tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40113252012-02-04T18:13:35.841-08:00{infinite}m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.comBlogger4781100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-70876875974884599732011-09-27T13:13:00.002-07:002011-09-27T13:36:51.831-07:00{ in any moment, this is the day. }
A means to the end. I don't serve a God of condemnation. I bow to a God of redemption and Grace. And he is here now. He does come here, to the bar, where I've found myself again. It is not bad. I am not as bad as I was at a time. But I've come here in lieu of a craving. I feel a false safety. I know. I don't want to drink. I crave fellowship. I want friends. And they aren't here. Truly, there m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-54401987230415202872011-09-27T13:13:00.001-07:002011-09-27T13:13:43.785-07:00{ I don't feel like itm.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-3843298353645948722011-09-27T13:13:00.000-07:002011-09-27T13:17:09.620-07:00{ a story. }I wanted to write a story about a time and place, as though it were my own. So I began. I'd been reading old letters that had slipped behind my desk; they were unopened and filmy. I remember years ago setting them in a specific pile at the top left portion of my desk and saying, I'll get to those later. Put off and off and off. Let's be honest, I had good intentions for those letters, but I m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-20438546174721936782011-09-27T13:12:00.000-07:002011-09-27T13:37:45.938-07:00{ tricky trade-offs & the limbo of love. }
There are many things I say "hi" to in the morning. I think about this often. Hot feet hit freezing floorboards and there's a hello. I throw my dress on over my nightgown. Hello to coffee, hello to cream, hello to kitties and kitchens and mirrors and washing machines. Before I fall asleep at night, I always say the "Our Father." It's what I've done since I was a kid, sans 2002-2006ish. m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-79769955791577900072011-04-04T01:04:00.002-07:002011-04-04T01:06:23.923-07:00{ false moves. }there is life and green growth in these treesthe sun heats the west side of the housewhile I sit facing east, held up in the shadowsafraid of all that good light it sees me too wellknows when I close my eyesthe flinting mechanism turns to sandstonemelts away with the good feelings day splits again, a dart through a down heartfeathers burst forth and fly everywheregreat gravity directs me m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-65141557713259262542010-11-13T20:19:00.007-08:002010-11-13T21:31:54.426-08:00{ all hush. }I suppose I'll tell you a story.It's raining.And I'm outside.But as long as you're okay with that,I am too.I feel as though I've lived three lives upon arriving to this shore-less shore.This plot in the middle of nowhere. An ancient stone house I call my home for now.Actually this won't be a story at all. I'm just going to verbally vomit for a time.You have been warned...I have almost been m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-55408231701239397082010-09-28T22:46:00.006-07:002010-09-28T23:12:29.271-07:00{ like a heartbeat drives you mad. }There is little to distract me at the moment.It's two am. And I am drinking bourbon.Smoking cigarettes.This is a recipe, and I am the Martha Stewart of ill-conceived notions.A meticulously prepared undertaker of affection.I could bake you ten cakes in twenty minutes filled with feelings of adulation.But there's no one here to eat them. These temporal delicacies.And I can smoke and drink m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-55177397117670984142010-09-26T19:33:00.008-07:002010-09-26T20:22:40.000-07:00{ mama says I think too much. }Every time I write, I am hoping to somehow forge my identity. I want to be figuring something out, in some capacity of life. Each time it's painful, like giving birth. But I imagine, when one gives birth, the resulting "product" is almost always "perfect" in the eyes of the mother. I have a hard time imagining a woman going through all the pains of labour, only to see her child and say, "Hmmmm.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-67305130964597532122010-09-22T21:07:00.002-07:002010-09-23T16:05:17.514-07:00{ spider / wino. }Giant spider on my bottle of wine. Get outta there.My brother told me the story of how spiders came to be yesterday.We were driving to the cigar and wine shop. He was clad in full military uniform, hat and all. He looked real nice. "You see," He said. "In Greek mythology, there was this lady named Arachne, who was an incomparable mortal weaver, and eventually began to boast that shem.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-53022670171364778632010-09-21T19:10:00.003-07:002010-09-21T19:24:44.037-07:00{ gush. }Words don't seem like much without the music to back themSo I'll just do my best to make this sound real sweetI don't have an instrumentBut I got these fingersAnd the nerve to practiceUntil you hear the symphony of my heart stringsm.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-55181011256663514292010-09-20T21:54:00.004-07:002010-09-21T19:28:38.659-07:00{ instrumental. }I'm sitting on the front porch. Up to my eyeballs in daydreams and fuzzy thoughts. It was a simple day. I did simple things. Here is a list of them: dentist, sandwich, play with kittens, computer, made a bed, watch football, made a pizza. I am presently adding drink bourbon and smoke cigarette, and will polish off the night with clean kitchen and fall asleep. My sleep schedule ism.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-67547845288325501512010-09-16T20:54:00.003-07:002010-09-16T21:05:30.470-07:00{ death may be a handsome man. }These days creep away in slow motion. I feel they get the better of me sometimes.So this is it. I'm trying to be in the moment. Which has forever proven itself to be difficult for me. It breeds too much intellectual planning and little result. I lay down for a nap next to Grama and the dog. I am so tired and wish to daydream along the edge of sleep. Like a walk on the beach. But thatm.