31.10.07

mouth to mouth

there is more than one kind of resuscitation.

fitter happier

something is undoubtedly right here.

my bathroom is freshly cleaned, outside is crisp and cool, my hair is wind-blown and careless, my smile is genuine and dedicated to the joys of autumn. my breath is new and i am glad of living.

today is very much a beautiful, good, glorious day.

28.10.07

that was me

why


hold my hand
hold my breath


someone please give me the answers


----


there are some people i just want to hold.
put my hands on their cheeks, kiss them on the forehead. run my fingers through their hair, let them lean on my shoulder, sink into my chest. hold their hands, tell them everything will be alright. comfort them.

there are some people that i want to hold me.
to put their hands on my cheeks, kiss me on the forehead, let their fingers linger there. lean on their shoulder, sink into their chest. hold my hands. reassure me. comfort me.

i don't know which i want more.

27.10.07

windows.

i am no exhibitionist.
really.








(i'm glad you think i'll be famous; it's really quite crazy how many people have started saying that.
although i believe you that you've believed it all along.

i kind of want to be famous, and i'm starting to think that if a lot of people think that...
it might come true?

oh, false hope.)

24.10.07

i am always love

i went to say sorry to the trees today. sorry that they were dying, again, for another year. and that i don't blame them, because i die every year, too. i also came to tell them that i might not see them again for awhile, that i would miss them. but i cannot sit underneath my tree when there is snow fighting me for the spot. snow will always win.

i went to cry, too, because there is nowhere here to cry. there is always someone. there is always the chance of someone walking in and having to explain yourself, having to answer the "what's wrong" and that awkward shoulder pat. i wouldn't know how to answer, and i don't want anyone to pat my shoulder. it turns out that the woods aren't even a good place to cry. i want to collapse in my bed in tears; in tears because there is nowhere to cry. i can't cry here because there are always people. i went home and couldn't cry because there were too many people. i can't be alone, i can't be alone to be sad.

when i went to say i was sorry, i fell into a thought, and i don't know what i think about it.
it happened with any sort of contemplation.

"the world is so beautiful, and i am so sad."

it escaped from my lips, a pale whisper, lost into the leaves before i could think.

is it really like that?

is the world really so beautiful, and am i really so sad?

you know, it is a very hard thing to be in love with the world. it sounds like such a beautiful thing, and people always wish they are. and i am. but the problem with being in love with the world is that the world is a terrible, terrible heartbreaker. it's that tragic sort of unrequited love when you know that you're never going to get it back in exactly the same way you are pouring yourself out. i am getting tired. i am getting so tired of this love. but i can't stop it. it's not something i can just control. i am in love with everything and everyone, and everything and everyone cannot love me back. and yet i go on.

i want just one.
i want just one to finally love me back in the same pure, undiluted, constant way.
and yet everyone is too different, and nothing will ever be solid. nothing will ever balance in the way that i try, so desperately, to enact. and i will keep living with my unrequited love for the world.

23.10.07

excellent conversationalist.

he called.
he called.
he called.
he called.

he called, and i wasn't there to answer.

so i called, and he wasn't there to answer.

and then he called.
and i was there to answer.

he called.
he called.
he called.
he called.

we are taking steps.

do i want to move forward?

22.10.07

fragmented.

i feel like this has happened to me a million times. i feel like this moment has happened a million times, me falling into you. although i know it hasn't.

---

this has got to stop, you know. you can't just walk up to me while i'm in the shower, exposed, fragile, suddenly wrapped in the plastic of the curtain, kiss me, and leave. and when i ask you about it later, you most definitely cannot tell me it was nothing. it cannot be nothing. it's never nothing. this has got to stop. you can't keep making these crazy gestures, use these crazy ideas, and tell me that there is no substance beyond the surface.

---

dreams, dreams, dreams.
for at least five hours after i wake up, they consume me.
these reoccurring characters consume me.
especially the ones i cannot place.

21.10.07

i don't know what love is

you can't blame me; at least i tried.


(who do you talk to when there's nothing [and everything] to say?)





