Jump out of bed as soon as you hear the alarm clock!! You may also find it useful spending five minutes each morning saying to yourself: "Every day in every way I am getting better and better" Perhaps it is a good idea to start a new day with the right frame of mind.

i7yci7cyi**let down.


transport. motorways & tramlines. starting and then stopping.
taking off & landing. the emptiest of feelings. disappointed people.
clinging on to bottles. when it comes it's so so. disappointing let down and hanging
around. crushed like a bug in the ground.
let down and haNGiNG arouNd.
shell smashed. juices flowing. wings twitch. legs are going. donT geT senTimental.
it always ends up dRRiveLLLL. one day. i am goiingtogrow wings. a
chemical reaCtion. hysterical & useless. hysterical &let down and hanging around.
crushed like a bug in the ground. let down and haNGiNG arouNd. you know where
are with. you know where you are with. floor collapses floating bouncing back annd one
day youlLL know where you are .

i don't know why i never think to instantly reach for ok computer on my psychologically irregular days. plah_plah-plah_plah-plah. i've listened to let down numerous times already, and intend to listen to it at least two dozen more times. what a fabulous song that is. i neglected it for a long while for whatever reason. that was dumb. i often times forget how good it is. but then i remember. and it's great. well. here are lots of poems:


(=)


i tried to fight any urges
or just go numb
during the songs ive refused to listen to
i drink wine so well
and cough so wholeheartedly
sometimes it seems so poor
to think
that most would criticize the life ive chosen
a supposed snob
im so particular about pictures
and my only sources of comfort are cats
with red hair
they leave dead halfeatenmice
and piles of organs by the back door


(+)


"attempting to be ok"
was discovered lying in an empty
bathtub
faceup, following the fabric lines
of the shower curtain
to the ceiling covered in black mold,
the kind that kills you
wondering why everything outside was so disgusting
but enjoying the natural growth
of fungus above
and the trails of smoke
leading upwards from a fresh
cigarette


(-)


after the things you say
stick in my head for days on end
(we could wallpaper the world with the things we write)
and i'd love to believe that
every
word passing through my brain,
every second of every day,
constructs beautiful architecture
throughout my brain’s interior

i'm building my house out of
phrases and the strange life
encounters
there are so many walls to fill
with pictures and flashbulb memories
every chapter seems so short
especially
ours which is why i say yes
consistently to any inquiry

because there are countless walls
and i so desperately want to hang
your face and words
the sense memory of your hands and breath
on as much space as i possibly can.
do the same for me.


(?)

m.e.h.

E.e. cummings i love you
because of your misuse of the English language
the idea that you have the ability to overtake
punctuation because of some form of poetic

license and i often wonder
if you thought that you
were so much more creative than the rest of humanity
so superior and better educated because
of your old harvard alma mater

E.e. cummings i love you
sitting there with your head at a tilt
in your fine linen shirt untucked
the first three buttons undone (revealing

a grizzly bear chest)
you leaned on the table and smoked a
filterless cigarette sporting your trilby hat
looking particular and exaggerated

E.e. cummings i love you because
youre consistently showing and standing
me up everyday of the week
as I sit by the telephone

waiting
for the calls that never
come because you don’t give two
shits about me E.e. cummings

i hate you

e.e.c.

Humanity i love you
because you would rather black the boots of
success than enquire whose soul dangles from his
watch-chain which would be embarrassing for both

parties and because you
unflinchingly applaud all
songs containing the words country home and
mother when sung at the old howard

Humanity i love you because
when you're hard up you pawn your
intelligence to buy a drink and when
you're flush pride keeps

you from the pawn shops and
because you are continually committing
nuisances but more
especially in your own house

Humanity i love you because you
are perpetually putting the secret of
life in your pants and forgetting
it's there and sitting down

on it
and because you are
forever making poems in the lap
of death Humanity

i hate you

i think people are consistently placed in the same situation under different circumstances all throughout life and sometimes they never get it right. that's what i just decided. it's like this never ending test. what fun. this extremely dolled up couple just walked out of grounds, and i stared at them until they saw me looking, then i looked away. but i was thinking about that after i turned my eyes away and thought, "they deserve to be stared at. look at them. that is some crazy hairdo, and i think it's interesting to see how other people look and dress and carry themselves as human beings on this earth. and i want to imagine who they are, or if they just came from church, or if they dress like that every day of the week. how much did she pay for those nails. how much did he pay for that suit. why is it that when people wear really nice work suits i think it's stupid, but when they wear second-hand suits i think it's marvelous? that's something to think about." so whatever. i'll stare if i want, and if they think it's rude, than that it just fine. because i don't know who they are anymore than they know who i am. i've been feeling very strange for the past couple days. it's been simultaneously pleasant and wretched. i'm just very confused by myself. i'm sure it's a combination of understandable things, for instance, the loads of things i have to get done by the end of this semester, which is rapidly approaching, my upcoming menstruation, which has caused my boobs to swell up, the fact that thanksgiving is over, and i ate a lot of food, so my body generally feels like shit, not to mention fatter, which is so disheartening. i've found that i'm only content with myself when i'm barely eating. whatever. i don't deny that i have a terrible complex, which i blame on society and my mother. and this whole birthday thing. i just hate being a spectacle, but it was so nice that everyone took me to dinner, and kelly gave me that beautiful print, which overjoyed me. i just feel really out of it at the moment. and i've been trying to be prudent with my income lately, but on my birthday i spent a lot of money on things. five dollars was spent on these two roses. the story behind that involves standing in front of the cla-zel and having a toothless man walk up to me asking if i wanted to donate money to homeless children. i can't say that i believed him, but had just been crying, and wanted to be left alone, so, i gave him the money and gave the roses to Lauren. the note i left her was the best part though, what with the toothless man story and everything. i wrote that i hoped they made her smile because then i wouldn't have wasted five bones. kelly and i just talked about minimalism for a while, it was nice and refreshing. i am just dying in school right now. it is so bittersweet for me to hear people talk about their projects and assignments and whatever pertaining to art. i long for my actual classes to begin. it will be nice. i've been making a lot of little paintings lately, but the thing about it is this: i have a project to be for school, so i sit down and try to do it, but get inspirationally distracted by something and paint or write or whatever about that neat thing that i am interested in. i finish that painting or whatever, look at it pleased, and feel very fulfilled, however, a moment later i realize that i still have that paper to write or that thing to do for class, so i stop feeling fulfilled and regress to feeling like a shit who is irresponsible all the time and never gets anything done. so the ideal idea is that my homework assignments will coincide with my love and i will be happy and making things and doing my assignments, and not feeling like a shit because i'll be getting everything i want to get done, done, while still feeling fulfilled and like i'm progressing as an artist. and that will be the beginning of my life.

