eating animals

i'd really like to stay dedicated to vegetarianism this time. it's something i really believe in for so many reasons.

i just have a really hard time sticking to it, with so many people close to me so adamantly pro-meat. it was easier last year, with so many fellow veggies to go to for support.

am i the only one here?

romantic yogurt

life is full of silly, silly things.

and sometimes that word is the only accurate descriptor.

hello; i'm a cliche.

it's two in the morning and i'm reading bukowski.

my roommate is sleeping and i'm not going to bed partly out of insomnia, and partly out of not wanting to find pajamas in the dark.

i miss having my own tiny room sometimes, but only once in a while.
having other people is really, really nice.

actually, now that i think about it, i am tired. i bid you adieu. until tomorrow.

balance.

there is this little twitch in my legs and this little thought in my head that keeps telling me to start running. and you know what? i kind of want to. (okay, i really want to.) but this means i have to buy running shoes, and a new sports bra, and, fear of all fears, it means i have to use the treadmill in the workout room, which is potentially in front of other people. and that...that is no good.

but man, oh man. the control freak in me is really excited about the potential for goals and pushing myself.
of course, this is juxtaposed with yoga, to keep the calm in me happy.

small and alive.

and then i bent over and set it on top of the water, thin but not weak. it drifted like a leaf, like i was the tree that wrote that letter. the current was reversed, so close to the island, and so my words went backwards for a while, until they were swept up in the mighty mississippi, unable to strain any longer against its pull. i cried. i began to pick up rocks to throw into the river, one by one, making loud splashes, feeling an angry and relieved strain in my arm over and over. but then, finally, i looked back up and it had gone. i don't know if it sank, or just floated out of my view. in any case, it is gone.

well, the paper is gone.

the problem is not.

but somehow, this is easier, now.

devastated.

personal goals:

ASAP, begin making higher quality recordings to put online.

by next semester at the latest, gig at least bi-weekly.
buy a gig bag and a small PA system.

by next year, play at least once a week.
become a familiar face in the coffee-house scene.
set up a track list to prepare for an album.
have a decent size fan base.



i am overwhelmed, a little bit.
oh, world - please, please like me.
(if only gigs would come to me.
but life could never be that easy.)

shoulder stands.

today on my yoga video:

"for this pose, you will need a chair, several blankets, a belt, and a small towel."

and what, pray tell, are you planning to do, rodney yee?

i would like to

be your favorite.

secret sisterhood.

in my dreams last night, i was in a paper house in the rain; i also got inducted into a society in which i had to share secrets and learn secrets and do a secret handshake.

i wish that dreams had playback once we were awake.

never-ending sunday.

it is hard to make friends here, and easy to write letters.

maybe things would feel easier if i had another job, but that requires me doing even more job searching, and i'm sick of that. really. and having time to myself is nice (although i'm not quite sure what to do with this much of it.)

creativity is becoming this strange creature lately that i can barely see. songs are not rolling out of me, but are in this cycle of trickle, trickle, pour; trickle, trickle, pour. nothing's gushing. i don't even feel like writing poetry. i don't even feel like singing sometimes.

i think it's time to take things in halves. it's easier to handle that way.

the funny guy.

i want this to be dialogue in a sitcom:
"my weight loss goal? well, um, i've never told anyone this, but i'd always hoped that at least one person in the world would automatically picture me when they heard the first verse of 'faith' by george michael."

je me souviens.

hopefully i will work my way out of this writer's block.
chords are just hard, right now, which is weird, but maybe good. i worked too hard to be complicated, to be difficult and intelligent. i wanted to be interesting and smart, but interesting doesn't have to be a mess of difficult patterns. interesting is often simple and elegant. (it's strange, because that's the kind of art i really enjoy, yet rarely produce.)

i am going to write songs as other people.
i am going to pretend to be other people and let them write my songs through me.

first - an old woman.
next - who knows.

je me souviens
la guerre, la guerre
l'amour, l'amour
la guerre d'amour
(oh, love's a war.)

whimpers.

i had a dream last night that the world ended, and i wasn't able to gather the people i loved together in time.
right now, i just want to get everyone i love and hug them, and hug them, and hug them.

(my dreams are getting stranger and, generally, sadder and more violent. i dislike this.)

ropes.

we are a bunch of strings that are intertwined but not tied to one another, this odd family of mine.
it is generally a lie, these attachments, isn't it? the way we are.

i am sad about not being sad.

i am selfish.

colors, colors everywhere.

made a beautiful cake yesterday. i am making friends - there were ten people in my apartment eating rainbow cake and playing catchphrase and talking about life changes. i didn't really know most of them, but who knows what will happen. i am so excited to meet people and love people.

the apartment is grand. i am feeling happy here, inspired here, almost home here. i haven't been here long enough to really know, but i think things will be good.

i have a lead on a job - that is exciting. so exciting. ahhhh.

the clouds are so very close here. i can watch the lightning come down in a way i never imagined. i can also watch cars go all around, boats go on the river, trains pass by....everything is out my window. i love this apartment. i really, really do.

silent drive.

the drive back from grand rapids tonight was oddly empty. there were no other cars on the road for maybe twenty minutes or more of that drive, and i was surrounded by orange construction barrels reflecting back at me.

i started to cry as soon as i hit fulton. i didn't stop until i got to coopersville.

"the end of history" sang to me until the car sat in the garage.

i am not sure what to think or how to feel. i've already started a letter.

it begins.