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-17701691409449698922010-09-14T19:15:00.003-07:002010-09-16T20:58:10.498-07:00{ where we are from. }"It's Saturday, right?" I ask my dad as we drive. "'Fraid not. It's Sunday.""Really? No way." It feels like Saturday, but then, come to think of it, I don't know what day it feels like."Oh it's Sunday alright." He chuckles as the corn streams past the truck like a sea of gold ripe for the plowing. Soon the combines will be out. I can already smell burning leaves in the evening. Andm.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-36642431837217701792010-08-27T21:51:00.010-07:002010-09-17T01:28:16.579-07:00{ she holds a phantom. }We speak the common language of hope,and this specific tongue exists everywhere.The world breaths it in.All the time.Lately I have been hoping again in the dream of much good love. Heaven help me. There are so many songs about love, and half of them are about fools in it. The majority are lamentations. Sincere beseechings. I often feel my hopes are misdirected.When the air cools, and the m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-21705146506126077112009-07-22T20:23:00.007-07:002009-07-22T20:59:04.806-07:00{ the basement. }It's mostly quiet. The dogs are having dreams.I've learned to use my dad's cigarette machine. But I pack them too tightly, and they are difficult to smoke. Everyone is in bed by now. My hair is longer. It keeps falling into the glass of bourbon before me; I suckle alcoholic strands, and everything is gold. Everything is quiet, to the point where my ears begin to fabricate cricket fiddles. m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-4642202362821503612009-05-24T22:48:00.009-07:002010-06-16T19:20:24.466-07:00{ alone in a lonely world. }This is where I write my saddest songs. Where the constancy of time pretends to hum me towards direction, where I drift into the distraction of waking sleep, far from home. Where I heap up all the empty feelings, and hope tomorrow can place them in the compost, on the altar, and anticipate regenerative matter and fertility. Tomorrow seems a long way off.Alone in a lonely world the phone rings. m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-35501657025033922792009-04-13T17:57:00.011-07:002009-09-27T16:04:48.524-07:00{why ache so large. why ache is nothing at all.}taken by the whims of the world. by revelry and birthed bad habits. like ugly babies we found and held as if they were our own. we eyeballed each other in the dark alleyways of narrow thought. of hopelessness. on the path I took farther away from the preexisting severed Spirit of divinity. I was mostly formless then. and stuffed this stepchild down my dress. fused it with the breaking bone. m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-54042835777369088362009-03-17T19:38:00.008-07:002009-03-17T19:55:10.750-07:00{ always back and onto something. }Life in itself is definitive. As I write these words. As I drew those pictures. As I ate the left-over millet. As I smoke a cigarette. The mind and the body and the spirit are all interconnected and working together to create this epic adventure. This casual experience. The story that has been written and is being played out in each breath, an exhausted sigh, a break of dawn inhalation, grunt. m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-49492741426879259712009-03-16T09:45:00.009-07:002009-03-16T17:43:45.217-07:00{ Mercies Knew Each Day. }I lived alone for many years.Quit early on.Fairly Fresh gave into distance,absence, and the Disquieted days of Drought.captive to CapricesSpirit became large and ill-proportionedin all the wrong placesfilled by meals of mammon.bloated on the roadsidestill very much alive.And O!Kisses on the LipsSupreme Softness came from nowhere.so sorry spirit buckled,White Knuckled,braced for impactand burst, m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-25172253526133426182009-03-05T18:40:00.002-08:002009-03-05T18:41:38.788-08:00{ ... }m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-55116364244270800262009-02-19T09:38:00.003-08:002009-02-19T09:41:25.469-08:00{ An Ending Ascent. }The old man was dying. Up until the week prior he had been seemingly lucid, still carrying the burdens of age in his motions, all very slow and calculated, quieted by the accumulation of time. His days had been the same as they ever were; still accompanying the hunts, honing the skills of young Bow and Arrow men, reciting tales to the children. But by week's end, his fever had developed, and he m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-71867990940395282342009-02-12T18:51:00.002-08:002009-02-12T18:53:53.400-08:00{ hello world. }Maybe I'm just tired. And maybe I just work too much. But I feel funny. So much processing. I feel like a processor. Always processing all the time. Maybe it's my period. Or the rice I just ate. Or life. Can't say what feel like. Not making sense. Can't put finger on brain. Not here. Not now> save/ Yourself.m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-3930780625058678042009-02-09T09:52:00.002-08:002009-02-09T10:01:36.979-08:00{ eating your words. until the technicolor yawn. }it is the point in the evening where I find myself. seeking out the solitary place where they won't find me, and if they did, it would be important and good. a soft good. like when a dog stays put. or when a small child writes a letter correctly for the first time. old voices somehow sound like sad time gone by, which isn't to say the times were sad. good things happened, but the memories sag m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-21153177928130506872009-01-26T18:14:00.003-08:002009-01-26T18:16:28.926-08:00{ OH MY GOOOOD!! }Sorry I haven't been blogging. I have been Writing a lot of Stuff where you can't Read it though. The above Clip has been playing in my Head all Day.m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-51357408291096825432009-01-21T10:24:00.002-08:002009-01-21T10:27:02.367-08:00{ agenda. }I Just want to read. All the Time. Books and Books. And eat Raw Food so mah Belly don't hurt. And Smell new Smells. And Hear new Songs. Nap in my Clean White Bed. Covered in