lucky in cards

unlucky in love.

i've been winning at gin rummy lately.

i need to write a song about it, probably.
it's just that everyone writes about this shit.
but i guess it's because everyone likes to sing along.

on a different note, the smartest thing i've ever written in a freewrite:
"we begin and end crying."


father's day

sent a card, called. felt like this:

i know, i know, internet memes. (it's where i spend my time these days, anyway.)

missed nick drake's birthday, but i guess i always do, on accident. listening to clem snide's "nick drake tape," now.

i should be writing a paper, but i'm too busy feeling.


thumbs up and out

oh, hello, self-medication-through-eating.

you were the worst possible hitchhiker i could've picked up on my road to (what was supposed to be) success. but now you've hopped into the passenger seat, here to convince me that eating five handfuls of goldfish-cracker ripoffs called "whales" is a positive solution to looking at swimsuits for the past few days and feeling like a beached whale myself. you operate entirely in the ironic, don't you?

well, tomorrow. tomorrow i will conquer you. i will vanquish you with sensible portion sizes and fruits and vegetables. i will begin working out instead of eating up.


today i will finish off a few more cherries and then whine for a little while about this research paper.

(the rain...the rain is bringing me down, man.)


home improvement

i want this to be the summer i am happy with myself.

here is a list of things.
i am sort of hoping the public-shaming technique might work out for me.

- get down to a weight i feel good about
- dress better (i.e., abandon the t-shirt most of the time)
- take more walks
- go out and about and explore more
- go to more shows
- spend less time on the internet
- spend more time consuming art
- start putting videos of my songs/cover songs online
- record more songs
- write more poems
- participate in at least one slam
- make a few more friends
- stop saying "but i can't because"


not yet awake

dreams about the river, the ocean, tornadoes on the 18th floor hitting the window, knocking on the door.

what material things are important to me?
what would i save in an emergency?
i didn't know.

also, poetry slams are intensely enjoyable but also make me feel inadequate.


oh, man, guys.

all i can think about is quitting school, finding some sort of this-can-pay-the-bills job (hopefully involving some sort of appropriate nerdery) and just reading and writing all day, and making music when i can. i could do that without going into debt for it. i could do that without a school. i could do that on my own. whatever.

my insides are nervous - i'm doing that thing where i'm not getting things done, where i'm not taking care of my personal life. i'm doing that thing where i procrastinate and it makes me feel sick. i'm doing that thing where i'm very worried but simultaneously telling myself that everything always works out, and then telling myself that sometimes things don't work out. i don't know what part of me is lying and what part is telling the truth. maybe both of them.

i'm sitting on my hands, and not going to financial aid, not figuring out my car situation, not talking to my family about important things. not doing, not doing, not doing. i wish i were just being. (when is it my turn to float down a river? i want to train my body to know that. i want to feel that sort of calm, that kind of adrenaline rush, that wash of peace.)

but i don't know. i don't know.

i just worry that i've lost my passion for this. i don't care as much about music as i did four years ago. i like writing songs. i like playing with my little band. but i don't know if i can do this as myself, if this is what should happen, if i will be happy here. i don't know if i want to stand up in front of people every week and ask for their attention with a song. i don't know if i can go through that constantly and call it a career. this is all probably just pre-graduation nerves, a quarter-life crisis. but they scare me, these doubts. what on earth am i supposed to do? barrel on through, i suppose.

(good things happen to good people, right?)



gonna tell him all i can.

it's so good to see good friends, so good to hear incredible stories, so good to eat bad-for-you food, so sad to see dreams fall apart like the seats of canoes.