listing, listening

things i've been writing lately:

pieces of poems
beginnings of unsent letters
songs about death
songs about home
songs about wanting
mostly unfinished songs

mostly unfinished things


out of sight

we haven't talked
(written, emailed, called, texted, sung, laughed, met eyes, spoken, understood, caught up, shaken hands, told stories, contacted one another in any way)
in four months.

it's eating me up.
it's setting me free.

somebody, somebody
please tell me if i am right or wrong
so i can stop thinking about it so much.

he is my father in some ways, but not all ways.
i cannot forget that.
(please don't tell him.)


gender studies.

remembering, now:
i like being friends with women just as much as i like being friends with men.
it's just that i like being friends with intelligent people more than dull, uninteresting people
and i have just been finding more interesting men than women lately, is all.


liquid life.

i pulled the sink's handle towards me;
instinctively grabbing "hot," although
i always forget
which is left and which is right.

my family is yelling across the house at one another
the water runs smooth into my hands,
hot on my face,
drowning them out.


the teabag stayed in too long,
so to remedy the situation,
i will just add more and more water
until it tastes just right.


looking at pictures of the ocean.
it seems big.

looking at pictures of the galaxy.
it seems bigger.


just one

i had forgotten.

should've, could've, would've - i won't indulge in any of these.
i am okay with the way things turned out.

i wish i were so many things.
i wish i knew.

(out of many, never one.)

spent a mid-week-weekend catching up with people.
it's funny who we love, who we grow out of. who we should've called and who we should've ignored. (these "we"s are gradually becoming "i"s. also, i forget how to pluralize words.)
wrote a poem on the back of someone else's bank receipt about a taking a piss with a cat rubbing up against my legs. forgot it in someone else's bedroom. he will probably throw it away and it will be lost forever.

i don't lead a poetical life, but i try to write about it, anyway. i need more exploits.


boxed salads.

my friends are my family.

and like family, we often fall out of touch, have obligatory phone calls, and then either feel awkward or remember how much we love one another.

i am going to write a lot, being back here.



(strangest in the afternoon)

school is done. had a lucid dream last night. i always fly when i am lucid dreaming; why not?
i have marvelously talented friends across a wide range of fields, and it makes me excited for the things we could make. also, i think some of my teachers may also be my friends, and that's a good feeling.

i'm very stressed about some things i haven't taken care of. very much so.
but i'm also glad that classes are now over. i will go back to michigan for two weeks, do everything i can there, and then come back to school. (i am excited to see how things turn out. i'm a horrible planner, but i do believe that things that are supposed to happen, do.)

passive, passive always. that's alright, sometimes.

time to go work for a few hours and read a lot. everyone seems to like hemingway when i bring him up. i like him a lot, too. sometime, though, i will write a small dissertation on how boys who read books want to be with girls like the ones in the books, but then don't know what to do when they find them. or at least amongst the small sampling i've found.

until next time, faithful reader(s). (whomever you may be.)