i've got good feelings about 2011.
..which perversely means, it will likely be wretched.

i have the most horrid headache.

i don't understand why these debilitating things keep consuming me lately. used to only get them on very rare occasions, and when i did, they were hardly near the extent of this.
forgot to eat today and haven't been able to sleep, so that could be a contributing factor. but for some reason i cannot even think about food without nausea slipping through my veins.



i saw "howl" tonight with anne and alonso. i'm a bit bummed, to be completely honest. the cartoon segments were totally unnecessary and utterly distracting and slightly sickening. but i loved the hazy blue smoke filled rooms during the interview segments. they did a good job at making it look old and somewhat grimy. ...it's just...i can't shake those cartoon segments. oh well. i'm glad i got to see it.



on another unrelated note, it's patti's birthday!!! i love that lady. so to make this somewhat related, i'll attach a photo of her with allen. perfect, right? and so adorable, too!

















it will be 2011 soon and hopefully by then this headache will have subsided.
goodnight, xo.

there's something thrilling about pricking my finger unpredictably.
a single beguiling drip of blood suddenly emerging from the trembling tip.

it was only an accident.

i know we're both dreamers.
and i know that's all i need to know.

i'm developing an odd obsession for a-frame houses.

i've been awake for about three hours now. already had my first cup of tea. not in the mood for coffee. don't know why. zora (my cat) woke me up, as usual. she has developed the notion that i must be conscious in order to snuggle. i can't get upset, though. she's too endearing. anyways, i had a bizarre dream. it was all over the place. it went from horses, to fragile white boats on dark emerald waters, to knitting (the needles were really neat, though), to dreaming semi-lucidly just to see if i would be able to get out of a yacht if i were ever rich and in one alone that began sinking. i got out. i had to break the window. the water was cold. but i woke up to kitten nudges before i could ever reach the surface. so who knows, maybe i did drown. i feel like a part of me withers and dies every time i wake up anyways. subtly. delicately. eternally drifting in those bleak waters. eyes like cursed pearls.
i hope it rains today.

black swan was inexplicably good.
currently cuddled in quilts, reading whitman and crying.

i should get some sleep.

highlight o' the day: mother "mewing" like an infant cat to insist that it was, indeed, an applicable scrabble word.

guess i'll just have to learn to become fond of these elephants.

pauvre bébé.

there is a shard of broken coffee cup on the wooden floor next to my bed. it's small and green with brown speckles. sharp, too. i thought about picking it up. i still remember it's there, so i'm cautious lately. but, i i'll step on it eventually. probably after waking from some bad dream and can't sleep. i'd be getting up to brew some coffee or tea. then step on it, suddenly, just like that. and then, throbbing, i'd forget all about any nightmares. fall asleep unbandaged on bloodied sheets, sweetly. sort of crooked and smiling.

1:46 a.m., i've been awake for too long. every time i look at a wall, or something somewhat stationary, it starts bulging and moving in all sorts of contorted ways that it's not supposed to. frightful and fitting for the way my brain is feeling. sickish, so lost and hesitant. hallucinating manically. i'll find my way, somehow. start by tracing these flimsy steps. or something.
i've been waiting for the murky sea to breath deep and erase them all. disorient memory beyond recall. don't know what's taking so long. wish i could be a rootless vagabond. and forget you, casually.

every time i hear the word "disgruntled" i think of a stomach growling.

wish i had the guts to watch the clouds wallow back to where they once were. but for now i'll keep scrying into muddy eddies, fumbling back on themselves. like my breath when it wants to tell you how beautiful i think you are.

haven't ceased shakin'

get this:
late tonight/early tomorrow morning there is going to be a lunar eclipse.
this, and the full moon, just so happen to coincide with the winter solstice (extremely rare occurrence!)
additionally, there may also be a meteor shower during the eclipse.

FREAKING. OUT.
and hoping the clouds clear.

oh, how i wish i had a vast collection of moo moo dresses.
and quilts, would be lovely, as well.

in other non-entertaining news, i've grown rather weary of this hair of mine.
not too sure if i want to keep growing it out.
i almost chopped it all off today. almost.
but i still haven't decided whether or not i'm going to get dreads.
if only i weren't so indecisive...

this, hilariously, is what i looked like today--such a mess. hair 3/4ths up and no makeup. horrid. just horrid.

merwwwwwow.

all these floppy words fumbling from obscurities. gargle and spit. watching as cerebration slops out of the pen. syrupy slew. discarded mind gulps perpetually leaking onto tattered pages. where's the plumber? dear gumption, you are lacking.

i was walking. i don't know where, exactly. some wild empty desert land, two men talking lethargically on broken wooden patio steps painted halfway, then forgotten. brown leather boots and white button shirts. eating out of translucent tupperware food buckets and taking heavy swigs from brown bottles made of shiny glass that a small child would step on five years later. i muffled them out. stepping over rusted barbed-wire and long leftover scraps of renovation. feet bare and vulnerable. the sand was sturdy. then reading my mind, it swallowed me. i must've been further than six feet under. still breathing. sand sliding into lungs now. reaching. but not screaming. it didn't take me though, and i don't know why. my fingers clutched a sunken branch. i could use it to get out. but waited. not breathing. then crawled to the surface, just like that. without even thinking. exhumed. wind blowing in my hair again and sun kissing my sprinkled salty earth flesh, disgusting. those men are still speaking. about women and how they've grown tired of "always having the same ol' tuna casserole for lunch." i must've not been buried long enough. keep walking.