my eyes
are these tiny slits
about two inches above my nose
to the left and right

my right eye
left to you
has this extra line
of scar tissue
on the innermost part
it creates a weird fold
this wrinkle
that other eye doesn't have
it creates a divot
on the right eye
the part closest to my nose
no one can see it
except me when i look closely in the mirror

there is also a scar on that same eye
right on top of the lid
it's about half an inch long
you can't see that one either
it makes it difficult to put on eye shadow
so i don't usually

i have another scar directly between
my eyebrows
a fine, smooth line
that crinkles when i am confused
it's fairly clear to see

on the bridge of my nose
closer to the right side
or left
is a swooping scar
the skin around it
bunches when i wrinkle my nose
it's the most obvious
the one i have always seen
and always remember
i didn't realize how big it was
until about a month ago

the last scar relating to the others
is at the edge of my eyebrow
above the right eye
left to you
it's about half an inch long
mostly hidden by hair

there's the one under my right eye
small and ordinary
left to you

then there's my chin
where i sport
two, inch long scars
both from falling
both had five stitches
once on rollerblades
once from standing on a stroller in Kmart

then there's the one on my arm
i don't know what that's from
on my left bicep
right or whatever

i also have this weird smile line
that doesn't make sense
because i know i didn't get cut there
on my cheek
left side to me

i think that's all of them
apart from the little ones
that cover my hands and knees
and my elbows
knuckes
and feet

i can't remember where those came from
ya, this isn't a poem
i'm just writing

I don't really have much to say. today is weird. it's my birthday, and this day tends to freak me out. i don't understand it; i'm happy, but at the same time dreadfully depressed. and i am trying so hard to let today be just a day, like all the others. but it's hard. i am just so overwhelmed with emotions right now. as stupid as it sounds, all i actually want for this day is to be vulnerable and held, wrapped up in a huge, down comforter. that's it. and a bottle of wine. maybe this day just makes me question my accomplishments, and where i'm going. i am really torn up lately about what i'm going to do in life. i need to make some executive decisions. i need to figure out what i want out of life, presently, not necessarily for the years to come. i can’t make solid future plans. i’m not exceptional at that, and have no desire to. i won't say, "i want to be an art teacher or an art curator." that's silly to me right now. i hate it when people tell me what i'm good at, and how i should apply that to a future career. it kills me inside. i know what i really want to do, but i'm trying to be realistic, and consider what other people say, while still understanding what i want, what i'm willing to do to achieve that, what i'm willing to give up, and how i'm willing to live my life. if that makes sense. i know what i want, it's just the process i need to figure out. but for now, i can either continue school, and wait for the good stuff to come around, which it will in the next year, or quit school for a while and focus on what i really want to do. but it's really a struggle for me to work through this lack of creative thinking in the classes i’m taking now. my poetry class is a delight (despite its small size and intro class subject matter, it’s still motivating) but as for psychology (intro class = the absence of learning), cultural anthropology (apparently, even when it’s not an intro class, the same basic material covered in an intro class is really all that is “studied”, expanding very little upon it), pop culture (don’t even get me started on the hollowness of this class), and art history (which is interesting, but also on a saturday, so that’s a trip) there isn’t much substance to my education right now. it is excruciating for me to sit in these classes. but once all of this crap is over and done, which will hopefully be at the end of next semester, i can anticipate the commencement of doing what i love. i guess the summer isn't too far away. so let's vote for continuing with this shit, and hoping that it will all be over before i know it. yes. wow, writing all of this nonsense down made it so much easier to contemplate. how about that. and now i’m feeling a little better. apart from all of this school talk pertaining to my "struggles," i consider how privileged i am and whatever, but i while trying to appreciate that i keep thinking about how useless all of this is right now. i'm paying $300 a class to not learn, but still having to be responsible enough to get good grades and turn in bullshit assignments that don't mean anything to me. so yeah, i'm blessed in life, but this education system has gotten to me for so many years it's ridiculous. i was talking to this girl from France in my cultural anthropoloogy class, who explained to me that in Europe you go to college instantly doing what you set out to do. Not taking these stupid classes that help turn you into a more "well-rounded" individual. stupid. life is just too weird for me, i think. too weird to try to solve. thanksgiving (i think that is the stupidest name for a holiday) was alright. over the past few years, i have found myself feeling so strange and different and awkward at family dinners. i start to have these slight panic attacks and get really nauseous and feel like i’m in a parallel universe. it’s worse now that all of my cousins are in california. i love my family so incredibly much, but i don’t think they will ever understand me, which sounds melodramatic, but whatever. for the first time, i feel okay with leaving ohio. i have often worried about moving far away from them, but i think it’s finally getting to that time where it wouldn’t be too big of a deal. i have quite a family connection. more so than most people i know. apart from family i’ve always been a loner. for as long as i can remember. i think that recently it’s been a matter of accepting that this is how things are going to be, and i will forever be strangely separated from the rest of the world. i hope that doesn’t come off sounding superior or pitiful or martyristic (not a word), but that’s how i see things, and this is how it’s always been, through elementary school, junior high, high school, and now college. whatever. it isn’t a big deal, and i’m not at all trying to turn it into one, which i think i have been doing lately. it’s just a matter of accepting the facts, i guess. if i were to analyze the last twelve months of my life, i would say that this is why everything has been pretty fucked up and transitional, because of this overwhelming sense of solitude that has been eating away at my brain. and i’m beginning to see myself clinging to people who give me this feeling that i connect with other humans. because at times, it seems there are so few out there. but i’m sure there will be more, and I can’t predict the future nor have I ever tried to, but that sense of mystery tends to scares the daylights out of me. there’s no point in dwelling upon any of this crap. alone is okay. letting selected people in is okay. life is generally okay. and music is great. i love it so much, and i often feel that without it i would be dead. because i love it. perfect combinations of words and sounds. or just sounds. i think it’s so funny that a phrase could mean so much to me, and it would simply be words to someone else. that’s a riot. some pretty girl just watched me stuff a pastry in my mouth. ha. that must have been funny to watch. i love redheads. i’m glad you have the hair you have.