Cotton. Ride that Blue Bike all around Town. And watch The Sun Go down. Thank You for this day.m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-7318923734727399672008-12-04T18:23:00.002-08:002008-12-04T18:32:38.568-08:00{ foot-in-mouth. }You know like, when you're trying to make friends, and it seems the more you try, the more you fail at making friends? Like, when you put yourself out there, out on the line, all naked and shit, it is at the most inappropiate moment, inadvertantly, that you make your move. Or say your piece. Two cents. So everyone looks at you like you're the most malapropo person ever. Yeah. It's funny, m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-89147863913747960332008-12-03T20:10:00.002-08:002008-12-04T18:32:57.449-08:00{ of loss. }we lost himalong with all the others.a sense resides among the livingthat when we are to dieit is notably referred to as"a loss" of someoneas though they wandered offinto the woodsor sailed into stormy seas,never to be heard fromor seen again.and what a wonderwhen so oftenwe will professthat at the end of lifepeace expounds.did we then misplace anyoneor did they simply finda better lifein losing m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-45826409441243950662008-11-16T22:57:00.002-08:002008-11-16T23:01:41.327-08:00{ I am tired still. }this Life is hard work, I say. Thirsty and sleepy. not as it should be. I have been feeling very low. very unhealthy. very spiritually irresponsible. I hate feeling this way. things are difficult at the moment. and I am pining over hope. I have some, but my Thirst seems to be distracting me. but Thirst too, is good. so I shall sleep now. and Tomorrow is brand new Day, alongside the m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-87516410170479279272008-11-13T21:01:00.005-08:002008-12-03T11:30:13.536-08:00{ Joe or Casey; the Dead man. }a diabolical breath fill the lungs of this sorry sailor. a Man died today. another servant of our alcoholic mistress. there was a party on his behalf. his ship finally came in. his ship did sail. and now, he stands at the foot of God. pleading his case. like We all will.I did not know this Man. but he was alive at the same time as myself. we may have met. I don't know. nor would he. m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-10785876025897243762008-10-30T08:41:00.004-07:002008-10-30T08:48:21.871-07:00{ mess. }i'm a mess. very tired. probably hung over. because i'm an alcoholic. come on now megan. get it together. must find secret place to hide in. i have a stupid meeting at 9:15. but i really just want to crawl back in bed. or at least change out of the crazy clothes i am wearing. i'm sporting two very different and very intense patterns. this sucks. for no reason except than because i do. not making m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-34267108241841438162008-10-24T23:06:00.003-07:002009-03-05T18:55:15.802-08:00{ wearing white to the wedding. }today meant work. plans for the Great Reformation of myself. as i walked to the bar, in order to continue my long, unending farewell to whiskey, a man quickly past beside me, announcing, "passing on your left." as he continued up the sidewalk, he approached a large bush to his right. lackadaisically, he extended his right hand and gently brushed the outermost leaves with his fingertips. not m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-12709689299952567242008-10-17T10:07:00.004-07:002008-10-17T10:16:11.820-07:00{ muddle. }i've been ingesting a lot of visions lately. other people's vision. reading comic books and watching movies. and let me say, comics are like crack. i love art and poetry and literature and film, but none of these seems to stick to my brain like a good graphic novel. i want to read more/other comics, but require long pauses in between. to find myself again. i live in other people's worlds, and i m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-16964497950685283292008-10-13T10:42:00.002-07:002008-11-13T20:54:05.331-08:00{ for the sake of civility. }i have a really hard time getting involved with politics. i don't like them. in my experience, any discussion turns into argument. and people try to make other people feel stupid.m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-76886430222397249792008-10-12T10:44:00.003-07:002008-10-12T11:04:46.447-07:00{ sometimes back to earth. }wanna know what's exciting???THIS:it's so GREAT! i'm trying not to think about it. because it'll consume my thoughts. i just got home from camping. there's nothing quite like this unclean smell i am exuding right now. it pleases me. last night in fact, i was asked to read bedtime stories to a hoard of kids. i had some Bourbon in me, mind you, but i think it was just the right amount to m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-83935188948667302872008-10-07T10:05:00.004-07:002008-10-07T10:17:53.333-07:00{ diarrhea city. }it is true that i didn't think too much about the hot tub. i thought, "oh, that will be nice. to sit in the hot tub." but my brain didn't go much farther than that. but oh, gourd, i got home last night, put on my bathing suit, and soaked with a glass of wine, and let me tell you, it was phenomenal. honestly. so the new house is going well.why do people where those spandex bike suits? i don't m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-21954675171587389652008-10-01T09:17:00.004-07:002008-10-01T09:31:56.704-07:00{ just like honey. }this day seemed to spell disaster. but i think it will turn out okay. i ate oatmeal with brown sugar, and boy, let me tell ya, it hit the proverbial spot. now i'm drinking peppermint tea out of Vicki! Vicki! is my mug. i found her at goodwill, all white with black letters; she called out to me.so this is day three of sobriety. it's going well. phase one is complete. now onto the next venture: m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-85875439317237609532008-09-29T09:31:00.004-07:002008-09-29T09:36:51.145-07:00{ eff this. }i don't like parties. anymore, i really don't like drinking. but getting to that point where i can keep myself from drinking, well, that's a horse of a different colour. i