"you're a tormented little artist."--dad

sitting in attics watching dust, gold and glowing glitter-like dust billowing inside rotten peach houses against puffy plum skies. carrying satchels stuffed with clumsy memories. glitter dust leaches, falling. still gold. flying. sinking. back into skin, again. and lungs. memory. running in loop-de-loops and upside-down crosses on burning streets. sun scorching corneas and bare toes. moon drooping in now. easily. but suddenly. somehow humble. though, spilling spells out of craters and into half-melted vanilla milkshakes. eat 'em up. swoon too soon. mistakenly falling against unknown street poles. knocking bewildered minds into slumber, so deep. body sinks. with the lazy roots, now. gone. rotting into eternity, once again. as only closed lashes, latched, could know.

i tried to listen to her thoughts, but they were all empty--only filled with dreams.

i had a dream about joanna newsom.
she gave me her autograph and wrote me sweet letters signed with x's and o's.
later, when i was home again, there were two tornadoes in the desolate distance. lurking toward me. the sky and the storm where in black and white like an old film from the 40s. everything else was normal--but dimly lit and glazed in a deep yellow hue. all i did, all i could think to do, was hurriedly fold up the autograph and letters and put them deep within my pockets. i took some photographs of the storm, and went to sleep knowing that when they found me battered and dead, they'd find her too. then all the obituaries would write about how i loved her too much, a "bedraggled ghost of a sonnet."

people say "love is god,"
but i think love is the devil.
burying itself so deep under oblivious flesh,
you'd have to have an exorcism to get it out.

i love little things that happen like that in grocery stores after work on the cereal aisle.

in the bathtub, palish white, scalding water taunts the brim. the submerged flesh cannot distinguish between extremities of hot or cold. seeping in every pour like quick needles, it hurts so lovingly. head drooping to one side. fingertips and toes wilting like the roses in your neighbors garden you tried so desperately to water with your secrets as a child. you can feel the weight of each exhale pour out of your tired lungs. the breath, is the heavy one as your body mimics an ownerless feather. perhaps from a crow. or cardinal. maybe a meadowlark, skylark, albatross? it's hard to say.

worn through.

thus far today has consisted of immense frustration, unfortunate events, a newly acquired foul mouth, and profuse bleeding which has yet to cease.

unsettled.
(and on top of it all, i've grown ill)

"but i fell for ya, honey, as easy as fallin' asleep."

hush, hush, hush. turn the fan on (or the heater) and slip half your body under the woven and stuffed sheets. and now it's not your father, but the night that is snoring fortissimo these days. keeping you from sleep. and maybe it's better that way. considering lately you've been nothing but a figmented dream cinema. so detached, darlin'. but (unlike the others) you know "detached" also means "free," "unbound," and "extricated." listless, again, you will your eyes into slumber, slumber, slumber.

panic.

new photograph/memory is up. which you can view here.

today was dreadful.

though after work i went with a friend to lucky burger where we both indulged a veggie one.

such an adorable little place. however, it makes no sense. the building is in the shape of a barrel or keg of sorts. it's painted blue with red and yellow writing on it which read "Lucky Burger" and then embellished with tawdry stars. on the inside there are ceramic sea creatures along the boarder of one wall, a poster of bottles on another, a chinese calendar by the register, and lots of other works of art that do not at all coincide.

so cute. if you live in houston, i suggest it.

i've been staring at the moon ever since i got back. and will likely continue to do so for the remainder of the night.

so long.

i wonder what felicitous fallacies will premier beneath these heavy eyes tonight...
off to morph into a dream factory,
xo.

my papa bear is in the hospital.
..i can't even type about this.

i love you, daddy.
i would give you my heart, but i'm afraid it's just as lousy.

future goal: learn how to quilt.

does anyone want to join me?
we can mail each other and sew pieces.
if you live close we can have quilting day get togethers and watch movies/drink coffee.
it would be fun.
just sayin'..

you've gotten so far under my skin that i cannot even stand my own flesh.

i'm so upset!
vija celmins is going to be giving a talk at the menil on friday.
and i can't go because i have to work.
ughhhhhh. not okay.

i feel it in my bones. i'm ready to move. not to a new apartment, or city--though that'd be nice, too--but rather metaphorically speaking, i'm ready to move on. sometimes i think i've let go too much. or too easily. i've grown rather good at it. don't get me wrong, i have got a heavy heart, but that's only because i know how to use it. just like an old tattered suitcase, i know how to tuck things away in there. it's grown weighty throughout all these years. sometimes it gets hard to breathe. i bet when i'm old i'll have scoliosis due to it's constant tugging. my thumb is red, not green. i garden often under this skin of mine. when i'm sad or bored, i start plucking out all of these roots you have left, and sometimes i accidentally pull a vein and it tugs at my heart. or sometimes it jerks a memory. but i'm pulling them all out. i've almost finished. i did a lot of gardening tonight. there are a few weeds i'll have to get in the morning or in my sleep. i daydream too much these days, that's when they all come back. now i've got these fresh roots attaching. casually finding their way into the marrow.

i honestly can't listen to her without crying.
joanna newsom is the personification of my heart.

they always say “hold on tight!”
though, i’d rather hold on loosely.

no matter whether it’s
inner tubes, subway railings,
or hearts.

oh man, i've been having the best dreams.
wish i had time to write them down.
but i must get ready for school where they will all fleet my memory.

don't know how i've managed to obtain such lousy circulation.
i'm currently sitting in front of my heater, drinking a cup of coffee, while wearing a sweater, two comforters, and a cat....though somehow i'm still cold?

this post is pointless.
so i might as well add that i've got a killer craving for some dried apricots.

i feel as though i've been drugged.
i need to write the most immense blog entry currently, but cannot because my father won't let me and everything is still unsure.

