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2002 15 October :: 6.15 pm
hooray.. tomorrow is the last day of the quarter and only two more tests... and thursday i go home.. stlouis... hooray. i'm so excited. party on friday hopefuly at lils, celebrating 1-6 and chilling with people i haven't seen in months. people i hope to see: allie lil les clayton nathan chris brian my bro dad sarah ben... sigh.... today i found out that next week on my bday i start swimming practice at 5am and have two tests. hoo-rah. that'll be enjoyable. i'm just foaming at the mouth for thursday morning to come......
psycho-analyze me |
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2002 3 October :: 4.51 pm
:: Mood: whut
mimesis tonight.. highlight of the school week.. "conor time" if you will.. i don't know. he's a cool kid, and conor and steve and maybe lowell are all definately coming with me to stlouis... good times. i cannot wait. i hope i can get people together to have a bday party or whatnot that weekend. that'll be fun times. sigh... anyways here i go
psycho-analyze me |
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2002 29 September :: 6.19 pm
:: Mood: sad
plot it out
i have failed myself... my will is not as strong as i thought it was.
..i am invincible
psycho-analyze me |
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2002 22 September :: 11.56 pm
and more...
i wonder sometimes
if i push too hard
on your hipbones,
protruding like animal skulls
will they crumble beneath my fingertips
like clay left out in the sun
hot and hard with heat?
i wonder if your ribs are just that-
your ribs.
or
do they encage anything monstrous inside of you?
do they shut me out?
parallel and sharp,
they are always present
like i should be afraid,
terrified of your milky white hardness-
like the china in my mother's cabinet.
what i woudln't love to take
that china and
smash it in my hand
watch it crumble
like the animal skulls
and your hipbones
...bone china they call it...
and you, like porcelain
with dull eyes like
the dolls in the store windows-
the ones that follow you as you walk by,
the dolls you think about when you wake up
at night,
pulsating with heat.
3 psycho-analysts |
psycho-analyze me |
::
2002 22 September :: 11.40 pm
just more.... theres always more...
i'm sick with heat
the kind of heat that
bottles up in my bones
and comes in waves
like water,
sweeping over me so fast
i quietly sweat and pray
the heat away..
but it stays
its the kind of heat i don't even realize until its so hot, i explode with every single thing i can't handle. explode into a puddle of warmth- staining pants and bedsheets like a wonderous martyr massacre. like something is there beside me, quickening my pulse and endangering my quest for comfort- my search for the cool side of the pillow. satisfaction never cames, and here i lay..
its the kind of heat that you want to savor, the heat that might not come for days, weeks, months.. heat that may not come like this again. yesterday, it was fall and today is the hottest haitian summer day. i'm barefoot and runing but even the rain is boiling and sizzling on my limbs like small pieces of gorgeous ash falling from the red sky. this heat puts me to sleep and wakes me up just the same- wakes me up in confusion. this heat is so thick, it takes me minutes to realize where i am-the time on the clock is later than it should be and my forehead is beaded with cold exhaustion. i fall in and out of apt consciousness, always aware of the pressure in my temples, the passion beating down on my thighs. my handso n my thighs, pushing away the fervent heat.. pushing away the aching...
i always ache for you in the hot haitian days. i always seek you out from beneath moist covers and a lack of breath... my eyes rarely shut anymoree- always searching for you, my shelter from the heat. my pretty little painted fan, delicate and fragile.
the bed smells of mothers and exhaustion. i have to get up before i'll be able to come back and sleep. but i've been sleeping for two days, i tell you. you don't believe me. you walk away with your milky-white bones and your delicate hands-your dull eyes. you tell me it will all be over in the morning, but now it is my turn for weariness
psycho-analyze me |
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2002 22 September :: 10.14 pm
:: Mood: the type of mood that made vangogh cut off his ear
i am intoxicated with words
i am floating
soaring
flying
i am swimming in a sea
of self-destruction
self-discovery
he came to me
like words come to poets
slow at first
seeping through veins
out fingertips
seeping slow
and low
and cutting-
caustic like the september moon
then fast and biting
vitriolic by nature
pulsing
shooting
never ending
he came to me
lounged in my mind and
on my carpet
talking in tongues
and with symbols
i never knew when he was being real
i never knew when he was being
cold and bold
in my old age
i tell him to try the door
he doesn't matter anymore
he has kept me alive
with his strong will
the same will
that leaves me up at night
almost breathing
hands on hair
on face
squirming for exhaustion
groping for the light
groping for my head
for my belly-
the blood that runs deep
and thick
blood red-
blood that hasn't yet hit the cold air.
theres something inside of me
i tell him
i tell him we created it
i tell him he made me drown
in my own lack of words
its only beginning
i say
i bite my lip until blood
knowing
its all over
1 psycho-analyst |
psycho-analyze me |
::
2002 22 September :: 3.53 pm
:: Mood: sick
got a new journal... hooray. been needing one for awhile. its wonderful, but i had to pay for it... grr. money is a constant issue around this house these days. i owe lillian almost 85 dollars, and i have about 17 to my name. i have to send that box to lillian this tuesday with that money, also, and buy a bus ticket to stlouis for the 16th as well. i might have to start whoring myself out on the weekends.