need another adventure. i'm about to move into a nice place, with a fire pit, plum tree and hot tub. with my own private balcony. and the change will be oh so nice. but i need to go on some form of adventure. some trip m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-39607474338648667642008-09-23T10:09:00.002-07:002008-09-23T10:15:39.517-07:00{ i am hilarious. }sometimes i think i'm really funny. hey, do you know what's exciting? fall. fall is exciting. it's my favourite season. maybe i'm just saying that because it's new and fresh, and exactly what i need. here's a bad dream i had once, taken from the archives of this very blog, from 2003:Wow, worst dream ever... Last night I had this horrific dream. Where does my mind come up with this stuff. Dreams m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-32865142422566138002008-09-22T10:28:00.008-07:002008-09-23T10:19:54.031-07:00{ old ironsides. }lots of things are happening. here are some of them:-school (as in the teachy kind)-church (as in the learny kind)-looking for home (fingers crossed, this seems to be going well)-considering gallery (called "ironsides")-fall is today (very exciting)-still trying to not drink, but eat well (constant struggle)but it's a lot of stuff. i've been working 60 hour weeks for two weeks now. not so fun. i m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-47871260996674480602008-09-19T09:40:00.004-07:002008-09-19T12:09:01.228-07:00{of love and hate.}i just ate a lot of hot sauce. it was delicious. made me sweat under my eyes and on the upper lip. my mouth is on fire. oh hot sauce, you make me a fool. but when i get a taste of you, it seems i can't stop until i've absolutely debilitated myself with your strength. you make me vulnerable. how will this ever work? how can we succeed? every time i have you in my clutches, i'm like a drunkard. m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-66428298332814204042008-09-16T09:20:00.002-07:002008-09-16T09:22:13.560-07:00{fat lady.}i'm pretty sure i'm a "fat lady". i don't really feel like one. i know i'm doughy. but when i look at pictures of myself i look enormous. well... back to the drawing board...m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-11261226979351084442008-09-14T17:52:00.003-07:002008-09-14T18:04:01.785-07:00{kid plague.}the first week of school was murder. i've contracted what is now know (by me/to me} as "kid plague." which is the product of suddenly being around a hundred and fifty children all of the sudden. i might as well be eating germs like a big bowl of cereal. on a lighter note, i went to church today, and followed this with brunch prepared by the bee at his workjob. it was very satisfying. i likem.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-21810044055639653392008-09-12T10:18:00.002-07:002008-09-12T10:26:32.418-07:00{the magic boring.}the magic boring is what sage and i call the grocery store when we are on adventures through neverland. or through oz. or whatever land he is currently reading about. i haven't told anyone this yet, but, i'm dying. very very slowly. it won't be too long now. i am dying because i am so boring. the most boring person in the world, actually. i am so tired. and sick. the kids germs flocked m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-81752900790487599452008-09-09T10:43:00.004-07:002008-09-12T13:46:25.720-07:00{farewell, despereaux.}today i found a baby mouse in the kitchen at school. he was trapped in a tub and looking very tired. i showed him to a teacher, who screamed and ran from the room. i had no idea people were so afraid of mice in real life. it always seemed like a cartoon thing. i named him Despereaux, after the mouse of Tales, and after introducing him to many children, i set out to release him. for some time we m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-37639823786926723342008-09-05T11:40:00.001-07:002008-09-05T12:18:36.431-07:00{one step forward, two steps back.}i finished a journal last night. school started on wednesday. i still need an assistant, and it's murder trying to organize a room of fifteen kids who just got out of school alone, in addition to being in a gigantic auditorium, where each child is just losing themselves in that great amount of space. i'm hungry and weirded out about everything.m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-41613358410319708802008-08-28T16:32:00.003-07:002008-08-28T16:37:20.597-07:00{calling quits.}i have a lot of things to say, but don't really want to talk about it here. it's nothing i haven't said before. nothing i haven't felt before. maybe i haven't felt this exact way before, but pretty close. the basics are the same. i'm tired..m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-29802061311575509262008-08-12T19:17:00.007-07:002009-03-16T09:01:31.968-07:00{ another broken psalm. }save me by the blossomsby bike rides and clean laundrythe fresh fruits eaten by morningthe sweat of my brow.and the sweet words of night.pray for me. as a father.as the farmersifting handsthrough the parched soil of spiriton the hottest days of the yearpressing taught and tannedface and fingersinto the corroded earth within me.your breath is mineral.breathing out and into dirttaking in m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-2314305033772547762008-08-06T18:42:00.010-07:002009-03-16T09:02:04.408-07:00{ force feeding myself sorrow. }the world broke menow i stow away,rebuilt by divinitybodies cast the shadowsblood on bed and blankets.there are names to crywith no response,fingers without feeling.a dog barks in the backyardwanting to be fedcalling out to deaf ears.the brass tacks of being.this love can't find you.once the soul took over spiritand a sense of self was lostto the capricescalled out, i came blindlythough the m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-48987370492006237842008-07-31T22:22:00.010-07:002009-03-16T09:02:39.169-07:00{ the meaning of wolves. }take to spirit kindly, beaststhe trees call to us the sameour refuge is God-given.the wilderness in which spirit has been lostfor many years, it bleeds out an empty wound withinand spirit was anointedgatheredup in armsand placed beside myself.no adjustment comes with ease.there are apparitions among these stoney fieldswould love to see a spirit vanquishedat human altersand likely lap the blood m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-8517947456187854452008-07-26T10:02:00.002-07:002008-07-26T10:05:33.947-07:00{potter wasp.