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO MY SCHOOLWORK WITH THESE ANTICIPATIONS?!
bloody hell.
the mere thoughts of this potentiality is intoxicating.

everything's all tangled up, honey darlin'.

it wasn't supposed to happen this way.

the joanna newsom concert was cancelled due to "soft ticket sales."
i don't think i've ever felt so deplete in my entire existence.

currently in mourning.

wake up and the mirror acquaints you
to two tiny zigzag scratches on your forehead and
three frail twisted lines along your porcelain shoulder blades.
they're already scabbed over, laced in pink flesh.
muscles ache and are tightly knotted.
you can't remember your own dreams.
and there, on the window seal, sit six eyelashes,
stationary and offering no sparkle in the stale sun of morning.

and tomorrow when your slicing apples, or your finger,
you'll remember
the heap of images that rested heavy beneath the
unforgiving skin which shield your weary eyes.

wish the rothko chapel were open 24/7.
i need to go sit in there for a few days.

finally.

i wonder if you've ever considered it.

this is how my brain feels currently.

also, my hair is sluggishly reaching a desired length.

goodness, i need sleep and a dependable heart.

all i want to do is stay home and watch harlod and maude while sitting in front of my space heater wearing an extensively over-sized sweater with my cat and a cup of hot coffee.


...contrarily, i'll be working to my wits end and schooling/working all day.
make that all week.
or the rest of the year.
or the next eight or so years.

cacoethes [ˌkækəʊˈiːθiːz] noun:
1. an irrational but irresistible motive for a belief or action
2. a chronic and overwhelming desire

heart is fumbling
under secondhand sheets and clothes that have grown worn and loose
pushing tacks in the wall
closing weary eyes

eyelids are like hexes
when they drop
cautionary tape won't halt them in the least
taunting and relentless in their unforgiving desires,
in their visions of what can never be
will never be

bottom lips bite as the word perishes from mouths
"never"
stinging and unkind in its parting
just like "love"

though love necessitates a deeper sting,
a heavy heart,
teeth that aren't frail,
and twenty-nine tissue boxes
(give or take)

new favorite thing:
singing macy gray's "sweet baby" to zora.

cutest thing ever.
she grabs my hand with her paw, and pulls it close to her endearing little face, and purrs, and then love nudges abound.

held the most beautiful snake in the cosmos today.
it's charlie's (my co-worker) purple albino reticulated python.

took a few photos with my phone..

charlie holding said snake:

























and me:

list of material wishes:
-functional typewriter.
-a bookshelf that allows for greater expansion.

i prefer my life daydreamt.

i've acquired new possessions that i'm quite fond of.


first item:
vintage map of earth's moon from 1969. it's rather large and measures 42"x27 1/2". it is topographical and shows the near and far side of the moon, plus rotation, tides, and lots of other interesting information.



















second item:
vintage framed print, circa 1900-1949. shows a lady moon gazing, seaside. the back reads "ALONE"
the print itself is a 6x4, thus very intimate and tiny.

dreadful tuesdays.
at least the sky has a belly full of thunderclouds.

today my painting professor wanted to pay me for the painting i let her have.
i quickly informed her that i would accept no amount of money. at all. end of story.
she hung it up in the painting departments office and told me that everybody has grown fond of it and i would now be immortal.
thing is, it’s such a crappy painting. honest, i’m not just saying that.
that's why i let her have it. i usually keep all of my work, no matter how horrid. but i figured she'd get more enjoyment out of it than having it sit in my closet for decades.
i do find it humorous, though.
the project was extensive, but basically it entailed choosing an artist and a toy and then using said artist’s work to make your own with the toy. there were three paintings due and the first was to replicate as closely as possible a piece by your artist (while still adding the toy).
i ended up with the combination of alice neel and a pencil sharpener.
my professor sent me a photo of it that she took with her cell phone,
so here are the two juxtaposed (the painting is modeled after neel's soyer brothers):

my head is clouded in fogs of nonsensical air. so i'm writing instead of doing my schoolwork.
...which i may or may not regret by tomorrow. i've reached the point of not caring so much, ya know?




when the feathers of your eyelids shut
and your mouth is running out

of words to play,
make sure there are eleven
pillows on your bed in november
and the doors are tightly shut with

paintings and tattered woven tapestries
wound and sprinkled in dilapidated dust from

memory’s attic
clutching the smell of year 1901
with chipped red polish,

unkempt on your lukewarm fingernails
complemented by tips the colors of rotten milk
and leftover fragments of yesterday still

wedged underneath.

i wake up extra early on halloween like it's christmas morning and i'm six years old.

favorite day o' the year.
time to crank up the screamin' jay!

once again, today a customer asked me if i was dressed in halloween garb.
i informed them that this was my normal attire and they said that i looked lovely.
so sweet. (yet, still awkward. )

i also held a rosy boa snake that my co-worker brought in.
it was darling.

then i howled along to joanna newsom on the ride home.

and now i'm endeavoring on some school work and preparing for tomorrow.

CAN'T WAIT FOR HALLOWEEN.

things that happened at work today:

1. i was asked by about five customers if i was dressed up as a gypsy because of halloween. which induced laughter each time. and my response being, "well, no, this is how i normally dress.."
awwwkwarddddd.
but undeniably funny. i love halloween.