in a delicate second
bright blue eyes received an introduction
wherein perspectives pertaining
would change so many times
from blue to gray to green
there are places
in my mind
where no cerebral finger can touch
no other eye could ever see

tiny feet
at one point took the first steps of billions

memories aren’t good enough
and why didn’t I say then
(let the hours be hours and the days be days)
memories aren’t good enough

I’m the most interesting person you’ll ever meet
I laugh
during a speck moment of love and intimacy
cells have multiplied twenty years worth
and only twenty more
until blindness takes me back to wherever it is that I came from

schedule officially nonexistent. i suppose that i've managed to set myself on a healthier one, considering i went to bed last night at 11:30pm, but now i'm awake at about 7:30 in the morning, which is good, but weird. at this rate i'll be able to revise a paper and write another one in time to still make it to work then be to class on time. that never happens. so this is good, but will probably be short lived. i was getting pretty sick too, what with an outrageous stay up for a few days and then sleep for a few days schedule. my face looks like shit. sometimes i forget how poor my skin is, and i'll see someone with acne and think, "oh, that person has bad acne," when in fact so do i. funny that. sometimes i've forgotten to such an extent that i look in the mirror and i'm taken aback. anyway, let's talk of other things.

You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you dies each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason. — Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

and i feel i, just yesterday, purchased a very ideal autumn album. i'm gradually becoming more and more pleased with my purchase. worth the $10.99/$11.76 entirely. well, it's a little after eight, and i have to reintroduce myself to the world, because i'm feeling rather worthless at the moment. let's attempt production.

smells like autumn, smells like leaves
you don't know that you'll rust and not belong so much
and then get left alone

self-analysis is for the birds.
i'm the pill of the century.
things are most level when they're utterly messed up.
and my lungs aren't what they used to me.


Ramble ramble ramble. I feel that's all I ever do anymore. It's just that much easier for me to be completely vague and cryptic than it is to be at all straight forward. But I think that has to do with writing a "blog." It doesn't seem fair or right to be open about your life on a page that's so easily accessible for other people. I don't know. I do know. I do know. Lauren told me that I say, "I don't know," too much, so now I have to say, "I do know," even when I don't have a clue. It's an interesting adjustment. I don't have much to say. I feel very alone at the moment. I feel like I'm alone. That's pretty much all there is to it. I think I have a subconscious fear of loneliness. Or maybe I need other people to distract me from myself, but they don't ever seem to be around when I need them most. I'm actually pretty okay tonight. Pretty okay, my, that makes me sound simple. There have been worse nights. But on this particular one, I feel alone, but I can cope. I think these lonely feelings derive from this realization that I don't really spend my days with anyone. For every hour I'm with someone, there are somewhere between 7 and 9 that I'm alone. It doesn't matter. No one talks anymore. We just smoke at each other. We're talking. We're always talking.