}scariest thing ever.m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-71412110708039438572008-07-17T21:47:00.002-07:002008-07-20T22:18:37.477-07:00{huh?}batman is best. oh gourd. it sure is good.i need some time alone kids. my head is full. as is my stomach. i think i'm mostly tired and dehydrated. it's hard to keep up the health plan i've been on since coming home. i hadn't been drinking for a while. or eating anything but fruit. now i'm drinking and eating lots of chicken. i feel exhausted. emotionally and physically. and mostly m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-29393211401237237182008-07-17T00:05:00.001-07:002008-07-17T00:08:06.966-07:00{think about life.}have i mentioned lately that i love portland? because i do. i just got home. in ohio. at my folks house. my grama got sick, so i came home to take care of her for a few weeks. i was really excited to get here. still am. i flew all day. down to atlanta, up to detroit. but coming home is always emotionally tumultuous and discouraging. the person you have become is somehow slighted by the m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-81884594684084752262008-07-07T00:03:00.009-07:002008-07-07T00:49:04.563-07:00{stuff and things.}thinking about space.ice cream for breakfast.some kitty.i just watched be kind rewind. and that film is totally sweet. i suppose i can understand why no one really mentioned much about it after it came out. i mean, heaven forbid michel gondry direct a major production that's not some seemingly intense by means of good writing love story that every girl and boy all over the usa feels connected m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-41855503384972581982008-07-05T17:25:00.004-07:002008-07-05T17:42:27.538-07:00{also this.}i've never seen footloose. but i saw both of these scenes within a few weeks of one another. and they made me laugh a lot. and i like to laugh, turns out.the fall strikes me as stupid. and the movie kind of blows too, but the dance is great.m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-8546780647034709592008-07-05T17:11:00.002-07:002008-07-05T17:43:06.606-07:00{bowie.}so this made me happy. in addition to the fact that i already love david bowie.you get the idea. it's hilarious!!!i don't remember where i was, probably in cleveland working at the coffee shop, where we often spat on and on about music and crazy music desert island scenarios and ridiculously minute facts about bands and really that was all we talked about, music, which was totally great and i m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-83158313719195337922008-07-04T12:44:00.003-07:002008-11-13T20:50:56.307-08:00{ oscar wilde. }i didn't edit this post. so it's all garbled. but this story made me cry when i read it to a four year old. it's very well written. i love it.She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses,' cried the young Student; 'but in all my garden there is no red rose.' From her nest in the holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-65793196932621859682008-06-23T14:50:00.001-07:002008-06-23T15:45:53.892-07:00{sit pretty}... i am in love and trying.m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-32459618753670014392008-06-18T11:26:00.002-07:002008-06-18T11:29:16.796-07:00{out of control.}my head feels like it weighs 30 lbs. and evertime i move it, it's as though it's full of liquid metal that's sloshing around. i feel horrid. make it go away.m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-32550471867390824512008-06-10T20:20:00.003-07:002008-06-12T18:44:46.772-07:00{celebrate everything.}school's over. i want people to share drinks and laughter with me. and celebrate! but everyone is too busy or boring. call me a hedonist. i probably am. but i like to celebrate. i like ceremonies. and congratulating the beginnings and the ends of things. and school is over! so i'm gonna go drink at the bar. probably alone. i feel this is a rite. and i want to bask in the pageantry ofm.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-52317383017738343852008-06-10T12:49:00.001-07:002008-06-10T12:49:47.887-07:00{fin.}life is so weird. today is the last day of school! huzzah. they've offered me benefits and a retirement fund at work. i'll be making a very decent amount of money. i have a bed. i have a bike. i have two hands, two legs, lungs, fingernails. it's all very exciting, you see. glory be.also, "we" watched The Protector last night. it was amazing. you should see it.the only thing i need now is a littlem.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-10219158621582310842008-06-09T10:03:00.003-07:002008-06-09T10:07:19.632-07:00{eeky bagina.}last week these kindergarten girls were playing a game called "eeky bagina." i'm pretty sure they meant "vagina." when i asked what the game was all about, they said it involved pretending to be mice and saying lots of gross words. fair enough. i then had this conversation with a three year old:kid: i saw felix.me: oh yeah? who's felix. is he a cat?kid: i saw him at laurelfirst park. he had a m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-76021859964880538692008-06-09T09:35:00.004-07:002008-06-09T09:55:03.014-07:00{sister sally.}we love you. the good ones. it is true, as they say, that we killed off all spiritual debilitaters. they had been coming to bed with us. drinking our sanguine blood as we slept. in morning, we awoke to our own weepings. until soon, the mornings no longer bore the fresh fruits of good dreaming and glad tidings. we began to lay like paralyzed insects, wrapped in webs of deceit. no one knows to movem.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-55590450783744131072008-06-06T11:07:00.004-07:002009-03-13T10:33:29.627-07:00{tgif.