2. "you smell like my psychic."--lady i was helping.

dreamt of you, again.

new song up.
the sound was off so i put one of the few pre-made layers from windows movie maker and a photo over it in hopes of concealing that a bit. it also cuts off at the end. oh well. i just really don't feel like redoing it all.

lyrics:
you say you're a traveler
who only treks by moonlight
wanderin' free
don't need no human beings

you don't listen to nobody
but you listen to the blues
others give suggestions
but you profusely refuse, refuse, refuse

your black shoes are worn and gray now
your heart is all beat up
eyelids slowly sinking
can't stop the merciless sun

you think you're so tough,
but you're nowhere near tough enough
'cause everything wanes, darlin'
even love and all that stuff,
even love and all that stuff,
even love and all that stuff

everything wanes, darlin'

so baffled because i am perpetually being told that i'm intimidating.
i cannot even begin to grasp this obscurity!
i've got to be the least intimidating human entity on the planet.
-i'm never mean.
-i smile back, even if you're a stranger
-sometimes i smile at strangers
-i'll help you if you have any questions with school work
-i could attempt to help you with questions concerning life
-i will define vocabulary words for you
-i will give you a list of good films, music, books etc
-i'm very patient
-i'll listen to your ranting and provide consolation.
-i'm likely shorter than you
-perhaps younger, as well
-i'll laugh, genuinely, at your worst jokes
-i do have the best feline in the cosmos, but you probably haven't met her.
-i'm pigeon toed (meaning, my feet point inward)...that should eliminate my intimidation all on its own.

...i just don't get it.
i mean, i'm quiet a lot of the time..but that shouldn't be intimidating either.
nonetheless, i receive this comment about every two weeks or so.

why am i intimidating?
and how do i correct this?

i'm currently considering an extensive train expedition.
sounds real nice right about now.

you're a figment not of my imagination, but rather my brainless heart.
so foolish and witless and iced in unattainable desires.
it's as easy as playing dolls.
and just as fragile.



wish i were not monitoring the lab
so i could resort to my semi-comfortable bed.

wanting to say goodnight,
xo.

dreamcatcher.


i'm going to make a bedtime mix.
perhaps i'll post it.

dear little black notebook with thick manila pages,
you will be my new confidant.
i'll take you everywhere and write until the pages become frail and begin falling out.

xo.

word to the wise: do not buy toilet paper from cvs.
i did not want to stop at the creepy kroger (seriously the most disturbing place ever, especially in these hours of the night/early morning),
therefore, i concluded that i would just stop at the cvs near my apartment on the way home from the lab.
so i walk in there, determined. i knew what i needed and i had a game plan.
said hello to the sales clerk and avidly marched to proper isle.
get there... all right, feelin' good...
...see the price. WHHHHHAAATTT?!
FOURTEEN DOLLARS for a freaking pack of toilet paper...um, i don't think so.
but i desperately did not want to go to krogers. so i settled on a single cvs brand roll for $1.24. which doesn't sound too bad until it is noted that i could've gotten a pack of four for that price from kroger.
i'm such a cheapo.
but fourteen dollars? no sir.


oh well.
i just got home. such a long day.
i'm going to snuggle up with zora for a few hours and then start working on things again, i suppose.
longing for the life when this is all over.
all i really want to do is carve some jackolanterns and watch scary movies.
i guess that's too much to ask...

in desperate need of a thunderstorm.


i didn't get home until around 2:10 a.m. last night.
that's after working all day at my job, and then going to the lab.
the fine arts building's water is going to be conveniently cut off all day sunday.
a.k.a. the only day out of the entire week that i'm able to go up there. figures.
i've unfortunately grown used to these things happening. at least the moon was full.
so i'm now having to go after i get off my draining job and proceed to work in almost complete darkness for the entirety of the night.
go home, shower, get about two hours of sleep, and get up to go to work all day, then leave for the lab again until the morning.

i'm seriously considering taking a semester off.
every single person i speak with re-informs me that i'm quite insane.
but if i do that--everything else would be screwed up since i'm about to go up for block and all.


conflicted and energy deplete.
here commences another dismal day....

i always seem to dream of you on full moons.
not daydreams, actual sleep induced dreaming.
and it's odd because i don't think of you as often as i used to. and the dreams are always so simple. it's perfect.
i was a bit older. you were the same.
i had a house of my own, dimly lit and all.
it was the evening or early morning, not sure which.
i walked into the kitchen and saw a counter piled with your things that you had forgotten or lost.
there were piles of letters in yellow envelopes. but they were all organized..which i found odd of you. but i guess they must've been things you held really dear.
one of the envelopes was stuffed with orange lighters. no note or anything. just lighters. i remember the name on the package, she was a close friend of yours. i suppose it was some sort of inside joke, and smiled crookedly.
there were tons of others all tucked neatly inside clear packages so that they wouldn't get damaged. i didn't look at them. or even read the names on the envelopes. i wouldn't have been jealous, per-say, i'm just not that type typically. and i would say it was to honor your privacy, and though it was in part that--i think i just didn't want to be envious of those relationships. and how wonderful they were.
i found another lighter, and when stroked the flame would alter colors. i sat down on the kitchen floor and just watched it for a couple of minutes. thinking. flicking it on and off.
stood up and put it back, then walked down the hallway, head down, arms tucked across my stomach. watching my feet. not sad. just thinking.
i passed the guest bedroom and tilted my head up because the light was on. you were laying on the bed with red sheets. black dress. hair up. reading.
it was most likely morning, because my hair (much longer) was a mess and make-up a bit smeared and only sporting a large t-shirt. seemed like you had been up all night, though perfectly content.
you smiled and just said "hey," like you've always lived there.
so i just assumed you were moving in. or staying for a while.
i liked the feeling of you being there. because we kept our distance. but we always knew the other was there. it was easy for us to live in solitude, and at the same time be together. we were never clingy, like the others. two ghosts.
i told you "i found some of your things," leaning on the door frame, looking at the ceiling.
you got up quickly and sat your feet in knitted socks on the hardwood floors.
you said "fuckin' yes! remeber how i said i couldn't find any of my clothes after moving?"
i said "yeah, but it's just letters and such."
you still smiled and i pointed to were they were. "in the kitchen," i said.
you left, and i sat on the bed. and remembered i need to clean the cat litter.