why are you staring into outerspace crying

it's funny to me that i would be so tired right now, considering the fact that i slept pretty much all day yesterday. maybe it's just the notion of being awake during the time when the sun is out, being awake when the sun is gone, and still being awake when the sun shows it's ugly face again. maybe not. maybe i am just tired and stupid. maybe i'm just so emotionally exhausted that i don't know how to feel in general. maybe i'm not tired at all, i just feel like that's how i should feel... at any rate, i don't know how to interpret anything anymore. not anyone i know, not myself, not priorities, not inspiration or time or strangers. I just saw this lady in a black trench coat of sorts, and all i thought, after studying the coat was, "i hate that coat. i hate that coat." then i saw this woman and her young son, and she had these enormous bangs, for no good reason, and i imagined the boy thinking something like, "why does mommy have such huge bangs?" i mean, i don't know much about what looks good, but that does not look good, and it never did, and even though it was i style for a time, it definitely hasn't been "in" for about a decade. speaking of me not knowing anything about fashion, i wrote about it the other day in here, and how i will die never understanding it, and that night i had this bizarre dream about shopping and seeing these "hippy" looking shirts and thinking, "oh, i'll buy one for Lauren; she loves these." but they were like $200.00, which was fucking ridiculous and weird, and i thought, "why are hippy clothes so expensive? don't they know that if anyone has no money it's the "hippies?" I don't like that word, but for lack of a better term. ANYWAY, so, i'm waltzing around this store and i end up accidentally leaving and this lady accuses me of shoplifting, because i have all these stupid shirts in my hands, like i'm gonna buy them or something, which i wasn't. so i had to explain all this shit to her. it was odd. very. i can't believe i dreamt about shopping. how strange. people smell too much in the morning. it's like they have their full amount of perfume or colone (i... don't know how to spell that...) on, and it hasn't aired out yet. it's making me dizzy, AND it's not good smells. it's old and i'm sure the bearers of these odors have had the same scents for like thirty-five years. hoo. i need to write this paper. it's about viking death rituals, and maybe i'm just really bad at researching things, which i don't think i am, but apparently there is no information of viking death rituals. imagine that. okay. done now.

Anywhere seems better than here
i want to live when there's no electricity
when plugs and sockets didn't clutter the world
plastics and metals sticking out of the ground
and walls
i tried to think about how great i am
but instead i slept
i stayed in bed all day, most of the night
my body fighting for consciousness
just lying there
listening
and dreaming about all the things i want
all the emotions i'd like to be
all the people i know and have known
for the past half hour i've been sitting at a piano
for the next i'll be staring at a screen

i want you to know me better than anyone
i feel so apologetic
because i never told you
about my
you seemed to jump right into the boiling water
and i'll bet you're thinking
what did i do
whatwhatwhat
i've lost my tongue
i can't find my shoes
everything is up and down and everywhere
with me
all the time
that's what i forgot to say
that it's freezing in here
you're going to get burnt
and the dog needs walking
it seems i've done it again

it's a mess
it's a complete and utter pigsty
i haven't done the dishes
there are papers and dust bunnies
mold covered mugs and empty bottles
i'm the paperweight holding it all in place
this way
the way i like it

my body is swelling again
hips spreading
well shit.
i can't say how sorry i am
i should have known better really
this is fucked
this is such a shame
because i'm so absent minded sometimes
we all have to cope with our flaws i guess
yes yes,
let's cope
i'll live alone
either that
or i can be sylvia and you can be ted
i'd prefer it otherwise
but that's coping that's learning that's finding the solution
and settling for less
rolling with punches
and taking one for the team
fuck.

that isn't the way i had planned it
all those nights when i put my head down and thought so many thoughts
all these dreams and images i learn in images
i see in pictures and colors
it was a nice day dream at night
it was a splendid little story i made up

last night i dreamt i was floating in a giant basket full of feathers
pillows and blankets
over ponds full of plants and age
old and stangnant
and i hovered above them dipping my feet in the waters when i chose to
delighted and alarmed
by the mystery of dark waters
where i've never tread
and when it seemed i would just fall right into the frightening unknown
bodies, i would be carried
back up in to the sky
and laugh and my own fear
i could feel it,
in my throat
so scared i could have wept
i floated through trees and swamp in a crescent shaped basket
just floating
just above the water
crawling with filth and slime and everything disgusting
i am barely above it now.
even now
i sit and i can smell the rotting smells
the mildew and the decay
and it's funny
because
i hadn't thought of it that way

why do i feel like people are avoiding me?
hiding behind brick walls
it's funny though
because they laugh so loud
don't you think
i can hear you?

i've never felt so good
about feeling so bad
every terrible fear
all these poor and bleak thoughts
have finally made me feel
at all

blah blah
blah

i did have important things to say about how good i felt, but not anymore
i bleached my teeth
and attempted to keep up with traffic
for no good reason

i'm wearing a new coat
that i didn't buy
but it feels like i might
look good
and i did when i was smiling

i've been where you've all been
you're wrong
my thoughts aren't normal
they aren't like everyone else's

and i was going to thank you
and show so much gratitude

you're just what i need right now

something to be mad at

i felt so hopeful and fulfilled
for fifteen minutes
i stared into that mirror
and saw something great
what the fuck was running through my mind then
i remember
all the notions of contentment
i can recite them like verse
in my head and through my fingers
but now they don't mean a thing

Olin Slaughter.

I’d like to say it’s been a productive day. But it’s really just been vain and stupid. And nothing seems to go as planned. I make plans. What happens to them? These daily goals. I need help with that. But I think I’m the only one who can help me. Things I wanted to do today: First (and most importantly) all the homework I have to do; my pop culture magazine, my sociology paper, my psychology paper, my art paper. I wish I were a good student. I can’t get it right. I wish I could, for everyone’s sake. What the fuck. Secondly, I had to work for a few hours at the school. Thirdly, I wanted to go to Lima for my dad’s art show, but I really didn’t want to go by myself, and no one wanted to or could go with me. And then there were other miscellaneous things I had to do that never panned out. What did I do today? Well, I painted my nails, I cut my hair a bit, I took a shower, I read about George Bush for a while, pierced my ears, AND best of all, my mom convinced me to whiten my teeth. That last thing is what really consumed my day. And here’s why: So, I use this stuff that tastes like shit, and it’s going to take about 2 hours to achieve remotely whiter teeth. Whatever, yeah fine. I’ll have a Radiohead marathon while I am waiting. Which I did. But after the first twenty minute session of my dental reinvention I discovered after removing the mouth piece, that my teeth were not in fact whiter, rather they were blotchy and weird looking. So, instead of freaking out, I tried it some more, to see if everything would fix itself. And it didn’t. My mom told me to use her kind of whitener, so I did, which involved leaving it in my mouth for an hour. That didn’t help either. So I tried it again, and instead of anything good happening, my gums were burnt by the solution of bleach in my mouth. Great. That’s lovely. And painful. And stupid. Why did I even care for that five minute span about how white my teeth were? Now, not only are my teeth weird looking, I have to continue this whitening thing for the next week or two to fix them, And I feel like such a shit for even caring in the first place.