}there is something so inherently hilarious about that grouping of letters. they cause me to stir with ludicrous giddiness and laughter every time i hear them. they're so stupid! and yet, every friday, i find myself internally voicing them to myself throughout the day... my deepest secret.it makes me think of shows like Family Matters, Step by Step, and Full House. none of which i watched. during m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-18740565718228816502008-06-04T13:42:00.002-07:002008-06-04T13:43:39.899-07:00{doom.}today my alarm didn't go off. i had to be here at 7am, and woke at 6:36am. it takes ten minutes to bike to school. i hate my outfit. it makes me feel dumpy. or at least frumpy. mostly chubby. i didn't have a key to get into the building either. so this kinndy named Zach and i had to bust in, which was easy, because one of the doors was unlocked. we tripped the alarm and ran down the halls. it wasm.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-79587111182660316612008-06-02T21:58:00.004-07:002008-11-13T20:52:30.990-08:00{ offerings. }some days i feel i have nothing to offer anyone. i am boring. there is nothing special about me. i am not neat. or creative. or gifted. or intelligent. i see so many people and things that are so wonderful and beautiful all the time and everywhere i turn with love in me. and then i think about myself and the lack-lack-lacking. it's a weird day. i am still grateful. but something's m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-34318800670997539112008-05-28T18:55:00.001-07:002008-05-28T18:55:42.411-07:00{funk.}how can the word "funk" have two polar-opposite definitions. to be in a funk, as in, down in the mouth. or funk, as in music stuffs, which can be associated with feelings of merriment (and, not to mention when something has a bad funk, like it smells real stinky.)last night i saw jamie lidell. he had a band. it was amazing. i cut a rug. it was expensive. and persian.m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-80616107678749634442008-05-26T11:54:00.001-07:002008-05-26T11:55:01.182-07:00{liars.}i always loved this song. and now, the song i adore is accompanied by a killer video. oh yeah.m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-25436985434814115492008-05-25T18:53:00.004-07:002008-05-26T17:42:04.221-07:00{the power & the glory.}friday.this is a time and a place to focus.can you hear me?a drunken place and the smallest drink ever.filled with bad sounds and old smells. the kind of place you feel an intruder. all the speech is loud and slurred. the scent of vomit lingers in a boxed-in cancer factory. separate from the world. part of the world. i just saw the handsome bike shop man. careening up the avenue. glazed like a m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-84473154131114950332008-05-23T17:52:00.003-07:002008-05-23T17:53:41.737-07:00{she looks like she knows how to have fun.}whisky will help me focus. i'm stripping down. making myself endless. mastering.m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-44595186222300252392008-05-23T13:43:00.001-07:002008-05-23T13:43:37.143-07:00{mistah toad.}apparently, i'm mildly dyslexic. i don't know exactly how true that is, but it's what my mom told me. i always "earned" B's in reading, all throughout elementary school. spelling was about the same. but when a student managed all A's at the end of each quarter, they were bestowed a gold star sticker on their quarterly completion certificate, or whatever the hell that waste of paper was. m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-10090673126621806162008-05-21T11:51:00.010-07:002008-05-21T13:29:28.294-07:00{what it takes to remember all that work to forget.}"how are you?""i'm good- i'm well- rather..."correction: nausea. my eyes are filled with steam. as though they might fully solidify like a couple of hard-boiled eggs. thick yolky retinas. i eat clouds. i bake cakes. endlessly. it's no use. you are not welcome here. don't .i've set my mind to something. i'm upset. my thoughts are eating me alive. but i ain't licked yet. establish the works of my m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-1809843644185730642008-05-19T10:10:00.002-07:002008-05-19T10:17:11.406-07:00{all the world is flat.}i have nightmares of getting flat tires on my bike. everything deflates.presently. i am sitting in an office, with a seven year old kindergartner. she's been screaming at the top of her lungs for about ten minutes. then she cries and moans loudly for a time. until she peters out, and asks to play with beeswax. a third grader pops into the room to ask if we're coming to the third grade play. and m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-19161434107624437242008-05-13T11:02:00.002-07:002008-05-13T11:24:44.935-07:00{surprise & water.}time warp dementia. days andays andays andays. i need a bed. someone send me a bed. i can't sleep... it turns my days to mush.like right now.sometimes i really think i have borderline personality disorder. then i think, probably not, i'm just figuring life out. but my thoughts are continually paradoxical. i feel like one person, with two separately stable, and consistently contradictory thought m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-52604951187366040042008-05-07T13:59:00.005-07:002008-05-08T21:03:55.759-07:00{cyclones.}what is the difference between a tornado and a cyclone? is there any. i've been dwelling upon tornadoes all day. they excite me. when i was a child, i would close my ears during the radio weather update. if i heard the word "thunderstorm," my heart would race against fear. and were a tornado watch or warning to occur, you could find me, under the air hockey table in the basement. possibly m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-65781888833451674662008-05-05T10:47:00.000-07:002008-05-05T10:48:44.598-07:00{dodge.}this weekend was grounding. or maybe it was releasing. i don't know. either way, it was astonishing and altogether necessary. we had to abort this city. the girl and i. cut it out of our stomachs like a malignancy. we drove that car to the coast. sought rest. out west. in a tiny town. southern/british motel. brian the elderly clerk. takes care. kindergarten cop and cork screws. we m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-58919591555051182832008-05-02T09:40:00.001-07:002008-05-02T09:41:59.783-07:00{cusp.