realizing how irrational my thoughts are.
ridiculously mindset.

one example:
i only want the idea of love. my delusive brain will be so hypnotized.
tricks my veins into feeling. and my heart into palpitations.
but if in proximity, i deter. want nothing of it.
belly butterflies undergo reverse metamorphosis, all wrapping themselves hurriedly into haphazard cocoons.

i am merely a daydreamer, at best.
never an actualizer. never a realist in ideals.
sometimes, i might think of you. a lot of the time, i might think of you.
thoughts as sweet as artificial sugar. and just as pretty. though, not so concise. well, sometimes.
but not folded into those rectangular pieces of pink paper.

...actually, i wish i could--think of you and seal the idea of us into one of those tiny packages. put you back in the box that goes on the second shelf of my cupboard. there would be hundreds upon hundreds them.
i'd have worn boxes and broken wrappers everywhere.
my cat would play with the fallen ones and i'd have to throw them away in the mornings after putting my cup in the microwave.

no matter, i always want to be alone.
and sometimes i forget this.
weaving imaginary fallacies.
not too bitter, not too sweet.




(all the wrong people are going to read this and morph the wrong ideas.
i wish human hearts weren't so impressionable.
just note, that i'm not speaking to anyone directly.
i'm just too lazy to physically write in my journal.)

if you've not seen the swedish psychological horror film hour of the wolf (1968), i highly suggest doing so.
even if you are not fond of the horror genre. i assure you, it's not terribly horrifying.
just inundated with beautiful quotes. i have over 30 film stills saved in a little folder on my computer (which i'll periodically post on my tumblr, most likely).

i love my cat.

she's currently sprawled across my shoulders purring her little heart into oblivion.
she climbed up there herself, by the way.
note--she's gotten much fatter since i first brought her into my quaint abode.
i'll have a neck-ache afterwards, but she's just too cute to worry about that now.

i wish i could take her with me tonight while i monitor the godforsaken lab.
absolutely cannot wait for this gruelling semester to be over.

alright, suppose i'm off to do my monitor duties.
vomit.

TRANSIENCE
(my flickr)

i'd really like to live in some desolate place.
no other houses for miles, dirt roads, wild streams, raging storms and aged trees that creek when the wind blows.
the only people that come to visit would end up staying for a couple of days because the drive is so far.
other than that, just reside by myself for the most part.
go into town once a month to get a vast amount of groceries to last me until the next.
send letters often and read and watch movies incessantly.
bake all sorts of pies with berries from my garden and make eggplant lasagna.
burn incense and tons of candles.
always have the windows open. with heavy heavy heavy off-white lace curtains. so it doesn't let much light in, but glows in a radiant golden hue. the light would always be low and dim. except in the mornings--i would open the curtains in the mornings.
quartz hanging in all the windows and a chandelier, splattering rainbows.
incomprehensible night skies and a rich blinding moon.
light the fire and climb into bed with my record player turning and eleven cats purring on my belly.

all this waking is abysmal.

half-dreaming eyes and hearts that beat mistakenly.
broken lashes will always make lousy wishes.

she drew maps on her legs and wandered for hours.

it all comes down to a matter of opinion.

huzzah for poorly written late-night poetry!
(sarcasm, if you didn't catch my drift)
this gal won't be getting a wink of sleep.




FALLEN FLOWERS


people die,
feelings die,
and you feel its constant withering.

they say,
__"it’s okay, life goes on, darlin’”
to make themselves feel, perhaps, a bit better.

but they often leave off the part stating,
__“until it stops.”
__“and, darlin’…it always stops.”

no matter,
it’s beautiful watching the comatose scream with writhing silence.
inanimate silence that only becomes animate by means of slithering through the beating hearts of unexpected others.

the others—the ones still sprouting flowers so that they may, too, wither—-peer at the silence.
they feel it screaming.
we all do.

and then we part.
and we forget the fallen flowers.
which, upon each waking, become buried beneath another.
and so on.
until we, ourselves, emerge a fallen one.

but it’s the dying that fills us up,
and we don’t even know it.
you can feel so empty in your belly bloated full of obsolete flowers.

your bones are heavy, but frail.
and your skin looks like milk, but is always lukewarm.
the mirrors, broken or otherwise, reflect the same shade of honey colored eyes muddled with specks of impervious amber.

and you turn your pillow to the other side,
and each time you blink your languid eyes, another flower dies.
then, voice waning with the moon, you say,
__“je suis désolé, je suis désolé.”

oh man..
i just realized how much i love patsy cline.
so now i'm on this mad patsy craze and have been listening to everything and watching every video i can find.

