Friday, April 30, 2010

edit yourself

strap me in
hello press enter
corrosive noises
latin in the palm
lying under blanket
suffering dynamic
shit i said
runs its course
track me down i
might not stay


descriptions silver and plain:

tumbly black weeds of clothing and
filthy frogs of book cover
shattering vise of phone
longitudinal intricate eloquent long white cord
holy shell of a blanket
perturbed computer
shellack of printer
grip tonged fan
sheltering peas of feather
noise of color of paint of number of white of black of


if you were a wall
what would you look like
here let me spill a little
fingers jutting into frigid
and sore swollen eyes
and ripple tool breath
whatever has happened
to the noise
of coming into being:
it stops, being in its place
are chins swallowing motions
place behind or in front
of eyes where everything
stops you say stop stop!
i have an outline
around me: edges of me
i cannot jump from
they wrap me up
stay two steps outside
of me; she plummets she
cannot purge these
frigid little
molten outlines they
underwhelm and
subtract her they
capture the breath use it
to draw infinity lines
in tangible black and white

when i'm feeling wretched i just imagine backwards

it's raining. yep. i'm sitting on my bed. yep yep. things in my mind; they make no sense. such a cliche, i am, such a such a. i am a total; i am in total; i am the one thing; la la la.
supposedly; the one remark i had to hold onto was: this one. uh huh he said: yes she said, i thought that too. and the two of them; and the three of them; oh and their memories, they all held hands and in the grass; and in the holes they were digging; yes the two of them, we thought we would make it to china! and one day; was thought--one day they thought, yes yes

hear a dog bark; hear a finger or two triple digits; hear a lil music spinning into this one ear; hear the time and it's jagged porpoise skin; hear hear and i hear what simply allows drip drop drip into my ear; i am a number, i am nothing but a simple number. what number complex real and allowable figure two pointed three and conversible and recharagable disposable retractable fraction division multiple and quotient, a beginning, a decimal, a square and a prime. only what is true can be traced back until it was nothing, nothing nothing

backwards thoughts; is who he i am nothing link hello girly fathom star jiggle yours train gift harry broom tank fifth vinegar teeth ruth yarn fun volcano

forwards is no fun

Thursday, April 29, 2010


hey world:

today was planned to be a really good day, and then of course it didn't turn out to be. i don't understand why stupid people have to go and ruin my life. oh well.

i have what i like to call the loneliness disease. i don't, i know, i'm not really lonely. i have so many friends and i have a great family who loves me. i do really well in school, bla bla bla, and all that jazz, so i know that there's nothing to cause it. so why do i feel this way, world, your guess is as good as mine. it's funny, but i thought college would be so different from how it is. i couldn't wait to get away from all the bullshit of high school and into somewhere where people might care about what you had to say even if you weren't in their social group, but i guess it's not really all that different.

take my english class for example: i sit in the front, but not because i care so much what the says, she's actually not that good, but because i can't see well. so now of course i'm labeled as a brown noser or someone who cares too much or whatnot. and so what if i care about what i get out of my education. i thought that was the point of coming to college. i thought we were all supposed to be mature enough to care.

and i can't help myself when she asks stupid questions and nobody answers, i'm going to answer, i'm not going to let her just sit up there like an idiot. i know she feels like one. i would too. i don't mind her really. i know some of the other people in the class can't stand her style of teaching because it's almost too laid back, but honestly that is what i came to college for. but all these little cliques formed behind and around me and i'm not going to be rude and talk over her, and plus i always come in early with my headphones on anyway, which people probably think makes me untouchable, but really i want to be in their conversations, sometimes i even respond in my head when i know what i would say, but i never say it out loud because i don't want them to think i'm creepy.

the class gets so incredibly boring. i just stare out the window. all my classes are like that. i thought they would be so much harder. maybe i should be in honors. i'm just afraid of the work load. my parents told me to take it easy because it's my first year, and i don't want to not have time to go out. but going out has turned out to be a totally different ballgame too. well, i was going to join a sorority until i discovered the girls in them are all dumb. so i nixed that idea. but i do have to join something. i wanted to join campus cru, and i still do, but the people in that, for some reason, are starting to creep me out. they all have the same "dead eyes" as that comedian calls them, which is ironic because they're supposed to be connected to God or some shit. I prefer just to worship by myself.