}shannon and i are skipping town. i need to forget humanity for a few days. get smelly. crouch on the edge of a large rock overlooking the endless ocean, and get my head on straight. i'm beginning to know how to do that. before now, if i lost myself, i was really hard to find again. and i'm coming to know the necessary steps to get myself together. so we're gonna go. we're gonna take this m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-43940717238259344442008-05-01T21:25:00.001-07:002008-05-01T21:25:53.933-07:00{drunk like me.}i'm running this train into the river tonightit's been a long time comin'.it was there. and you took it.one giant step back.allowing the heart to work its waypast the breastplatehandling it softyand holding it to teethyou ate. every last bite.with the consistency of gravelscraping down your gulletand dropping heavyit splintered through innards.what's a girl like me to dowith m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-52724936094327382312008-04-30T10:29:00.002-07:002008-04-30T10:33:07.321-07:00{the morals of a monday.}a day's final swelljust before the ebb of sleepdistinction of days waxingmelting into memoriesburning up inside meboiling down to a thick brackish pastethat resides in my left breastand renders me uselessthis speaks like a dreamwandering back and forthbetween sobriety and drunkennessloneliness and laughteris there any way to beso continually happyan altruistic pattern of thoughtwhich will lead mem.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-78728413735264782182008-04-27T19:09:00.004-07:002008-04-27T19:18:45.219-07:00{over-under stimulation?}today i realized my ass is huge. i always knew it was big, but me from the backside... good god... from the front everything seems okay. i'm a doughy lady, but wow. i guess i had no idea.anyway. so this week was crazy. how was yours? sundays always exhaust my brains emotional department. it's like a surreal come down from the entire week in one day. i don't usually talk to anyone; i just m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-58006669447531971062008-04-25T17:22:00.004-07:002008-04-25T17:33:43.314-07:00{chilled out entertainer.}stuff yer face. my brains is currently making this noise: "wauw-wauw-wauw". so many things to do. so little time. crazy. but the day before yesterday was "book giving day" i guess. this day involves a woman choosing a man for which to give a book, and in return, he gives her a rose. it was initiated in spain. now it's all "international" and shit. some handsome firey, redhead named jeremy told mem.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-69601140593355833652008-04-22T09:59:00.002-07:002008-04-22T10:05:16.798-07:00{fast.}okay spring time. i need you to progress. i will be moving in about a week and a half. in with two fine gentlemen named jeff and scott. jeff is 35, whereas scott is 33. jeff is from northern california, and scott is from cleveland. he has a tattoo of ohio on his arm. it makes me so happy. i spoke with jeff yesterday about painting my room, and after our conversation, i felt contented. i m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-48622555641048282962008-04-20T22:04:00.006-07:002008-04-21T10:01:09.607-07:00{the precipice.}separate the wheatfrom the chaff.what makes sensewhat is goodthe days i enjoyleaking awayinto a heated drunkenness.bad smells.direct me towardsthe light. the everlasting.having proof and showing worth.these are the stepsforwardsthe steps back.onwards and upwards we say.and the day after merrimenti feel nothingwill ever be okay againknowing all the fallaciesreeling back from my own disappointmentsm.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-40627015653457171432008-04-17T11:21:00.001-07:002008-04-17T11:21:44.967-07:00{full.}these i would like to see:(this one looks so freakin good.)(oh. my. gourd.)(amazing trailer:)chris and i ate at Genoa last night. it was amazing... eleven courses. tons of wine.m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-61475340780548791892008-04-16T13:11:00.002-07:002008-04-16T13:16:04.891-07:00{ailment accumulation.}some of the kids at school are so wonderful, i get teary when i talk to them. the ones with extra vivid imaginations. i can't even put into words how they are, or make me feel. they're just great. also, i'm pretty sure i have head lice. and athlete's foot. and a canker sore. bruises a kimbo.and i may have found a place to live with two guys in their thirties. everything is GREAT!m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-87138470477603804032008-04-12T11:54:00.002-07:002008-04-12T12:09:04.751-07:00{baby's got the bends.}we don't have any real friends.hey. hey... come hang out with me. i have all these funny stories to tell. music to share. bikes to ride. bees to scream at. comics to make. i like you. make me laugh so hard i pee my pants. i don't care. m.henry.m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-48560731752459334472008-04-11T22:38:00.002-07:002008-04-11T22:41:47.529-07:00{sometimes i write things.}i can see them as oldtell that i'm tiredbells are ringingfeet shuffleto the back of the busonce, phone calls were madefrom such a transferand the ins and outs of loveleft us still wantingat arms lengthwe watch the transitionsover the river travelingthrough the definitions of lifepleasurable momentsof relational quality.the excitement of personhoodthe delight of fondnessm.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-61686832064844759462008-04-11T22:16:00.003-07:002008-04-11T22:29:36.331-07:00{forgetting how much you love things.}comics are wonderful. daily i am bombarded by things i enjoy. often, things i have forgotten the amount of which i enjoy, and i think to myself, "i love { }!!! it's so great! i want to continue my pursuits in this field of thing. and make lots of said thing." but then i forget. because it seems that this occurs so often, with such a multitude of subjects, i have a hard time laying m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-35329747046492064722008-04-04T13:29:00.002-07:002008-11-13T20:56:31.038-08:00{tings.