soooo gooooooddddd.









so. good.

saw beach house tonight!!!
man, i love victoria. so damn precious, and vocals that kill.
some other band played before them, and it was really vampire weekend's concert--but we just went for beach house and then split.
devotion.
(oops, pun not intended! ...but i guess now it can be.
if you don't understand what i'm talking about devotion was the title of their second release)

i went with anne, an incredible powerhouse of a lady.
(i've mentioned her before, and here's the link to her website that you should definitely checkout. her work is well beyond comprehension--so be prepared to have your mind-blown if you click that!)

nice night.
new moon.
gonna make some coffee and drift into dreams.

awry happenings.
strange, strange things.

i've been home, ill.
so i decided to write another song.

here you go:

i've officially decided that i am going to get the tattoo on my 20th.
so far, only two people know what i'm getting--my sister and my mother.

but around february 11th (perhaps a little later) you will see.

it's nothing big nor fancy.
but something personal, delicate, and infinite.

it's going to be hard to wait.
another option is halloween..

so ill.
i cannot even rummage the energy to go to the grocery store.
and i've no food.
no coffee.
no strength.
only a box of near empty tissues.

fingers laced,
eyes shut.

goodnight,
xo.

my father came all the way down from c.s., gave me this skull, called me weird, then left.

i love you, papa bear!
xo.

this is what transpired today--

due to the making of this book:

my apartment now looks like this:

exhibit A--notice the overturned echinacea bottle. i've been sick and indulging the pills like a madwoman. there is also a box of brown-rice in the right corner (that's what i had for lunch) and a pile of notes/netflix movies can also be seen in the right edge of the frame. on the left side you will notice the pile of messy crafting supplies.

exhibit B--papers and piles of books strewn across the entire floor. bed--uninhabitable. computer streaming music via lastfm. blinds demolished due to my cat's longing to climb in the window. can't wait unitl i get curtains.

exhibit C--first of all, i don't even know what was on the tele. it was muted and was paying no attention, no idea as to why i was wasting electricity. then of course, are the books/papers/painting supplies/etc...

exhibit D--i realized my wasting of electricity and decided to turn it off.



exhibit E--my messy bed and ZORA!!! aw, i just noticed her. i love her so much. anyways, once again, streaming music, guitar upside-down, pillows and blankets in no orderly fashion.

time to tidy-up, i presume..
who would've guessed the making of a book could cause such mayhem?

good-morning, bones--my old friends.

twisting my erroneous thoughts up on film spools.

you know, i’m going to stop imposing my dreams.
one day, i’m going to stop imposing my dreams.

nothing is worth anything.
may as well let it be.

this song. forever.

"put a spell on you
Because you're mine

Stop the things you do
Whoahuh - what's up?
I ain't lyin'
Yeaaah, i can't stand - hoo!
No runnin' around
I can't stand
No put me down
I put a spell on you
Because you're mine
Whoahaa - yeah!
Woah!

Stop the things you do
Whoahuh - what's up?
I ain't lyin'
Aahh!! aah! i love you
I love you
I love you anyhow
I don't care if you don't want me
I'm yours right now
I put a spell on you
Because you're mine, mine
Mine!!! aah whoahh huh "

i'm hopelessly delusional.
incessant thoughts.
of you.
foolish, foolish girl.


yet another new photo up (flickr)

ideas are brewing in this mind stew.
though, i've not the time to commence or further the thought process on any of them.
which has got to be one of the most infuriating things in existence. for me at least.



new photos up, to view click here.

a good day for scraping knees.

jobs i can do in order to make needed money:
1. sell my body
2. drug dealer
3. hit-woman
4. bank robber
5. pick-pocket

reasonable jobs i can do to make needed money:

mind-blowing night.





took my mother as an early birthday present and met up with anne.
it was absolutely incredible.
sorry my vocabulary capabilities are severely hindered in my current state.
just know that it was near beyond comprehension.

goodnight,
xoxo.

(oh, and apologies for the poor quality--taken with my phone since i was all too consumed with cocorosie to take decent ones with my camera)

i've got it all wrong.

i wish my name was spelt xoë, as opposed to zoë.

c'est tout.
i would write more, but i've got four essays to write and two or more projects in every class.
actually, three essays because i just finished one.
hurrah :|

ne pensez pas à moi.

gazed up to the full moon. immediately commenced a sob-fest.
silent weeps--but the sea may as well've been seeping from my heavy eyes.
for hours. i'm still fucking weeping (and working on my cursing skills, all the while).
a huge portion of my being feels dreadful, because i know i couldn't ever love anyone as much as i do my lady moon. but there's this other ration of my soul that only fills on nights such as these.
i don't intend for anyone to hold this personally--it's just a matter of truth.
inevitable truth.
perhaps to aid in understanding:
this notion is just the same as some who will always love their mother more than any entity in this universe.
that's not to say they won't love anyone else. that's not to say they won't love deeply.
but just that the deepest vein will always run with the connection to their mother.
and my deepest vein will boundlessly be enlaced by the moon.

coinciding note: my sixth photo is up for my full moon/"i miss it all" project.

p.s. merry autumnal equinox! xo.

"it's hard to hold the hand of anyone
who is reaching for the sky just to surrender"

pensez à moi.



bonne nuit.

halloween costume idea and plan? check.

uploaded some film photos from my project on juxtaposition.
view here: my flickr.

we knitted sweaters using veins for yarn
vehemently we strung our body’s strands
in moonlight until the sun shattered us with its vengeful dawn
feathered pillows soaked, crimson red
vacant hearts drained of blood and dread
cast-off to the tempo of our vanishing pulse of taps
......................one.
................twothree.
....four.
...................................four.
..five.
sixseven.