so now i've started going out with my roommate, emily. i used to like her, she seemed really cool at first, when now i figure out she's a coke head, which is just great. she's probably going to start bringing other cokeheads into my room. i already know i'm not going to do it but i don't want to be at the scene when illegal shit like that is going out. i mean drinking is one thing but coke is another. and i desperately want to talk to someone about it, but the only person i can think to call is my mother, sadly enough, and this isn't something i can really talk to her about, or if it is, i don't want to. i don't know why. not that she'd think i was doing it, i'm certain she wouldn't, but i just want to be able to handle it on my own.

and then there's this guy i really like. his name is actually fernando, he's from barcelona. he's really, really hot, and i think he might like me, well i'm not really sure, but he always looks and smiles at me and stands next to me whenever he gets a chance when i go to parties at his frat house. he's in KD. i don't really like the rest of the frat and i can't see why he's in it because he's so smart, but whatever, i want to get to know him better. i want to be his girlfriend, haha, but i don't say that. he still hasn't asked me out or tried to kiss me though, and i've been pretty drunk over there on several occasions this week alone. i dont understand what he's waiting for. i'm sending him all the signals. i even sat on his lap the other day. i hope i didn't make a fool of myself. i didn't feel like i did, but who knows.

so yeah. college is lonelier than i thought. it's worse with so many people around to be honest. sometimes i just take walks alone and it kinda calms me down; actually, studying calms me down more than anything. thank god for my calc class or i just might go insane.

i think i'm gonna clean a little. my coke head roommate is out for the night. i hope she finds some guy to bang and stays with him. i know that's horrible but she'd do that and i'm sick of her already. i dont think this is going to be a fun semester for the two of us. i have to find new friends, soon.

love and trouble,



those last few posts are in the pov of a character from a story. i'll prob do that for a lil while. that was sophie, this next one is allie (for now, i'll prob switch on and off but will label clearly)

makes me laugh

(clap hands)

(clap clap***)



Hallelujah, the earth is gone

the earth is gone the earth is gone

Hallelujah, the earth is gone

its gone


(Clap Your Hands)

buried beneath

buried beneath me several children wail. no one beings to know the noise of their voices. it fragments and shudders and carries itself in a hissing, steaming wind. when the world drops its course i am a dim sinking rock placated by dreams of waning. what is allowed to be beneath me: rulers of gaping eternity and shelters for ruinous corpses who've burned relocated massive heirarching negative saturns. what pours forth tangles in eyelashes: what names in a bedspread i hear i even see myself in the simple beginnings of it all: who goes hoarsely all in this mountain; a wish, a little coin dropped in a fountain; i see myself, my noise my trifling eyes, they sit a little longer; what nearest to me is the closet to bursting, what knows me is the farthest from carrying me away; what levels me is the least likely to grow, what talks me is the only ritual i have; how then do we know, the knowledge of truth quacks and i am lost; a mourning develops and i i i ; whatsoever this talking is about i have no prim identity with faith; the punctuation flatters me but really it knows that what is lost cannot be found find fringing forth from matter --- correct i assume that pieces of me fall delicately wind tokens or sky notes urchins of losing sweltering bodies cabling tree top insanity - a shelf a broom a label a torch

hi i am wandering wandering wandering
in the morning we are all linked: by fissures by cavities by death
hello this is the end she says she screams

okay maybe that is a little horror story esqe. what have i been reading?

once again i try: in the morning to relieve the toothy grin of smiling hemmorhage day

it wrangles with fish delivering words to the path of christ

well okay

six things enter my mind in no particular order they go off giving lessons

pretend that i am going to

pretend that i am going

once again i opened the box: the box it stands there and i lift open truth out of it it goes it goes

if i were a girl a little girl


if i were she

and she opened and she danced

well see it would begin in me

----- : : : :

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

lookin at shit thru my window


tryin to get into character for this story...

just lying down watchin the trees. for a split second watching all the leaves wiggle around i wanted to jump out my window into them!!!! am i insane? i watched for a while longer and then decided, no, i think i just want to be a leaf. i want to be a leaf and sit on a leaf hanging by a little piece of wood and just flutter and flurry with the wind not having to think, only having to move lightly and slowly and sometimes fast and brush up and down against other leaves waving little hellos to the world

