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| 03:45am 02/07/2010 |
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"Rose-colored glasses are never made in bifocals because nobody wants to read the small print in dreams." |
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| 10:17pm 30/06/2010 |
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and what if there are no damsels in distress
what if I knew that and I called your bluff?
don't you think every kitten figures out how to get down
whether or not you ever show up? |
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| 06:00pm 09/03/2010 |
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Running, returning
On and on it goes
To a place
Where love begins to grow
And I am away
To where I've always been
I am the queen of indifference all the time, it seems. There are just so many things I don't care about that appear to weigh on others (such as my significant other) so heavily. It appears to trap them, while only caressing and sliding off me. I suppose caring would be the death of me |
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| 11:54am 16/02/2010 |
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I think I may be going insane
I don't want to write this poem for poetry class. I don't know how to write poetry. I'm not indirect, I'm blunt; when I am sad I say 'I AM SAD,' not "the air smells awry"
my bra is showing through this tank top which is accidentally see-through and by 'accidentally' I mean I accidentally didn't notice when I put it on. cool cool slutty at school!
the registrars' office keeps fucking up my schedule!!!!!!!111111
VDay was good, I got flowers the size of a manx cat an' had really rough sex
my house is fucking lame and smells like cat fart and passive-aggressive refrigerator behavior, I'm just tired of it
but whatever living with people comes with its share of problems any way you look at it.
"When she was a small girl, Amanda hid a ticking clock in an old rotten tree trunk. It drove woodpeckers crazy. Ignoring tasty bugs, they just about beat their brains out trying to get at the clock. Years later, Amanda used the woodpecker experiment as a model for understanding capitalism, Communism, Christianity and all other systems that traffic in future rewards rather than in present realities."
I need serious sedation but if I take the current drugz in my possession I will just pass out
being at school when all you wanna do is distract yourself from your problems rather than do work (papers) just, doesn't work. Well, it works, I'm just acting erratic and grumpy old man-ish and or unbalanced.
I spent like, 4 hours crying yesterday, that was cool
bye |
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| 08:57pm 13/02/2010 |
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too fast hot movement, my brain dreams of calm meadows, long shadows. Too much snow too long cold I feel like I'm stuck on an island of strange self-preservation, trying to keep it together while you're away repairing your mental health. I just keep saying "he went away he went away for a while" in my head. I hope the steady klonopin helps, but I'm not sure that it's doing much, and I'm scared for your neurologist appt. Real scared. Am always getting involved with those of delicate brain chemistry. You're one of the most thoughtful men I've ever met, maybe you're too thought-full, your head is overloaded with what you're mentally mapping and keeping track of.
I just wish this wasn't wearing me down the way it is. My head is achy, my eyes always ache like they're tired of seein things, and I keep asking, "when are you coming hooommmmeeeeeee." wah-wah sad worried, story of my life, always crying like a river dam bleak over SOMETHING. If not, then I'm manically excited, happy, and not posting here, haha. I'd be in the darkroom processing my brainbows+over-emotional feelings via photographic image instead, but the lab hours are all flummoxy with my schedule, currently. Wish I had 24-hour access. I want you better, now. Tempted to flounce out with a sarcastic "brb, going to go date the mailman instead now" but I know that what you need is support, not flippancy or mis-directed anger. I just dislike feeling powerless or attached to someone. I am so used to being independent.
I suppose though, if things were going fine, I'd be bored or scheming. La la |
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| 12:49am 20/01/2010 |
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“Ecological thinking, on the other hand, requires a kind of vision across boundaries. The epidermis of the skin is ecologically like a pond surface or a forest soil, not a shell as much as a delicate interpenetration. It reveals the self enobled and extended rather than threatened as part of the landscape and ecosystem, because the beauty and complexity of nature are continuous with ourselves” (Paul Shephard and Daniel McKinley – The Subversive Science) |
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| 12:18am 16/01/2010 |
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I feel weird and crazy and sad. I swear, moods are catching! I really want to throw myself off a cliff right now, but I think it's just manic and temporary. Oh well. Can't have it all. I'm either ecstatic or secretly gloomsville, I don't stay in the middle for more than a couple days. Blah! At least tomorrow's party will distract me. |
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| harmonicasssss |
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| 06:47pm 15/01/2010 |
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eek eek eekkkkkkkkkk I feel like my brain is all floaty, in dreamland. I blame pheromones and serotonin, he says I'm just oversexed. Today he picked me up, pushed me up against the film closets and threatened to "hang me like a negative." Hot photo nerd action, yep.
I promise to stop updating with cute things soon. I developed my film from maine, lotsa chickens inna chicken coop, snow, cabin-like abodes, no sun. Blurred moving feathers and chain link fence. I hope N gets back to me soon about my project proposal. His input is key, he is a key.
Pickling ginger is really easy! And fun. Did it the other day. I've been on a cooking/ baking/ weird medicinal shit kick. |
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| you know it's love when |
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| 12:01am 15/01/2010 |
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they tell you to use their tooth brush. romance= sharing plaque
I'm so tired and achy. Awake enough to be hungry, but too achy to go down in the kitchen and make something. Ooh, crossroads!