}i really want to play rugby. or soccer. and for some reason, arnold schwarzenegger makes me really happy. i just like that guy. i think it's because i grew up watching him cover himself in mud, blow up aliens, or turn into a robot. all whilst making the weirdest faces and most horribly dramatic screams. what a weirdo.m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-56578808334230497152008-03-30T18:00:00.000-07:002008-03-30T18:01:10.635-07:00{johnny on the spot.}windows see the world,and my glasses are alwaysfalling from my face.the night beats loudly.silent howling at the moon,city streets below.lovers, shut your blinds.this intimate solitude,incomparable.up the spinal basethoughts cannot stop their creeping,and i am lonely,constantly countingto quiet nightly stirrings.we are only sheep.cattle cannot seethe world keeping them captured.they never escape.m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-89144071571282928482008-03-29T18:23:00.002-07:002008-11-13T20:57:29.414-08:00{ mysteries. }jacked up on coffee. i was sitting outside having a cigarette. when a group of women past me by, and one of them said softly, "hello miss megan..." i exhaled a mouthful of smoke, looking startled. she was wearing a red wind-breaker, telling me her daughter attends kindergarten at the school where i work. my brain skimmed through a list of the kindergarten/parent faces i could remember. m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-78829491404846767382008-03-29T15:28:00.001-07:002008-03-29T15:30:30.354-07:00{letters to lynn. vol. one.}i had "gaim" at one point, but no longer. my computer couldn’t take it. what’s funny is, i was just thinking about calling you. i have been for a few days, because i’m on spring break and have been alone a lot. but i too, am bad at phone calls. just as you are. i can try to get "gaim" again, but honestly, this computer is just so damn slow. it’s painful, and shuts off for no reason sometimes. m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-44061607065741501322008-03-19T13:32:00.000-07:002008-03-19T13:33:12.977-07:00{having a moment.m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-28127537325774091142008-03-08T18:57:00.002-08:002008-03-08T19:12:36.420-08:00{free your skin.}enter the bar. in a new setting it's hard to tell where to place yourself at first. glance at the bar, too small. not crowded, but interspersed with old men. it seems the possibility that one of them will talk to me is too high for comfort. can't risk it. a deuce at the far end of the "dining area" looks safely secluded. i smell of coconuts. and my breasts keep inching out the top of my m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-26157072929181970772008-03-08T18:52:00.000-08:002008-03-08T18:54:29.223-08:00{ghost hustler.}days of dust since pastthe new age has arrivedsun heats my calvesand the day breaks in halfcloud covereating when it's right to eatsleeping when it's right to sleepmake this face a womanskeep me warm and breathingthe softest of speechfloating puerilelyand being with the eveningslying with the Feysdrowsing off in mirthand eloquent prayersthese are the firstfruitsthe future awakenedshunning the m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-49267986589088845702008-02-24T15:49:00.004-08:002008-02-24T16:29:15.416-08:00{the menfolk.}there they are. on the sidewalks. with their suits. with their skin. in their hats. on bikes. nice shoes, walking with feet, attached to firm, hairy legs. wearing glasses. crossing the street. eating food. drinking drinks. grizzly and attractive. mouths full of wet teeth. funny hair. flannel shirts. smoking. in the car. staring blankly. looking around. touching things with m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-7930784286421748732008-02-23T18:18:00.002-08:002008-02-23T18:23:29.882-08:00{maybe i'm an idiot.}i've been making a valiant effort towards avoiding situations that are upsetting, petty, or dramatic. i may have just placed myself in one of these moments. however, it's the last show, and i think a final hurrah would be nice. let's just pray nothing bad happens. Lord have mercy..m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-49231908768981957192008-02-20T13:11:00.002-08:002008-02-20T13:27:36.132-08:00{this is the part where}today is a funny day. kids are hilarious. yesterday a conversation went something like this:kid: "miss megan, i lost a tooth last night!"me: "that's awesome! we should have a tooth party."otherkid: "but we don't have any balloons!"me: "we don't need balloons to have a party."olderkid: "parties without planning always end up boring.."me: "whatever! all we need are each other, and some m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-74807986638107977442008-02-17T19:44:00.002-08:002008-02-17T20:05:13.623-08:00{on the farm}each day has its taste. early in the morning the sun shines pink and lavender over the horizon line. the edge of the earth, and into a space that is far beyond my comprehension makes such a seemingly tangible and mysterious beauty. the air is moist with dew, my mind clears the fog of sleep, and eyes open. similar, the sky does daily. a secret love blossoming in my chest, swelling like the m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-49252208748452098282008-02-17T18:18:00.002-08:002008-02-17T18:40:32.314-08:00{american darling valve.}the days are delightfully long. but never full enough. without a friend in the world, i went. we go to the bar after work to see a fellow teacher spin some records. meet up with the boyfriend, not mine, and both are saying this bar is so fantastic. to me it is just another bar. maybe i don't see it. i drink a nice red wine at five dollars a glass. but i know the bottle goes for ten m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4011325.post-11376062530577879032008-02-11T10:57:00.000-08:002008-02-11T11:02:37.326-08:00{gernal.}another journal just about finished. anyone care to send me a new one? i'll write about you..m.henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17379802659619941167noreply@blogger.com0