Sometimes I feel so alone
I’ll call up “time and temp” to hear a voice
He told me it would be fair tomorrow
He even thanked me for calling
Thank you, Weather Man
For helping me make it through
Another lonely night.

I haven't always been this cool.

Why are clothes so important? I will never ever figure that out; I will die not knowing why fashion and clothes matter. I want a piercing. That's what I want. I also want to understand the idea behind personal space. Why people in all cultures have differing invisible bubble parameters surrounding them. In the US I think the bubble is mighty big and that's strange. Maybe not strange, but I think from now on I'm going to try and get as close to people as I possibly can when initiating conversation. I'll do a study. My hypothesis is that people will either inch away, become awkward, or verbally explain to me how I'm making them uncomfortable. That's funny. I live in a movie of my own design. People say things like, "Life isn't a movie," and I think, "Wait, yes it is. It depends on how you look at it, and what circumstances and situations you place yourself in. If I'm, let's say, at a social gathering of sorts, I will find the most cinematic and strange place to sit or stand. I place myself in the most cinematically (Spellcheck says that isn't a word... is it?) aesthetic scenery. And I like it that way. I feel more comfortable. What it boils down to is you can be in a movie if you so choose. I do. I choose to be in a movie. That's why I listen to music pretty much constantly, unless I'm with other people. We all want a soundtrack. And this is why I can't just listen to anything at anytime. Finding what to listen to is such a precise process, you can't just pop in whatever the fuck. That's how I see it anyway. Let's say I wanted to listen to Beck, but was content in my mood of sullenness, I couldn't listen to Beck. I couldn't listen to Sea Change either, though. Because if I'm sullen, and not exactly depressed, listening to Sea Change would completely alter where I am emotionally. I would start to feel sad. At the same time though, if I were simply content and relaxed, I would listen to Sea Change, because it's soothing. I wouldn't have the symptoms of depression or an inkling of it, so, it wouldn't make me depressed. There. Yes. Oh my. I don't know if that made a lick of sense. Right now, I'm listening to Boards of Canada, because my day has been strange and somewhat gone awry, like most days. So I'm in a weird mood, like most days. What bad luck. School and I really don't get along. I wish we did. Life would be so much easier. I'm really stuck in my own brain right now, and it is such a frightening place to be at the moment. I need to talk with other humans. But usually that doesn't even help. I need to talk to other humans who I will allow into my brain. The ones who actually talk to me, not at me. That impact and stimulate my glial cells and neurons in a productive manner. Sending signals and transmitting electrical waves through my brain." reinforcing eliza. oh, eliza. who are you, eliza? no alcoholic beverages allowed. turkish and domestic blends. jimmy "the iceman" macneil. the ice keeps changing, but never my coffee. oil type: 10W. your application was selected for review in a process called "verification." list siblings and others. i'm reinforcing eliza. wash your hands often. hot surface can cause severe burns. do not touch. precise pilot. I love planes. reinforcing eliza. eliza. eliza. dayton timberline ranger. A/T. any time. who are you? eliza? where did you come from? stick your strong fingers in my brain, eliza.


andy or bruce

sitting, elbows on knees
"i could use a light"
to a big bulky man with an orange beard
camouflage pants
baseball cap and blue eyes
a circle of saliva surrounding
the ground around him

his nostrils flared
his heavy breathing
i could smell anxiety
sitting next to a pretty girl
him fiddling
i felt light headed as I smoked

smalltalksmalltalk
going into fire science
"are you going to fight...
fires?"
joining the army
he had inner aggression,
he guessed

"you seem like a nice enough lady"
we both draw
he wanted to be an animator
he wanted to move to florida
never panned out

don't forget i said
you should do what you love
forceful feelings
can be relieved through pencils too
you know
don't forget
you should do what you love

don't forget
do what you love
said it like eight times
he looked like an andy
or a bruce

Maybe I am a fucking martyr. What the fuck is wrong with me? Too much apparently. I have been doing so well. I have been so consistent and stable for the past week, and this evening, for a reason or two, everything blew out of my hands. It’s entirely my fault. I don’t know. I do know. I do know. But telling myself that it’s just a night, and tomorrow will be a day, and when I fall asleep I won’t be thinking, and when I wake up everything will be just fine, didn’t help any. It just made it worse. I want to be elsewhere. I’m getting really tired of this and writing about it is stupid and pointless, but I suppose I’ll listen to myself a little better if all my emotions are put on a page. Then I’ll read them and realize how stupid I am, that I am a martyr, that everything is fucked up because I am impossible. It seems there isn’t much I can do right. I’m this stupid, privileged kid who is completely selfish and prideful and I have so much potential and so many opportunities, and yet I never fulfill them, I rarely see anything through, and I just want to sleep all the time. I used to adore my obscure sense of sobriety, but not anymore. And then other people will read this and think, “How melodramatic. What is she trying to prove by writing this? Is this some cry for help? Maybe I should call her… I mean, does she think she’s the only person out there with issues?!” Yeah, well, fuck everyone. And fuck me. I want to be dead right now and I don’t apologize for thinking that.

there’s nothing wrong that wasn’t wrong before.