Sunday, April 25, 2010


it's raining. quite nice. has a fresh smell.

things are bad...

but that is always true.

such boredom, day after day, how to get around, outside, underneath it...

i am not alive, or am i...

there are things in my room, little things, glaring at me. they stand up tall while i drift under the sheets like milk

la la la

i had a thought

or it had me

oh the sun! it comes piercing through hearts o steel

and yes, there is little sun

amidst fragrant waves

of motion, dreaming

rain echoes

off itself

came to itself

there is

but one

way to live

on this earth

and that is

as a flower.

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Jupiter picture

Oh Jupiter - mouth of love
spread wide spit tangled red remission
alone fathomed out there wonder
a cape a leg a frog
an upside down waterfall
trees giving birth
a lake a tree-stealing
feeling you are
in a little girl's palm
in a porcelain bathroom
where white means to forgive
and red, to hold tightly.


you get lost in mirrors
what is that noise
that light in the corner
it reminds me of
a little person
a little person gesturing
i think
and oh
in my dreams
all these people they say
they say things it is cute it is fun
dreams they provide me
some narrative some structure
and i read and reread
and i reread
each of my words, my words
trying to
well lets see
let's slow
just down
i try and try
with the words
ahem, cough, gulp
the words the words
here they go and up
and down the page
yes they have
their own little clicking
feasting and waiting
to be read to be
i can read i can read
and oh
the branch
in the window!
it is like a little man
waving to me it is like
god just now said hello
but it is a jumping
fear in my chest
and i type words
they come they come
out of me out of
things and light
the most boring
day is the one
you touch but you cannot
begin to feel--see that is why
you reread words
you have to find
to go to find sound
to begin meticulous
to understand
a backbone a sufficient
energy of out of you
curving thought and nascent
being you i guess
the wave branching
or other way
around the day
the light tracking
skin well i guess
words they sound
as empty as anything else
and that is why i keep
i keep i keep
reading them
where am i in them
i wonder where is
an answer a miracle

some poems

i have starred
once, in my childhood, as
the bird that does not sing, and
the rock whose weight
is felt
only by itself
and the ground it pushes
into. i have counted
days, trees, anything
waiting for the day
when I was allowed to
breathe, breathe
though i didn't know
what stopped me: all i knew
was that i can't have myself
and everything else at the same time
now i know
it doesn't matter, you don't have to have
anything and it doesn't have to
be yours, and isn't.
Even love
isn't yours, loves belongs
to the world
and I am here
only to keep it circulating.


Stop! Oh, the
of it.

Supposing the world
supposes I am
here. Oh, the world
supposing I am here.

Lump of me.
Oxygen battlefie.d
Cropped home.

All of it
leads back to me,
I think.
All of it
thinks, hears, feels
is full
is total.

Sight of

Sand shifts.

exposes no

The fragile
length between
myself and my
self runs
away with me.


Long parenthetical
marks deplete me--
a drip, a running
tail of language
oxygen-free, allowed
to the beginning
to the first
notion of time.


Course, dependable daylight
sinks nose down
into me.


You are wrong
to think man
cannot expose

He breathes a wire
film, shares thickly
the sink of his
modern beginning.

The Way The Light Finds Me

Count to ten,
Take a step,
a deep breath.

Run your voice
through the air
listen to leaves
shake out
their own voices.

I have to find me.

Light creeps
around me, slowly.


new poem:

does not have knowledge
of the sun
but moves through and about
from it, enacting
color and performing
day and time
a morning, a silver
beginning, could be
diseased, could be
could be
who remains
underneath broken pieces
of light
light that runs trails
light that shudders
and quivers and
furtively touches
of knowledge,
light ruminates
and we listen
but nothing ever
speaks, it is only ourselves
our voices offering
plaintive answers
when nothing has
ever been asked of us

Friday, April 23, 2010

a haiku

Stands watching the rain
and pretends she understands
other than herself.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

crappiest day ever

welcome to the world's most depressing blog, sorry folks. had a shit day but i will write about the high points

well i was at a farmers market. i knew i didnt want to go but i gave in anyway and went. why? because i like colors, simply. and at farmers markets there are always lots of interesting and new colors.