[i move this week]
{what about love?}

cigarette eyes

stepped out of the cliched comfort zone to go to the gay bar tonight. (the comfort zone-stepping was not for the gay part, but for the bar. i don't do lots of lights and crowds and smoke and drinks, generally.)
dancing with the little crowd of boys i was with was a good time (especially when the other girl's boyfriend showed up and danced awkwardly). it was all just silly and fun.

it was stripper night, too, which was kind of odd at first. and i'm thinking a lot about sex workers right now, and what that must be like. there were some unattractive, uncomfortable looking people out there tonight in the crowd. there were large women and old men and a girl who might have been a bit mentally retarded. the strippers had to look at all of them, dance on all of them, and make them feel sexy. and members of both sexes, too - you have to pretend to want to fuck what you don't really want to fuck.

of course, being with who i was with, i got dragged out onto "the square," as they call it, which is where you wait patiently for your lap dance, ones strategically placed. it just felt strange, watching this man crawl all over these people who are paying him for a half minute of attention, of pretend sex, knowing i would have a turn. i wished silently over and over that i wouldn't feel awkward, embarrassed. i knew i had to have a good balance - i couldn't be a prude, but i couldn't be creepily into it like i'd seen some people. i also wished that he wouldn't bend me over. that seemed odd.

but then it got to be my turn, and i didn't even care anymore. my heart wasn't into it, and he was just doing his job, really. our bodies were just close. it was just motion, movement. nothing awkward, but nothing felt actually sexual. at least for me. i know i am an exception to the rule for this, judging by the crowd i saw tonight, but i got nothing out of it other than a good laugh and an experience. when my thirty seconds were up, he looked at me awkwardly, not knowing where my money was. i had to show him, laughing, and he grabbed the one from my breast pocket with his teeth, smiled, and went on to lift up another girl's ankles, put his face in another guy's crotch. no big deal.

this is where i know for sure that cheap, meaningless sex is something i cannot do. ah, well.
it's for the best.

dirty chai

tonight was good. it felt real, albeit small. i felt love and excitement; i remembered how much i love to perform.

i hope that as time goes on, i get just as excited for every gig i play.

also, i really enjoy menswear, and i am loving all the free menswear i've been getting lately. old man sweaters, button-down shirts...but i also love my new pencil skirt. dare i say i feel, as a friend put it, "like a fox"? because that's kind of an awesome, previously unexperienced feeling.

i move in a week and a few hours.
excitement, nerves, insomnia, fear, energy, worry, hope.

all the way down

i'd rather not fall in love, i am thinking.

i'd rather, at this point, go for easy hook-ups and friends with benefits and cuddle buddies and all the goodness and joy in human contact without the emotions that sometimes drown the simplicity.
but, of course, i am saying this in this moment right now.
tomorrow morning, i will probably change my mind.

but for some reason, it seems like detachment and looking at everything like a scientist could be oh so much easier, don't you think?

"i propose an experiment."
"are you asking me out?"

made you say it

okay, so this is the second time i've left my underwear at a boy's apartment.

they say third time's the charm...who's next?

nonsleep

i am up too late for the first time in ages!
maybe that's what i was missing; maybe this is when the magic happens.

i'll keep you updated.

moving - less than one month
work ending - less than one week
festival gig thing - less than one week

all good things and bad things and neutral things

reboot

it's been a while.
i need to keep it going; i'm losing myself in this state of nonwriting.
but i am reading a lot.

i am a premium reader.

overload

i am playing piano; she says there is a dance for us?
too many people

i need to
cry

maltreatment of the brain; thinking healing was done; i cannot do this myself, apparently

two families is too many.
one family is too many.
i would like to go.

this feels all too familiar.

at least i look nice in that dress.

starting again.

today i am feeling lethargic and sad.
that is okay.
that is good, reassuring.

i just want to go back to bed.
that might not be okay.

however, i have been listening to music.
i haven't done that in a while, which was not okay.
so now it is back, pleasant and nostalgic.

and here i am, reevaluating who i am and what i mean again.
surreality is back, maybe to stay.
nothing really makes sense.
i don't expect it to anytime soon.
things are stark, pressed between pages of big reference books, clean.

i had a hard time sleeping last night, although i was so tired.
probably the caffeine running through my body,
and the thoughts running through my brain.
i had wild, vivid dreams.

two kinds

i've had coffee and tea tonight. i am very tired. i don't know where my black notebook is and i am getting obsessive. i want to sleep, i want to read. i don't have the attention span to do either.

i very much need to clean.

theater on wheels will make for an interesting summer.

my thoughts feel a bit disjointed.

i need a good cry so badly. it's stuck inside of me. i haven't cried for a long time, too long a time. there are things i need to cry about. this is not good. i don't like it one bit.

sleep wants to take me right now. i should go with it. i just want to write more. that's good though, good that writing is coming back. it had gone away and that upset me. i was afraid it would leave forever.

i wrote a poem today, a poem for a song. i think i could be a lyric-writer. not an exceptionally good one, but one nonetheless. (nonetheless was a word i really loved for a long time.)

tomorrow i want to clean my room and read on my roof. hopefully tomorrow-me remembers the things right-now me wants.

bed, bed, bed. good night.

no, no, no.

http://www.oneimage.org/Images/index.htm


what is wrong with humanity?
i want to cry.
cry.