I’m damaged. bad at best.

It should be said that I just sat outside, smoking my cigarette, and this old man, dressed like a "gangsta" waked past me, chatting the whole way, and Less than half of the words that came out of his mouth were understandable. I smiled politely.

Well. I just wrote a long post, and it was all erased. But that's okay, because I have plenty of time. Yeah. I made sleep-plans this morning. That's right. Sleep-plans. What are those, you say. Well, sleep-plans are the plans you make early in the morning when someone asks you to do something and you more than likely respond in the affirmative. I did. And that's why I am in Lima right now. I went to sleep around 6am, and around 7am, my mother apparently, came into my room and asked me to do a bunch of things that I said I would do. I don't exactly remember that happening. Then at 8am, my father pounded on my door and told me to get up to go to Lima. "What!?" I said. And that's when the confusion began. Apparently, I said I would go to Lima to run Artspace today. So here I am, running a small business, art gallery thing. I feel all grown up. Not really. I'm actually just really tired and still confused. When my dad told me where I was going today, I got really confused and started crying, so he got mad and called me a "basket case" and told me to grow up and get my act together. I called him and asshole and cried a lot. It wasn't that I didn't want to help him out, I just really didn't know what was happening or why I was going to Lima or when that plan went into action. Either way, here I am. AND since I'm here and all, I'm going to steal a bottle of nice wine, AND I get $50. I'm trying to save a plants life right now. I think I may have food poisoning. I just ate salsa that's three months expired. We'll see how that one plays out. I'm tired. I'm wearing boots. I'm going to have a cigarette now. Everything is nuts. NUTS I Tell you! What does that mean? Nuts. (?)

oh, there's the other post. right under there. hmmm. imagine that. what's happening!?

Who made sleep-plans to go to Lima today. I did. Who's in Lima today. I am. That's right. Sleep plans. Those are the plans you make when someone wakes you up at 7am, and asks you lots of questions, most of which you reply to in an affirmative manner. That's what I did this morning. I fell asleep around 6am, and an hour later I vaguely remember my mother coming into the room and asking me questions. Either way, at 8am, my father was pounding on my door, telling me I was going to Lima today. And here I am. In Lima. Listening to bad Jazz. I am running a small business today. That's fuckin right. AND, since I'm here, I am going to steal a bottle of wine and get $50. I'm still really tired though, and it's confusing to me as to how I ended up here today. I cried a lot this morning because my dad was yelling at me and calling me a "basket case" (what does that mean?!) and telling me I need to get my act together and become an adult. So I cried, and said, "What is going on!? What is happening?!" and "Dad, you are being an asshole." We had a shout out. I stood my ground. You bet I did. It wasn't that I didn't want to help him, of course I did, but I didn't know what was happening. I mean, I seriously didn't have a clue why I was going to Lima. Then my mom started telling me that I was going to die because I don't sleep right. Yesterday she said she was going to beat me with a baseball bat because I wouldn't stop smoking. I thought that was- special. I'm eating chips and really hot salsa, and my mouth hurts. Wow. I'm tired. I think I may have just saved some plants life. This salsa has expired by the way. Let's see how this turns out. meh. Sure am bored and lonely. Stuck here with my thoughts. I keep thinking about how this salsa has expired. It tastes okay, but I don't know what expired salsa tastes like. What if there are huge things forming in the expired salsa and I'm eating them? I hope not. My lips are burning. I think I'm going to sit outside for a stint and smoke.

I'll never give up. I'll never buckle under.
Or wave a white flag.
Flags aren't my thing.
But what a ways I have to go.
Times are too fun.




Some say I dance a wicked dance.
They tell me I waltz down
The broad way of immorality
Skipping here and there
Picking all the posies I desire

I can't say I disagree

But this wilted, apetalous plant
Is just right

We carry our own rhythm
Our beats and clangs
Our slaps
Such
Beautiful
Sounds
I could just go deaf

Our music makes my ears bleed
And my heart is pumping out
Irregular signatures

When I figure out how to put pictures on this thing, I am going to try and get a deep cut, and then take a picture of it every twelve hours, to show the healing process. Because I find that to be one of the most interesting things in the world. I have had this cigarette burn on the top of my hand for a few weeks now, and I've gradually watched it heal up; attempting not to pick at it. I did a few times because the scab was so thick, that as the skin was healing around it there was a great pressure on the scab. It seemed necessary. After I picked the scab of, there was this huge crater in my hand. Weird. I hope no one thinks I'm crazy masochistic, just remember, it's for the sake of art. I think, at least. And if you disagree, well, what do you know anyway. I had several cuts on the knuckles of my left hand recently, they've healed, and now there's hardly a scar. My body has healed itself. How beautiful is that?! There is so much that is taken advantage of. Like Aurora Borealis, pouring white cream into black coffee (before it's mixed in), freckles, wrinkles, everything small and wonderful. Except Aurora Borealis. That's huge. But how many people watched it the other night? FUCKING STARS! I've found myself getting really worked up about things that I find beautiful lately. I get really teary, but I think that is splendid. I was punched in the face today, by Lauren, and my jaw really hurts. We have too much fun. Well. Hm. It's cold. And last night I dreamt of Manta Rays.