so i walk up and i have to strategically avoid a few tables with old men at them who stare at me, not because i am drenched in my own sweat and wearing close to nothing, but because i carry my little black wristlet. i stop to smell a soap and then try to move on, but i've already made my mistake and the owners of the soaps rushes over and starts talking all over me about this soap and that i decide to be completely honest, half because i want to, half to put him off, about which soaps i think smell like shit, and half of them he has me smell do. like all the incense crappy ones. i hate that smell. that is why i almost didnt go to the farmers market to begin with. he shows me a few that i really do like, and when he tells me they're six bucks i'm thinking yeah okay, but the cherry blossom one was really, really nice.

then i go to a granola table because i see she is giving out samples. i wait and wait and finally she gives me a sample, and it tastes like a butter cookie, so delicious, and i let her give me the big schpiel and i act interested but really i just want to ask her the price, and it's seven bucks and i'm like hell no lady but i smile kindly and walk away.

then i go to buy some bread or first look at it. i have just ran five miles so bread is looking pretty tasty. this guy is tall and grayish with a bristly beard and grayish bristly eyes and i dont get a great look at him because he intimidates me from all over; i think he has his hands in his pockets, he is acting all casual but its the way those people look at you that you know they are trying to ensare you and it makes me feel uncomfortable. i pick up some bread and comment on how heavy it is and how good it looks, and i guess this is my mistake, nobody understands why you should not buy anything you see, of course i have the money to buy a measly loaf of bread for five bucks, it probably will be the best i've had in a while, so i find a really teeny loaf and say i'll take this one, and it's a buck, and he shows me another whole wheat with flax that's two bucks and i say give me that and he says oh with the other? and i say no just that one and he's all aggravated and i feel both smug and horrible for denying him that dollar.

then i buy some bibb lettuce which tastes actually a little too velvety for my tastes, and some of the best fucking tomatoes i've ever had, none of those seeds in the middle which are green and look like snot, it's all meat, they are bright red and delicious with some salt. and i almost buy some cheese but i don't. i just help myself to a few, four, samples and scamper away while the dude is distracted by another customer.

a half an hour decently well spent i'd say.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

this is a bitch whine vent

nothing to do, so i'll keep posting.

writers and publishers are crap. i dont like being a writer. all you care about is that somebody gives a shit that you're writing and what you're writing but you'll never ever get this, most likely. i should be writing for myself like salinger did at the end of his life, but i can't now, bc i'm in stupid grad school and we're bred to think that the only judge our value for our words are if some lit mag says they are good. i dont know those people, i dont trust any of their aesthetics, i only trust my own, is why i'm a writer. i konw some of the shit i wrote already is the best i'll probably ever write and i shouldnt care that nobody cares but i do, becuase i'm a fucking writer. now if i were something else, i woudl not care. if i were not in grad school, i would probably care less. i would be out helping people rather than thinking my words alone are worth more than peoples lives. because that is essentially what we're saying; i could be out physically helping bodies instead i write happy little snappy or sad emotions and hope they make someone feel something. sure they are good for the "soul" people say. my students write about souls all the time and it is the most cliche bunch of bullshit. nobody knows what or if a soul exists. why dont you leave that up to god if there is one.

and yep still im going to write. if i dont i will feel myself dying inside. but is a selfish way to live and i dont like it. and i dont want to be a narcissistic asshole but i am one anyway, by virtue of the fact that i'm writing about myself, even if it's not about me, it always is.

counterargument: writers are unselfish collecters and passers on and interpreters of societies deepest symbols it needs for the soul to move on and grow and survive and understand itself...

exactly the thing we tell ourselves to make ourselves feel so much better than anyone else. what about the man who comes and unplugs the shit from my toilet? he makes sure i can go to the bathroom and it passes cleanly through the pipes. give me one good reason why what i do is better for humanity than this guy, and i dont think you can.

writers are full of shit and i am one. hmmm


yes i'm posting again wow so many words out of me recently... i am just bored and just woke up and need a quick distraction and it's too early to take a shot of vodka. so instead i'm waiting for my clothes to dry so i can go to the gym. and after that i will grade papers. and after that.?? maybe go for a walk. the weather is lovely this time of year in tallahassee warm and crisp like a honey crisp apple. i love apples.