Looking up sparkly resin hearts (what's wrong with me?) on etsy and farting while I have the room to myself. aaaaaahahhahaha. And plotting what I'll wear tomorrow when he and I go to develop film. In the dark mind you, where he can't see me and is most likely just gonna try to take off my clothes.... so I don't know why I am wondering whether I should wear that pink scarf (kyle says it looks like a navajo sunset) or not, because it really does not matter. Rather, I think am trying to distract myself from the 6-12 papers I need to write to finish out this incomplete. My schedule for the rest of the week is sort of hilarious:
Tomorrow:
Develop film with boy, then maybe take a walk if it's nice outside. Then later, go hangout with L. L is a 45 yr old gay man that weighs 400 lbs and has a spider tattoo on the back of his bald head. He thinks we share a brain and are sisters. He is hilarious, and magical. He wants to play the ouija board and then drink mulled whiskey, eat fancy snacks. Sounds good to me.
Saturday: Dalis' birthday party at The Dig's office space. Picture a million drunken and or MIT hipsters. and like, 30 people I love to death. In an aweeeeesome space for a party.
Sunday: free! If I'm not too hungover, I'll probably do those papers.
Monday: Drinks and baking with my photo ladies. I suspect we will get sauced and wanna watch EZ Rider.
Tuesday: School starts. Aaaaahhhhh
That upcoming weekend: Driving to Maine with one of my favorites ladies ever, in my ford ranger truck! Lord, I hope we don't die. Maine adventure!!
eek! fun! eek! |
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| 01:46am 12/01/2010 |
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You're an exercise in self-control, a delicious reason to dress for (contemplating how I'll be undressed), a mystifying new endeavor in my week. Sometimes I feel like your sexual doll, with all your passion, and wonder if my payment is given in the meals you cook for me. Not trying to get ahead of myself, but well, I do wonder. I bought a new dress and I've been showering more. So lame. Soon I'll be like, actually cooking, not swearing, being ooey gooey and shit. Currently, my interests include holding you at arm's length and being a black hole of information, vague. I'm doing a pretty good job of being absent while keeping you compelled to get a hold of me, I think. I'd call myself sick but I know deep down I'm a therapeutic soul, someone much more interested in healing than causing harm or discomfort. I'm just trying to keep my own blues away and feel in control. Conversely, you're a a calming, healing influence on me. I feel safe. I have no faith though, it could be all over tomorrow and I wouldn't be....surprised.
One of Brit's cats has adopted me. It sleeps under my bed and will often jump up on the unmade covers and lay on top of me. I'm honored as it's an extremely skittish, traumatized-acting shy thing. I think it likes that I smell like a girl, and have lots of fur covered/ leather made boots under my bed. It definitely prefers women. I'm trying to teach it to allow itself to be picked up.
I've been writing more and I think I'm making progress with my writing habits, ridding myself of the sentence fragmentation I am so fond of. Granted, there's a reason it exists- it's representational of the way I think- and I'll probably preserve it to some extent as part of my preferred method of getting these things, my dirty, weird, and conflicted thoughts, out of me. |
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| you got the good in you |
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| 03:13am 30/12/2009 |
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I'm a dirty lover and a wayward friend, a total pillhead and drunk this vacation to boot. Snorting things is just so visceral and bad bad good.
All one night stands are trivial relationships to me, a sped up version of a relationship I'd have with that particular person- the relationship being nothingness, the terminal end to nothingness. If you love someone, don't fuck them, I often think to myself. Everytime I've had someone for a night, I've discovered later that they and I would not be compatible, OR, I knew it prior to having sex. Most of the time I've known or understood it, prior. Sometimes the unconscious understands things while the waking brain continues to refuse to see the truth.
Sex is such a currency more often than not, at least in my life; it complicates, suspends dynamics, draws out empty interactions that depend upon flirtation alluding....yes, sex is messy. Men fear women and don't understand them, women love too much, everyone wants different things and has different intentions- such devious conflict all around. "Love is a powertrip."
I dreamt of you in a series of rooms and mirrors and portals within a large old mansion converted into a series of living spaces, with dropping floors and levels...you were sleeping and as you dreamed in your own slumber you kept disappearing, and I would keep having to chase you, find you to where you had disappeared. You wouldn't wake up, were stuck in dream world coma, and there were a variety of environments and worlds we kept moving to. Like video game levels. Sorta like that greek story about two lovers, I vaguely remember it... one is in hell, the other gets the chance to retrieve them, bring them back to the world of the living, but they have to have the faith that the other one is behind them the whole way out of the depths, without looking back for reassurance. So the story goes, lover saving looks back to make sure the lover being saved is still there, causing lover being saved to disappear.
I think morphine's cousin (the drug I've had much of, ha) interrupts my subconscious, brings back repressed trauma, and changes my dreams with fractured, overactive deconstruction, a weaving of the old and new that is new to me. Essentially, it's been changing the very way I dream. I mean, dreams are always that deadly combination, but this is much more direct and hurting than ever, as if my brain is trying to force me to come to terms or deal with several things at once. There-a-py
I feel like I've written this entry a thousand times in different forms. I think my real real thoughts only actually get expressed in my physical journal or in my photographs or in my sketches. I don't like broadcasting them so literally. Or maybe I'm just getting dumber as I get older. Who even cares.