before we went to the grocer's


we sat in your antique, overgrown backyard
having a smoke.
everything there was dying or dead,
even us.
the grass had turned brown.
we sat on the mossy, cement blocks of the fountain
that was too old to care to work,
and had been faded by the sun
and stained by rain water.
a metal, mesh fence separated
our lives from those
of the brightly and scantily-clad
girls next door
having a pool party.
blond with big breasts,
they danced.
ponytails defying gravity,
they danced.
mid drifts and slender legs.
what disgusting fun.

we gazed quietly.
judging silently.
and a girl took off her top
displaying an unnatural chest.
nonchalantly astonished,
and i couldn't understand what she was saying.
i stood
in an attempt to make out
what she was saying,
but her face turned jet black,
and she puckered her lips.
feeling the frown and wrinkled brow,
i walked away.

we moved inside
as your father took a picture,
and i made up faces for people
i haven't met yet.
in the wink of an eye.
we're upstairs.
everyone is here.
all male.
all staring
out the window at midday
at the girls swimming outside.

i sat in the corner
watching you stare,
silently judging still.
so silent and confused,
but in my mind
your eye was always wandering,
so i sit with the thoughts I don't have.

"we decided it was the only interesting thing to look at,"
your voice rang and echoed in my head.
eyebrows raised, i grinned, still speechless.
white walls.
you sat with me.
for a while.

Some days I feel like I'm dying. This is one of those days. And this is also my favorite song at the moment. It's so pretty and appropriate:

i better be quiet now
elliot smith

wish you gave me your number
wish i could call you today, just to hear a voice
i got a long way to go
getting further away
if i didn't know the difference
living alone'd probably be ok
it wouldn't be lonely
i got a long way to go
getting further away
a lot of hours to occupy,
it was easy when i didn't know you yet
things i'd have to forget
but i better be quiet now
i'm tired of wasting my breath
carrying on and getting upset
maybe i got a problem,
but that's not what i wanted to say
i'd prefer to say nothing.
i got a long way to go
getting further away.
had a dream as an army man with an order
just to march in my place
while a dead enemy screams in my face
but i better be quiet now
i'm tired of wasting my breath
carrying on, not over it yet
wish i knew what you're doing
and why you want to do it this way,
so i can't go the distance
i got a long way to go
getting further away
i got a long way to go
getting further away

I don't know if all the lyrics are right, but oh well. You get the idea.

Well. Hm. I just did a crazy thing, and I think it's funny, but I think the other kids in the computer lab probably don't. Or maybe they do, but in a bad way. I just was looking up Elliot Smith lyrics whilst listening to Elliot Smith on my headphones, and all of the sudden started to sing this song to myself. Which doesn't seem like such a big deal, but honestly, usually when things feel that weird and I recognize them suddenly, I would image they probably are strange. The thing is, I Couldn't hear myself singing, I just realized I was. I wasn't that loud, but it's pretty quite in the library. I tried to cover it up like I'd been humming or something, and looked at the ceiling and all around the room, as though I were pondering or looking for something, but I think that just made me look even crazier. Listening to Headphones in libraries reminds me of every day in the last two years of high school. I know we weren't aloud to listen to headphones, but I can't remember getting in trouble very often about them, even though I listened to them everyday. I have this fear at the moment that I'll grow older, about 40 or so, and still be so depressed. I'll pop out some kids, and when they are old enough to realize anything they'll go up to daddy with curious eyes and ask, "Daddy, why is mommy sleeping all the time?" or "Daddy, why does mommy smoke so many cigarettes? Doesn't she know they're bad for her?" Because in my experience, kids as young as 4 already know that cigarettes are bad for you. So yeah, for a while my children will silently resent me, and then as they grow they'll learn how to verbally show me how pathetic I am. I don't think I could ever imagine dealing with that. Creating something, and then that creation telling you that you're wasting your life and you're pathetic. I'd probably say, "Well, I made you didn't I?" That's frightening. I want to be asleep right now, but, off to work... It's getting harder and harder to press through every responsibility, but at the same time I feel more motivation because I can sense that everything is about to be so so f.ucked in my life if I don't do something about it now. Therein lies the test. Determining whether or not anything is really worth saving.

