| stolen oatmeal |
[Jan. 16th, 2005|01:24 pm] |
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i miss these things that i let slip away, or worse, blatantly ran from. dirty coffee shop sitting, board games and card games, best friends, curly hair (red or yellow or brown), steep inclines, midnight escape, phoncalls ended in smiling through tears, raw green beans, storytelling, being followed, lies, band class, makeup, fences that could somehow hold my weight, manageable distances between garages, bikes, filling my pockets full of rocks, lemonade, disproportioned lips, dirty socks, warm rain, black boots, leaves, hair braids, bare feet, and airplane rides. |
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| secret place. |
[Jan. 5th, 2005|11:27 pm] |
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i can no longer see my car out the window in the dark and i fear it is not where i left it. and worse, i fear i have not left it where i thought i left it. but this is hardly my most profound worry. my cold feet, misplaced glasses, the underpart of my eyelid that has become increasingly visible as today progressed, the taste in my mouth, my missing automobile, the silent noises coming from the pouch of my sweatshirt, that fucking burn mark on the desk top that wont ever slip past me unnoticed, your quite intuitive and surprisingly direct statement; all tell me that something is not right. maybe it is all of those things by themselves. maybe it is me as the interpreter. maybe it is me as the actor. maybe it is the interaction of all three. maybe it is none of these things. maybe it is nothing at all. but it feels like something heavier than me. like a thunderstorm in january. something you can neither predict nor control. |
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| undergraduate psychology conference |
[Dec. 13th, 2004|01:22 pm] |
i am already dreaming.
someone who has an extensive knowledge of manipulating themselves into high security solitary emotional confinements should sneak inside and keep me company. |
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| rainbows are red yellow and blue. |
[Dec. 7th, 2004|05:40 pm] |
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there is a strange buzzing noise coming from the corner of my room and it reminds me of the strange buzzing in my head. or maybe they are the same thing, and it has now become disembodied. this could be relieving. today i wrote down on a yellow oblong post-it note all of things i wanted to say to my mother. and instead of saying them, i handed it to her and told her not to read it until i left. i felt like i was breaking up with someone in seventh grade biology class. it was almost as hard. i am not even sure if i took biology in seventh grade. i am not even sure if i ever took seventh grade. do you know if humans should occupy the highest tier in nature's hierarchical structure? fuck. |
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