............eightnine.
nine.
ten. ...................tenten.
.............ten.
ten.

..ten.


.............la fin.

..and this is why i do not write in my journal.
with these ceaseless thoughts, i might as well write a novel.
goodness.

(still writing)

bloody hell.
i desperately need to rummage up the energy to jot things down in my journal.


mind typhoon.

so. obsessed. with. mina. loy.
her words thrash so deep into my soul.
i can hardly stand it.

yet another day of horror.
absolute horror.

(will spare you the explanation)

i know not what i've done--but the universe is writhing with some sort of vengeance against me.
i honestly do VERY little to have any sort of bad karma, and am likely one of the nicest and most patient beings you will ever meet...but it seems to no avail, i've got some sort of bad energy encompassing me.
i'll make a list of the bad things that have happened to me just within this past week:
1. i bought an 8GB flash drive because while in class my 4GB drive would not hold anymore items.
2. the next day it was no where to be found. the last place i saw it was in a purse within a purse..so i have no earthly idea as to how it could've fallen out.
3. directly after buying the drive i put ALL of my school projects on it--and they were not saved to any computer..just the drive. thus, loosing all of my projects (which were nearly complete, i might add).
4. i accidentally sent that awful text to my boss (basically, don't know what else i would call her). see one of the below posts if you were wondering what the text entailed.
5. i had to buy yet another 8GB flash drive and restart all of my projects.
6. my roll of film for photography class vanished.
7. i thought i found it, so i drove ALL the way up to the lab after working all day and went through the ENTIRE developing process. when i took it out of the developing tank...absolutely nothing was on the negatives.
8. now i have to go re-shoot everything again and i don't have any time to do so. have no idea how i'll manage this. because i still have to process/print EVERYTHING..again.
9. ALL of my freaking projects are due on the exact same day.
10. which is soon. very, very soon.
11. i got punched a painful three times today at work by a mentally challenged adolescent. i was nice the entire time. but it hurt dreadfully. all her father said was "Kelly!" then turns to me and says "sorry." and i said "it's okay" and proceeded to laugh uneasily. not knowing what to do in such a situation. she kept calling me her mommy and sobbing then charging at me..often accompanied by a punch.

this list is seemingly never-ending, though i can't continue because you don't care and i am now going to have to pull an all nighter in attempts to get everything done.
want to kill myself.


what did i do, cosmos?
i worship you.
and this is what i get in return?
that's not very kind.

my horrid attempt at covering allen ginsberg's "father death blues"

i need to rummage up my journal.
i've got stories to fill up the left-over pages.

wish i were not so deplete and sheeted in exhaustion..

HOLY FUCK!
joanna fucking newsom is fucking coming to fucking houston!!!!!!!
that is something i'll effortlessly curse for.
in fact, the words have never left my mouth with such ease.

i'm seriously near hyperventilation.
wwwwwwwhatt?!?!!!
oh my, oh my, oh my.
i can't believe it.
i was planning trips to fly out to see her somewhere because i apparently never saw the entire tour list.
words cannot describe the euphoria streaming through my veins.

p.s. speaking of the cussing: if you read my earlier post, everything turned out fine. she texted me back that night in laughter and consolation. thankfully.

and that...that is why i do not cuss.

worst possible thing that could happen, absolutely did.
and i didn't even say it aloud. it was a text.
i want to die.



for those of you wondering, i lost my flash drive...which currently has all of my projects on it--one of which is due tomorrow. so, i texted my dad, concluding this the prime opportunity to employ the f-bomb. right? yes.
...no. no, no, no, no.
well, you see, the text was accidentally sent to the lady which runs the photo labs at my school (where i monitor from 5:30pm-11:30pm).

lovely, isn't it?
the one time i cuss...
just lovely.

serendipitous day, spent with my father and my cameras.
uploaded a couple new photos to my flickr.

now i've got a pile of homework to tackle, a shower to take, and an alarm clock to set.

tomorrow will be lengthy. not looking forward to it. at least it's supposed to rain.

sorry the image is so pixelated...but LEONARD FREAKING COHEN FOLLOWED ME ON TWITTER!!!

however, i'm not sure if it's actually him.

i mean..i think it is..he has 3,257 followers and is following 1,271 (*ehem* one of which is meee!)

just wish i knew for certain.

my heart is undergoing innumerable palpitations.

nights such as these.
i've got a mind heavier than a fleet of ships.

side note: if the growth rate of my hair were to be transposed into a classical score
its tempo would be largo, at best.

oh, impatience.

i got the internship with gulf coast! (a journal of literature and fine arts)
i'm eager to commence this journey.
the year is going to be hectic, but also resume worthy--if i come out alive, that is.


my mind is flooded.

sick of everything.

cannot express the depths of my vexation.


i'll be having john lee hooker for dinner--
should fill me up and sooth my soul.

fun fact: my grandmother was friends with him (john lee hooker, that is) and paid her a visit once or twice. my mother even has postcards from him.
freaking jealous.

her eyes are thick set,
and she takes her blinking slow.

it sounds like winter outside through my closed apartment windows.
and if i wake up early enough i can smell autumn on it's way.
but then i remember it's texas, 92 degrees out, end of august, and there's still a while before my sweater weather days.

