had all these goals and dreams. I'm sure there's a current family issue severing all of the momentum from somewhere in or around me.
To not end this on feeling shitty: I love seeing people that I used to see. They put life back in me. I've been living out of my element for the past year and a half and a lot of it was pure hell. I felt my humor resume on Tuesday. It was reassuring.

2011-06-26T02:35:00.002-04:00

"But people who make decisions see me!" she said.
"But don't you see you?" I said.
"Who?"
she said.
I let out a foul laugh.
"Good luck," I said
and lost my chance to personal charity.

2011-06-26T02:31:00.002-04:00

I can't see myself listening to this kind of thing regularly because it is sung out loud by another someone who continually risks his withered wit on a pair of apple sneakers from last season or so on before but its bolted track is well oiled, the bulk is contained and the trip is thrilling.

2011-06-23T04:46:00.011-04:00

If you have any sort of larger than life goals for yourself, hanging out with people who have screwed up values, have physically/mentally destructive habits and have only regard for their own well-being (as it pertains to their own instant gratification as opposed to long-term gratification through disciplined, healthier acts that serve them as part of a whole)/disrespect people frequently
will mess you up
I found out.
And then (I think) I became one of those people briefly (maybe not-so briefly) and found out that more.

Today I had lunch with a solid group of college sophomores and I enjoyed their debates, always prefaced by a clear thesis. A goofiness/happiness made of sarcasm and wit weaved through the facts they'd willfully crammed for academic merit or pleasure in their curious heads. Topics included bible passages, workload growth for at-home pregnant women, and pundit names. It also sort of redeemed my high school days, days when I wasn't able to sift though and grasp one the difference between the religious guilt and its separate values that guide humans to using all of their muscles well so they never feel weak or unable, so I didn't know how to relate. The recent conversation was nice.

This internship is the best thing that's happened to me in a long while. It's hard work, but the fruits of my labor and the muscles getting stronger and more focused is worth every 4-hour night.

Loading up each letter

2011-06-23T03:24:00.005-04:00

Exploring the multi-faceted uses of reaction.
From good and fine, to settled and content or hiding and guarded, to fetal-ly tucked under angelic blankets or crouched under bridges while abating the night, facial lines and meal silences may compare similarly to eye-witnessed crisis but the direction this can twist is yet.

The creep-factor of the lyrics over that video is not lost on me.
Considering the benefits of obsessing over a goal, and the potential consequence of let down: sharp drop from the height may require recuperation.

2011-06-21T19:23:00.003-04:00

As a fish, if I couldn't cross the road like that, I'd evolve or fake it until scantily used muscles mustered a waddle.

I don't want to go back there. Please don't make me go back there. (Who?) There has nothing for me. Maybe a heart, but it's only half. (Scapegoat)

Settling on whatever lets you feel so unfairly empty. I once looked at a blank square and saw crops. Nourishment.
Now I'm interested in obligation. It looms over my passion like a large, black cloud guided by and tethered to your wristband. Second-guessing every-other thought because survival meant killing your best friend--your highly respected intuition; your private battle with a bitten apple.

It never made any sense. But it was sort of warm, which felt. nice.

2011-06-21T17:22:00.002-04:00

If it's not your beat, acquiring the right stuff will take a long time. Ways to adapt, but ways to shift. Worse than working on a .... way to raise the other eyebrow. Small white room without any windows to look into. Cooking meat, and carving matter. Fact, and feeling, and stripping feeling to reveal significant events, lack of nourishment, listed ligaments and bad touch. Likely qualified by counternarrative. Not leaving to look in the bathroom mirror, or eat quickly, entirely, in the stair corner near the coat rack. Losing beauty to lumberjack hands that let its digits pressure memories into songbird management policies.

2011-06-21T01:27:00.001-04:00

Not even good at anything, terribly over indulgent, uneducated, lazy, late.

A comfortable, repulsive stutter.

2011-06-20T03:20:00.002-04:00

Thanks to a thread about dismissed musicians, ZZ Top is talking to me.

2011-06-20T02:54:00.007-04:00

Re-living with the relatives is helping it understand its childhood psyche. It understands now that its creators do not see it as a waking individual with feelings, willpower, and opinion. It was absolutely of use. "Oldest" was a bad synonym for wisest. It never valued its mind and body as a force of life, allowed to desire because It was not an engine; don't implant it, there is not water for your passion's arrow's plunge. It was a vehicle or an easel. It was created to sport a knife; cut thick air; and blindly reminded of the sharp, unusual duty whenever It didn't like the mess of loose blood naturally puking loss and magnitude down (in)creased visage.

They are right arms. It, meant to bear their gear; was a secret weapon.