2 psycho-analysts |
psycho-analyze me |
::
2002 21 September :: 6.43 pm
:: Mood: hungry
:: Music: ben harper- oppression
....3 boxes of smirnoff, gallons of rum and lots of green is ok sometimes. like in big groups of people, when you don't remember what happened, and have to go to swimming the next morning and come home to sleep off a hangover until 6pm, than its just insane... last night was the party at vins that was supposedly "cancelled" because there were too many people coming. 20 people showed up and everybody spent the night. it was the greatest time while it was happening.. i met all these new people who are older at my school and almost all of them were like "hey i know you! i didn't know you did this stuff!"... and they'd laugh and we'd hug and have this moment that was like a "we're cool now" moment and this underlying notion that we'd all be doing this again together sometime this year... anyways. its almost 7pm and my mom left for the night but nothing about going out and doing stuff with people is appealing. i might just go back to sleep.
1 psycho-analyst |
psycho-analyze me |
::
2002 17 September :: 7.38 pm
:: Music: ben harper- fight for your mind
i haven't WRITTEN in ages
i had nothing once.
the starkness of it all
is hard to grasp now
too profound for words
curses
fulminating, eminating
from every pore-
i'm bleeding for mankind now
i'm suffering for your sins.
but this day is
just like the last is
just like the last.
hours passed
minutes clicked away
like rain on the window
like rain on my eyelids
is it rain now?
rain down my face,
streaming from a green sea
rain on my lips
tastes of all those
tired nights...
those awkward words
those gray clothes
and gray boys
and gray thoughts.
the rain is gray again tonight.
you looked at me.
no, that's not how it started..
i realized you first.
before you had the chance
to incriminate me in your mind
i copied your every feature
on napkins
and matchbooks
dusting them against my thighs
in the warmth of my pockets
which whisper history
incessently
asking me
"where were you?"
i lower my eyes from across the room
you have stopped me.
you are alert.
your senses faded with my gray rain
and i let you in to stay
you shake your umbrella and
say something trivial about the weather
but i have not listened-
i am too busy focusing
on the rain on your face.
i question morality all of a sudden-
i question YOU
-often now-
there isn'e a day that goes by
that i dont' wonder
look
think
glance
chance to meet you
in your purest form
your shrunken dripping self
coming to my house-
a shelter from the gray rain.
but in turn
FINDING the colorless wonder
your link to me-
your conversation starter
your realization of my
one pure weakness.
but where does that leave me?
a hallway full of puddles
your footprint
dry and stained now
and fading ever so slowly
but surely as well.
i stand with the door open now
on nights
when the rain turns to gray
mist on my face
swirling hair
air like the duluth border
where are you now?
the footprints gone now
i'm almost grown now
its almost midnight now
where are you?
you know where to find mme now
when the rain turns to gray
if you come with your comments
and your umbrella-
even your shoes
which may stain for years more to come
i'll have no choice
but to let you in.
whats another day?
i can't bare another storm without you..
2 psycho-analysts |
psycho-analyze me |
::
2002 15 September :: 7.22 pm
friend's birthday + 2 cases of beer + lots of green + big group of fun people + Lillian + outside, no parents + bon fire + great weather + darkness = good times. i had missed nights like that for so long... other than the panic attack, it was so much fun. Lowell "helped" with my breathing or whatever.. and we ended up away from everybody else, just laying in the grass... talking.. my hands were cold, so he put them inside his sleeves and it was just.. comfortable. we walked back to the group and it felt different than before. (on top of the fact that i could now breathe) it felt like lowell and i knew something that no one else did. and those are the moments i love to remember..
1 psycho-analyst |
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::
2002 9 September :: 6.55 pm
:: Music: norah jones still
so i haven't really written in awhile.. been soo fucking busy. lets just list the stuff i'm involved in right now (leaving out the emotional ish and everything social):
-student council, ran, won, THEN realized the work i have to do
-swimming everyday
-homework, tests, essays that never end- big one due wednesday that i should probably start. shit.
-newspaper article due this thursday... gotta start that too.. shit.
-speech for the whole highschool tomorrow about why people should join the school writing club.. grr..
-oh yeah, pres of writing club.. good..
aaaaah siigh.
but anyways. enough whining- i do that alot lately. this past weekend was really cool. elyse's on friday... literally kayaking and "kayaking" the st.joe river with lauren justin and lowell.. crashing that night early because every bone in my body was so exhausted.. i love those nights.. saturday i went to a cbury soccer game, swam, and did homework and whatnot.. took a night off from everything, which was pretty nice. watched ghost world, but wasn't really a fan of it. i wasn't paying attention much tho.
sunday i swam again, finished my homework and saw swimfan avec lowell. that was a good night... physicalness was sparce but on account of other things and i was soo fucking tense. sigh..
today's monday.. i hate mondays.. but today actually wasn't that bad. well, then i start to think about all the shit i have to get done and start freaking out.. but thinking about the weekend is fun and time-wasting... ahh...
"crooked little smile on her face.. tells a tale of grace. that's all her own...."
i should go get something done
1 psycho-analyst |
psycho-analyze me |
::
2002 9 September :: 6.54 pm
:: Music: norah jones
god as if i didn't already know
What Kind of Relationship is Right For You?
1 psycho-analyst |
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2002 5 September :: 5.37 pm
...i miss lowell.. i know you're gonna read this and whatnot, but its the truth. ..i just don't see you enough. sigh. well i have homework from yesterday, day, two tests tomorrow and swimming in like an hour.. goooood. if i wasn't so scared i'd have a panic attack, i'd go smoke like 987 cloves. i think that's a good plan for the weekend though. as long as i'm with other people...
2 psycho-analysts |
psycho-analyze me |
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