my room is an absolute shithole, yes, i step over some of my nicest dresses as I make my way to the bathroom, no i do not care, they are just clothes. i need new clothes but i dont really like clothes. they make me a greedier and vainer person so i don't like them. however it's fun to look at the colors and shapes and cuts and whatnot but in terms of what i can afford, it's none of the fun stuff. which reminds me i have to check out lauren conrad's line in khols. but even khols is expensive.

things are happening in my life right now, things are changing. it's quite scary and i'm sure at any moment this huge gaping black hole earthquake is going to open up beneath me and i will fall fall fall... hopefully that doesn't happen, but it's the fear. i always feel unsteady unstable and this is just me. i wonder if it will ever change.

but when i work out i feel powerful and in control and i love it. and i love to eat. and i love laughing and making jokes. i love people. i love the sky. there are lots of things i love, almost as much as things i fear.

i wonder if love and fear are connected. it seems fear and hate are and i think hate and love are sorta connected, maybe in the same way anxiety and depression are, the separate sides of the same coin or some bullshit like that. here is me just spouting off theories, it's not supposed to be correct, it's supposed to be fun, don't take it too seriously. it is hard to love something you are afraid of, that is all i can come up with for now.

it's sunday; someone made a really good joke about sundays always sucking because they are spent anticipating the whole goddamn week, and i think that's only partially true. ps i dug out an old cd that i love; it is full of get up kids and old jimmy eat world and lotsa other cool crap and i can't stop listening to it. i remember being in like eighth grade and loving that shit. and so because i listened to it i had the most wacked out dreams last night. so crazy and vivid and full of interlocking or just overlapping narratives. in one i was on a vacation with some people and we were listening to this guy talk to us about science... right down the sand was a bar where people were going at noon to get drunk for the rest of the day... i was more concerned with finding lunch... i ate two bowls of a really delish mac and cheese... then i went into my room and shoved some stuffed animals into a suitcase and called my mom crying bc i said i hated it there.. (reminds me a lot of now haha) and then after that we watched another video and a boy was like fondling my sides...?? waist area. this boy was a boy i dated when i was in fifth grade. very very strange.

the second part of the dream involved me being on a boat of something in a big room that was filling up with water... actually it started out as a classroom, first i was teaching and then i was the student.. but some big crisis happened and it turned into like a water world and then my roommate was there and i got some notice that said i was her only family and had to take care of her? and then we were on a train and she was very sad and I was trying to make her feel better bc she had no family.. and i swear it had this like war time feel to it very gray and depressing....

and then i was at this rally and i shook obamas hand. and my dad was there and he made some rude comment about why would i shake his hand only it wasn't that overt it was like something else, referring to his clothing? no clue. and then i woke up tired as fuck and made myself a bowl of cereal and went back to bed for a dreamless one hour sleep.

Saturday, April 17, 2010


just woke up. it's not even super early but it feelz it. i am awake. awake awake.

had a party last night. twas chillin. we had cornhole. it is a dirty vulgar sexual game. involving bean bags.

and we had lotsa southern food. i stuffed my fat face. was quite pleasurable.

it is too early for real sentences. FUCK YOU PHONE ALARM SILENCE!!!

things i miss right now:

my old lifeguarding job. the smell of chlorine in the morning. little kiddies asking me to watch them swim the deep end test. god my hearts about to burst.

and... well i just had a memory that is about it.

things i don't miss: my current situation. bc it's crap to the nth power. oh well. gotta finish the damn degree.

wanna write wanna write wanna write wanna wanna wanna

i wish i knew more spanish. this is the beauty and ugliness of life: you get to know about all the lovely things you could do and then not do them. you know how capable you are and then you get to promptly put knowledge of that away and do something else. you know what you love and then you say see ya!

maybe this is depressing. i love florida for it's regionality. and not making sense. for it's rugged wholeness. for its. ... ability to cross section any mood i am having and make me feel like a little kid again. florida is this thing i can't reach out to and it makes me feel small small small. i guess when i leave florida i will miss it too.