Sitting on the butter leather couch responding to the loose words of an Evangelism tele-sermon, the lady child is high.

Revelation from a passage tied to a blues song

2011-06-17T12:23:00.002-04:00

""Last Kind Words blues is about a ghost-lover. When Wiley says "kind"--as in, "The last kind words I heard my daddy say"--she doesn't mean it like we do; she doesn't mean nice; she means the word in its older sense of natural (with the implication that everything her "daddy" says afterward is unnatural, is preternatural). Southern idiom has retained that usage, in phrases involving the word "kindly," as in "I thank you kindly," which--and OED bears this out--represent a clinging vestige of the primary, archaic meaning: not I thank you politely and sweetly but I thank you in a way that's appropriate to your deed. There's nothing "kind," in the everyday way, about the cold instructions her man gives for the disposal of his remains. That's what I mean about the blues hewing to idiom. It doesn't make mistakes like that."
--"Unknown Bards," John Jeremiah Sullivan

2011-06-17T00:59:00.001-04:00

Runaway rain. Muddy thunder.

Sparkly

2011-06-16T20:14:00.003-04:00

Vanguard Animal is welcoming his new brew
Began part one of an impression on the bandstand
announced a fall tour

play a few shows this month with
play a few shows this month with
It could have been a showdown

performed in tandem

This is happening

White Heaven

2011-06-16T19:48:00.003-04:00

Whenever we went somewhere, something similar happened to all of us. We all did this, we all itched that. We all spoke awkwardly about a world event. We all listened to an obscure, esteemed single together.

According to the lead.

Curled

2011-06-16T19:46:00.003-04:00

Loaded
Closed
Imposed
Grossed out
Chosen
Glossed over
Frozen
Framed
Shamed
Shot
Blamed
Burned
Worried
Simple
Lady

2011-06-16T14:44:00.002-04:00

An old hole at the calf vacuumed all consumed nutrients blah blah blah lateral distraction.
Blood work perfectly describes the limp.

Numero Dos

2011-06-14T22:45:00.001-04:00

http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2011/jun/14/aging-drivers-have-few-alternatives-for-a-car/

2011-06-14T12:16:00.004-04:00

People salad. A mix of greens and lenders dressed in labeled wobble made by drivers. Method feeders eat forward or shake and enjoy. Regulars chew through you whenever.

Crash learning on little to no sleep.

2011-06-13T17:30:00.002-04:00

Giving up caffeine is yesterday's dream
Today I surf a new green sea
Telebriefing prep for the blue-dyed polydent
Plenty of time to page the angel
Glazed and leaning
Brittle hair
Embargo of fragility

Giving someone agency

2011-06-13T03:19:00.004-04:00

Lay awake Not-thinking.

Insomnia and sickness since I've been here.

Day 2.

2011-06-09T07:00:00.001-04:00

http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2011/jun/8/periodic-table-gets-heavier-after-10-years-with-ad/?page=1

2011-06-09T00:35:00.002-04:00

Felt horribly sad tonight and I can't say why. I paused to watch Dancing with the Stars with my mom and every other moment I had to gulp back a sob. It was horribly strange, especially following my thin, landmark day. I may be over worked, or I may just need more sleep. I think I feel disconnected despite feeling more certain of my goals. The unsettling part of the wave is that I wanted to welcome it. Let it pass.

2011-06-08T18:09:00.003-04:00

So I'm not like, totally retarded. That's good.

Today I wrote my first story for a major paper and tomorrow it will be published. Cool. I think that's a good step for me. I'm like, kinda in a good place now. I kind of won't respect myself as a writer/reporter though until I can do serious, well-researched verbally astonishing pieces consistently. Not that that's what my first piece was--by far. That's my goal tho.

Ways to Name Your Problems

2011-06-08T03:07:00.005-04:00

Ways to dispute your problems
Ways to excuse your problems
Ways to obliterate your problems
Ways to explain your problems

SIT STEW STACK
RUN SPEAK ACT

Ways to detain your problems
Ways to arrange your problems
Ways to recall your problems
Ways to frame your problems

CHASE THE WALL
RISK IT ALL

Four, Fourteen, Twenty-two and On
Let's play Analyst
I'll be the Patient one
Label me to guide me
Praise me to raise me
But you're also "complex" (fucked)

I control your rock'n'roll now
Lean. on. me.

WAYS TO ERASE YOUR PROBLEMS
WAYS TO TASTE YOUR PROBLEMS
WAYS TO INCREASE YOUR PROBLEMS
WAYS TO CEASE YOUR PROBLEMS

"Don't stop believing" (what)
"Don't stop believing" (what)
Empirical pup tent
Time-tortured dent in the floor