[i held so many people in my suitcase heart]

18.10.07

apologies

i don't know how to ask for help anymore.

16.10.07

holy water

i keep having dreams, and this is no old news.
but i keep having the same dreams, over and over. too many times. so i wonder if my mind is trying to say something. if it's trying to push me.

but it can only push so far.

there's what i want on the inside, and then there is what i acknowledge as the reality of what i want. what my mind knows is the right thing, and what my heart is yelling, hands clutching the bars, attempting to escape. i know now that my heart is always my mind's captive, as romantic as i fancy myself.

i get so lost in the music sometimes, it makes me ashamed. it turns off and i am brought back to this harsh reality that i am not in a film, that i am not in control of this situation. i am no director. this car ride is not endless.

i poured out my soul to a microphone yesterday, and then gave it to the world. and i'm slightly embarassed, slightly ashamed. because now everyone can know what i am. what i feel. some of the deepest inner workings of my being. these things were my insides, my quiet practice rooms and silent ideas. and now, they are for everyone.

please don't break them.

hold them in your hand, and know you are holding the part of me i never, never wanted to show you.
and did anyway.

13.10.07

12.10.07

documentaries

i'm not an atheist that laughs at people who believe.
no, no, i could never be. because i understand why they do. i understand that vital necessity for some sort of reason in the midst of chaos.

but i cannot believe what they believe.

i respect their faith, but i am sad for their blind stupidity. it's all so old, so archaic. these religions are out of date, and all based upon things that even their followers do not look into. if everyone were educated on the basis of their religions, if everyone did research, if everyone looked farther...things would be much different.



were you aware that more people have been killed in religious wars than all of the other wars in history combined?
it's tragic.
it's so incredibly terrible.
i cannot believe.


i cannot believe in a god who creates hell, in a god who advocates violence, in a god with anger; your god.



but i can believe in love, and i can believe in something. so i do.
to hold on to something.

9.10.07

new songs

oh, i was born in


7.10.07

unwarranted information

it's really odd, but when i'm hanging out under my tree at the park reading and listening to music and doing whatever it is i do, i always end up getting this crazy urge to take my shirt off.

i don't, of course.

but the sunshine and breeze feels so good on my arms and legs...why not on my stomach, why not on my chest?

(because that's wildly inappropriate. even if i wouldn't be doing anything that would make the situation rated r. it would still be ridiculously awkward and...wildly inappropriate.)

but damn it would feel good.

5.10.07

3.10.07

shopping carts

found this in an old(er) notebook. it did regress into second person about eight sentences in, but i accidentally deleted most of it while i was typing (i'm excellent like that) and decided fuck it, i'll write it up in first person. it feels a little more poignant in second person, so if you wish to read the original, something can be arranged, but i doubt anyone actually cares that much. (it's okay; i don't really, either.)



I am full of something I don't know, something I am trying to discover. I'm practically frantic. Something is pushing, pushing, and finally pull. I have no grip. Everything is falling, but it's not a new sensation. Nothing feels new even if I am completely immersed in newness. I have seen it all before. These noises are old news, old ex-friends talking to their joyful new acquaintances on their cell phones as I pass them in the grocery, paying no attention to me as I pass by and attempt to hid my rather embarrassing supply of comic books and fruit juice. They are fleeting. I am fleeting. Everything begins to feel small, much smaller than me and definitely much smaller than the grocery. Suddenly I know decisively what it is to be really, truly alive, and it means nothing to me. It's just another bag of apples to put in my cart, check out, and eat later when my stomach wakes up. Footsteps belong to thousands of people I've never been introduced to, but I already know. I only have to hear their voice to know everything about them, or at least assume I do. They are read like books, they are opened like doors that never did get that lock installed. And this is such a sad thing.

2.10.07

shtar twek: entapwise

so i'm a geek.


what of it?

1.10.07

elephants inside boa constrictors

"You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on. "One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you - the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose."


("It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."

"You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose...")






i have learned more from this book than i can say.


i am absorbed in books lately.