listening to edith piaf.
for the rest of the night.

bonsoir,
xo.

i sat.
in the chair that creeks when you come and leave.
languidly fumbling hair in between index and middle fingers.
staring at the small lamp in the next room.
laughing at nothing when you can't take it anymore.
eyes heavy.
and head. and heart. and feet. and breaths. and beats.

the silence is even heavy.
the walls are heavy.
the shower water is heavy.
the sheets are heavy.
the moon is heavy.
waning, waning, waning...
i feel it too much.

how is it that everything's so heavy when you feel empty?
...tell me.

i'm. going. to. die.
this year is looking pretty brutal.

my schedule, you ask?
monday: school 8:00am-5:00pm

tuesday: school 8:00am-11:00pm (5-11 i'll be working as a photo lab monitor, which means i probably won't actually leave or get home until 12am-ish.)

wednesday: school 8:00am-5:00pm

thursday: school 8:00am-uncertain..hopefully 3pm.

friday: work 10:00am-7:00pm

saturday: work 9:15am-6:00pm

sunday: homework 12:00am-12:00pm

and i even am, for some absurd reason, considering applying for an internship for gulf coast. i'll have no time, but i desperately wish i could. my english professor last year wanted me to, and i just received an email from my poetry prof this semester who inquired about interest in the position.
i'm actually pretty certain i'm going to apply. uuuuuuuugghhhhhhh.

considering my schedule for last year/this summer/and this current one,
i don't know how i'm still alive, honestly.
i really don't.

don't think i'm going to be too fond of this year. my freshman year spoiled me, i presume. not in the sense of work load (it was still quite hefty) but rather concerning the matter of professors and classroom make-up in general.

in other news--i now have a solid idea for a tattoo. thinking i want to get it for my 20th. in my heart, i want to. but iffy, indecisive me is shakin'
i'm mainly troubled that if i do, it will hinder me in the job realm later in life.
and that'd be really drab.
perhaps i'll wait until i'm in my later twenties. or thirty. thirty seems like a nice age.
i feel so trapped in my age. it just doesn't sit suit.
that's one of the most immense internal conflicts i obtain.
being labeled with a certain age and provided limits, but feeling as if my soul is confined to an inescapable shell/society in which i do not fit within.
mais, c'est la vie, non?

in the mood for some macy gray.

full moon tonight.
(which also means a photo is up here: http://www.flickr.com/zoenoelle)

today was le first day o' school.
lots of awry happenings--like my car dying right as i turned into the parking lot--that i've not the energy to type about.
i'm not sure about my classes as of yet. i'll have to wait until the end of the week to conclude as to whether i've got good vibes or not.

my faja, brother, and sister paid me a visit. my mother was supposed to as well, but got stuck in the airport due to weather (she's a flight attendant)
i missed them all so terribly. and now i miss my mama bear even more.
we went out to eat, nonetheless. i had a scrumptious greek salad, in case you were wondering.

my patchouli oil and nag-champa incense have now been restocked and i've also acquired a new ring.
all is well.


sweet dreams,
xoxo

the monotony begins again.

things worth mentioning that happened today:
-brenda from america's next top model came into the place i work to try and sell a camera.
-that's all.

playing make-believe and watching old horror films.
i'm ready for winter.

this is my last day off.
i'm rather perturbed by the thought.

these past four days have been my longest break since i commenced school in 2010.
wasn't long enough to recuperate all of my depleted energy, unfortunately.

i'm going to go mad.

mama's gonna sing you a lullaby...

this guy's voice kills me.
but oh my, how i'm in love with joanna.

don't want to think about it.

mind, wide-awake.
eyes, half-asleep.

what i've done today:
-commenced a countdown to autumn (there are 36 days)
-snuggled with zora
-rummaged through the interweb abyss for old victorian photos
-listened to leonard cohen
-hid from someone ferociously knocking on my door

"Now the flames they followed Joan of Arc
as she came riding through the dark;
no moon to keep her armour bright,
no man to get her through this very smoky night.
She said, 'I'm tired of the war,
I want the kind of work I had before,
a wedding dress or something white
to wear upon my swollen appetite.'"

Well, I'm glad to hear you talk this way,
you know I've watched you riding every day
and something in me yearns to win
such a cold and lonesome heroine.
"And who are you?" she sternly spoke
to the one beneath the smoke.
"Why, I'm fire," he replied,
"And I love your solitude, I love your pride."

"Then fire, make your body cold,
I'm going to give you mine to hold,"
saying this she climbed inside
to be his one, to be his only bride.
And deep into his fiery heart
he took the dust of Joan of Arc,
and high above the wedding guests
he hung the ashes of her wedding dress.

It was deep into his fiery heart
he took the dust of Joan of Arc,
and then she clearly understood
if he was fire, oh then she must be wood.
I saw her wince, I saw her cry,
I saw the glory in her eye.
Myself I long for love and light,
but must it come so cruel, and oh so bright?"

sufjan stevens music video for "you are the blood" using silent horror classics.

i dreamt in french of ghosts and life lessons.

biggest craving for a mango and a thunderstorm.

sobfests are the best releases.

fumbling strings. tangled sheets.
red lips, dirty nails from clenching the mud in fists, untamed eyebrows, wild hair, lousy limbs, and dark shadow spread across eyes. morning eyes. foolish tired eyes from staring at the night sky for too long.
empty perfume bottles. but the smell wafts through my nose and blood just the same.
even though nothing will spray.


making coffee.