I heart The Daily Show. I also heart strange John Kerry parties where I don't know anyone, but there's lots and lots of alcohol. Some of which I'm drinking right now. Good ole MD 20/20 that I found in my bag this morning and thought, "...Oh yeah." Man, I feel like it's the end of the world, but still feel like everything is the same. I love The Daily Show, it is great, why are these people so funny!? It's a gift. Oh man. I feel incredibly gross today, rather, I should feel that way, and don't, but I'm sure I look disgusting. OHOHOHOHOH!!!! There's a preview for The Life Aquatic on the TV!!! I'm so excited about that. I want to see I Heart Huckabees, too, and Sideways. And there's this new show called Huff, with Hank Azaria (sp?) and Oliver Plat. I love them so. AND a ton of movies with Jude Law, which, good or not, is great because he is ever so attractive. Yes! I feel like there are some good movies coming out. I love movies. I love. I love. I love. I wish everyone loved as much as I did, and loved the things that I love, or could at least understand them. I'm almost positive that absolutely no one in this city understands me, or can make heads or tails of where I'm coming from half the time. Man. That's unfortunate. On Tuesday my pop culture class was in the library, and when it came time to leave I didn't know where my professor was, and the whole class was still there, so I didn't know what to do. I approached this table of people and said very softly, "Um... hey..." And this tough guy with braces who talks just like my cousin George grunted, "WHAT." It was really weird and awkward, so I stumbled over words and asked them if they thought we could leave. Brace face said something like, "oh yeah, I'm sure that's fine." I apologized for interrupting and he said it was okay. As I walked away they were completely quiet, and when I was about 15 yards away they started cracking up. I thought to myself, "they're laughing at me... awe..." I told Lauren and we decided that I should have turned around, and in a very dull voice said, "You're laughing at me. Aren't you." Then slowly turned and walked away. I think I should have said that and then run as fast as I could out of the library. It would have been very weird and Wes Anderson. I might be able to sit in on my friend Rob's drawing class and draw someone's naked body. Bodies are so beautiful. I'm so excited! It'll be great. And his instructor is this man named Paul who thinks I'm funny. Actually, he thinks Blanche DuBois is funny. Cameron Diaz is not pretty or funny. Why did the TV just say that. TV, you say so many dumb things. TV is so messed up. I just saw three commercials, one for a fancy tooth brush (what?) one for a Snickers power bar for "the energy you crave," and one for Taco Bell. So, the way I see it, my teeth aren't white enough, I should exercise more and eat disgusting energy bars that taste good now or something and eat lots of tacos until I'm "full." Eat more, exercise more and look better. I hate commercials. Man. I'm so inconsistent. Actually, I suppose I'm very consistent, because I'm consistently trying to be consistent. That works? I don't think I have anything else to say. I feel terrible in my brain. My brain feels terrible terrible terrible. Terrible. Just terrible. Terrible. Last night I writhed on the floor at my job. No on was there, so it was okay, I guess. I hate writhing and crying on the cold, tile floor. I love air planes though. They amaze me, and make me tear up. I feel so small. I feel like I live in such a strange time. I've been doing a lot of "research" on Elliot Smith for my magazine, which I'm thinking about calling Your Favorite Band Sucks magazine; issue one. Whadya think? It's from a t-shirt. Things move to fast for me. Everything is so quick and flashy. Lauren thinks I'm crazy. I think she's worried about me, actually I know she is because she said she is. She says I pass things off as funny, which I do. For instance, walking around for four hours, talking to myself, and not wearing shoes. It's so easy to pass that off as hilarious, so I do. Because it's easier to deal with in that light. So let's let things be funny for now, but when I'm institutionalized, let's not be surprised. UUUUUuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I need to drink faster.

i'm going to silence myself
calm my insides down
and mend my bones
gradually dig my grave in solitude
bury myself in unwashed sheets and old goose feathers
suffocated by my own smoke
hardened by chemicals
and bad water
we can't see in the dark
but that's what i'm going for
so shut the blinds
say, "it's okay to be this way," it cleanses
and confronts an illness
we all choose what we want out of life
this is my desire
a means to an end
an end, to a beginning.




if anything
i'd like to be an inspiration
good or bad
it doesn't matter

some say I dance a wicked dance
some say I waltz along
the fine and crooked line of morality
I say
I walked my dangerous line of love for you
And I've never loved so freely



I feel like my heart is in this constant state of pouring itself out. The faucet is running, and the handle controlling the flow is broken. I'm sick. I'm blah. I'm whatever. I can't even help myself anymore. And the more I talk the more vulnerable and pathetic I fell. kids. kids. kids. Why so glum. Pass the time. Pass the time. Pass the time. Pass the time. Pass the time... smoke another cigarette. BLah blah blah. This is ridiculous. This is outlandish and somethin' else. Today has been pretty consistent, however. Not so up and down, left and right and write. Your eyes did the talking.

i'm freaking out lately
always thinking about bones and babies
you make me
pump blood
i make me
b
l
e
e
d
blood
and cough up lung
i want to be smashed in
i want to fall out
sitting here,
filthy and blind
let's either live large
or not live at all
because i itch all over




fever blisters and sweaty palms
it was your eyes that did the talking
and they spoke so much of nothing
despite it all
i loved you sort of
i couldn't tell anymore


I was so depressed in my poetry class today I had to let my hair down, let it cover my face, so no one could see me. Like I wasn't there if they couldn't see my eyes. I just wanted to be sleeping. Then I would very randomly explode about something someone had said. One man said that prose poetry wasn't poetry, and I freaked out at him. But what really got me was someone commended Wordsworth for revising his poetry years and years after he wrote it because he felt differently about it at 65. Okay. No. I don't think that makes any sense, because how you feel when you are 20, greatly differs from how you feel at 60, and this is obvious. But you can't change how you felt at 20, you can't go back and change the thoughts you had at 20. YOu can't make it a different experience than what it was. In the giant history book of your life you cannot go back to chapter 12, when you are at chapter 35, and change anything about that because people change, and life is a giant revision, and we change on a weekly basis. What I wrote a week ago is different in some way than how I feel NOW! Let alone, the poetry I wrote in Jr. High now seems ridiculous, BUT THAT IS HOW I FELT then!!! And it makes sense to put it in context of being 14 years old. I can't change how I felt at 14. I know more now, but it wouldn't make any sense to pretend like I had 20 year old thoughts at 14. IT IS IMPOssible!!! so whatever guy in my poetry class! You are stupid and don't know anything and you listen to contemporary christian music!!! SO what do you know!!! ABout life and poetry and your god and everything else. GLK;ljkdjlkf/.