( Pull my daisy by kerouac ) |
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| Stranger and stranger things are happening |
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| 03:45pm 08/12/2009 |
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Flesh and blood and brokens bones am I
And I left that all behind in the diamond mines
What about all of the sound buried underground
Will we still feel the vibrations if it's never found
My blood is red when it flows from me
My blood turns blue when you're not with me
My blood is red when it runs through me
My blood runs true when your heart's with me |
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| 4 hours of sleep and vodka coming out of my pores even though I didn't drink that much. |
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| 06:03pm 03/12/2009 |
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Last night I did silly, fifteen yr old things. Went to a post-rock show, made out in a parking lot with the rain coming down, got hollered at. Made out in front of the middleeast, very publicly so....ooooh, you got me good.
At one point in the night, I got kicked out of the middleeast bar/restaurant area. It was ridiculous. I got legitimately cussed out and kicked out. Regardless, still managed to get the boy into the show, though he was without ticket, and get myself back in.
During the show, he pulled me by the hand to the front, later asked to kiss me. I said no. I love me. I am such a brat.
To sum it up: PDAs, drunken abandon of all sorts, reckless behavior, hilarity. youth! I wish you hadn't bitten me so hard, why don't you just give hickies like normal boys? I hope we do more bad things together, we have great chemistry, and I suspect you're good at a thing or two in the sack. You smelled really good, too... |
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| You get a Gold Star; I love you I must confess |
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| 04:10pm 01/12/2009 |
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"Don't ya worry it'll all come together like railroad tracks. Yr comin' west and you are two lovely things so no thing in sight to be worried over."
I wonder what those two things are...like,
"you're a woman and you have a brain" ? No way! ahaha. Or like, "you're cute, and I actually enjoy talking to you" ?
A heart and a head
A person and an art-maker
A writer and a picture-taker
A lady and an artist
A theorizer/ idea maker and a thinker
A friend and a lover
....who knows.
I am such a cynic. Nonetheless, I enjoy the message, and it gave me pause, which I always enjoy. Me with my big mouth, and fast movin' brain, I need to be stopped for a second. For seconds, even if it's just to take a moment to shred loving sentiment in analysis |
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| 11:25am 01/12/2009 |
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"True stories rely heavily upon the convenience of hindsight, and expectation and revisionism. Such stories are an insult to the intelligence. Fiction feel good and recanting causes stress. Like lying, in the physiological sense, the telling of a true story is an un-natural act."
-Richard Prince |
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| hey lloyd, I'm ready to be heartbroken |
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| 10:17pm 30/11/2009 |
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annoyed with the mail man; delivers mail arbitrarily, inconsistently
hate delta for not refunding my plane ticket (I needed to change my schedule)
hate that I have to appear in a court case, give testimony, because I got sexually harassed
annoyed that I have to write this research paper when I'd rather focus on building my website
wish my food stamps weren't taking so long to process
dislike the cold and the achyness I feel in my bones
the worry that everything is going to start to fall apart, leave me with nothing
but then, that's always the worry.
the fragility of things is something I'm all too well acquainted with. |
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| interesting |
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| 11:23am 22/11/2009 |
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On another note, man, my period has been so heavy it feels like I am exorcising something from my body. Gross, I know. I have so much work to do and really.....all I want to do is daydream and think about what to pack....major picture editing today....I feel very tired :( |
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| you are what you love and not what loves you back |
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| 09:32am 20/11/2009 |
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yesterday was a really stressful day, so I drank a carbomb (guinness, jameson, and baileys) and then later two shots of whiskey to take the edge off. if you ever wondered, whiskey and velveeta is a pretty decent meal.
Anyways I was a little drunk and text chatting hannah so I decided to text this boy I slept with a week or so ago.
I wrote, "Come over, I'm drunk and bored." Then about 20 seconds later I wrote, "Just kidding, I'm not that bored. Definitely that drunk though." Hannah thought it was a riot. If he were a nicer boy, I wouldn't have sent it, but he's not really a nice person at all. I mean, I slept with him 'cause I wanted to get laid, no bones about it, but you inevitably learn a bit about someone when you spend time in bed with them. He is not very kind. la di da
I bought my ticket to colorado, it's all set and tentatively planned! I love him; I feel like my heart is exploding love for him. The last letter he sent was so awesome and sweet. I love loving people, making them feel appreciated. I can't wait to go and show up with my big color photographs and hallucinogens and trash presents and my cameras so I can super-document everything. So excited, but it's just gonna be so hard to leave. I am basically agreeing to go be in love in a cabin in the woods for an undefined moment in time, and then leave. I wonder if I'll be able to do it. I wonder if he'll be able to do it- I know that missing me has been really hard on him. oh youth
thank god I have my period, so I know I'm not pregnant, but man I am in pain. I need some percoset or valium or something. |
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act_5's journal
