and you know i love a mystery,
but good lord, this is killin' me..

i wrote a song for you.
and you'll never even know.

digging through my book cabinet.
i'm exhausted,
but my mind is too preoccupied to sleep.

11:11

"Twenty miles left to the show
Hello, my old country, hello
Stars are just beginning to appear
And I have never in my life before been here

And it's my heart, not me, who cannot drive
At which conclusion you arrived
Watching me sit here bolt upright and cry
For no good reason at the Eastering sky

And the tilt of this strange nation
And the will to remain for the duration
Waving the flag
Feeling it drag

Like a bump on a bump on a log, baby
Like I'm in a fist fight with a fog, baby
Step-ball-change and a pirouette
And I regret, I regret

How I said to you, "honey, just open your heart"
When I've got trouble even opening a honey jar
And that right there is where we are...

And I been 'fessing double fast
Addressing questions nobody asked
I'll get this joy off of my chest at last
And I will love you 'til the noise has long since passed

And I did not mean to shout, just drive
Just get us out, dead or alive
A road too long to mention, lord, it's something to see!
Laid down by the good intentions paving company

All the way to the thing we've been playing at, darlin'
I can see that you're wearing your staying hat, darlin'
For the time being all is well
Won't you love me a spell?

This is blindness beyond all conceiving
Well, behind us the road is leaving, yeah, leaving
And falling back
Like a rope gone slack

Well, I saw straight away that the lay was steep
But I fell for you, honey, as easy as falling asleep
And that right there is the course I keep...

And no amount of talking
Is going to soften the fall
But, like after the rain, step out
Of the overhang, that's all

It had a nice a ring to it
When the ol' opry house rang
So with a solemn auld lang
Signed, sealed, delivered, I sang

And there is hesitation
And it always remains
Concerning you, me,
And the rest of the gang

And in our quiet hour
I feel I see everything
And am in love with the hook
Upon which everyone hangs

And I know you meant to show the extent
To which you gave a goddang
You ranged real hot and real cold but I'm sold
I am home on that range

And I do hate to fold
Right here at the top of my game
When I've been trying with my whole heart and soul
To stay right here in the right lane

But it can make you feel over and old
Lord, you know it's a shame
When I only want for you to pull over and hold me
'Til I can't remember my own name "

julia
julia collects peanut shells and dollar store ceramics.
every night she sews the broken shells into beige pillow cases with red thread,
and carefully lines up the ceramics in a circle around her bed.

her father is snoring in the next room--
he fell asleep in the chair where he watches late night t.v.
popcorn pieces still stuck to his chest hair..

julia brushes her teeth with old sticky toothpaste
and laughs.
because her father can't love a girl like she can.

look at me, whispering little secrets into your closed ears.

i love you.

honeysuckles dangled through fence posts.
honeysuckles dangled through fence posts.
honeysuckles dangled through fence posts.
onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineteneleven.
onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineteneleven.
onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineteneleven.
wasps kissing knobby knees.
wasps kissing knobby knees.
wasps kissing knobby knees.
onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineteneleven.
onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten.
onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnine.
eight.
eight.
eight.
is the number appearing in my dreams.
appearing in my dreams.
in my dreams.
goodnight.

most adorable thing i've seen in a good while.

pet-peeve #1
do not ever end your sentences in "at"
i would say not to end sentences in prepositions at all, but sometimes it does have necessity.

though, this does not:
"where are you going at?"
"where do you want to eat at?"
"where did you get that at?"

i PROMISE, you don't need the "at," i promise.

tiny girls with pregnant bellies.
crude boys quoting machiavelli.

reevaluating.
then reevaluating my reevaluating.

you know how it goes.
(well, maybe?)

it seems the only thing i know for certain is that i should not have worn high-heels for thirteen hours straight today.

i like when my nails are prostitute red.
(to me, the color is elegant)
and how the french say "hip-hop."
(a very staccato "eep-op")
and the way watermelon tastes with salt.
(even though i haven't had it in a year)
and heavy velvet drapes.
(or lace)
and the way my kitty drags out her "meows."
(and then pushes me with a face of longing and love)
and the way björk moves when she sings.
(how her words are so much more than merely a song. and she shows you, like a little secret between just you and her)
and i know, and i know, and i know, and i know how the dark ocean breathes for me and you.
(the urchins feel it too)

rediscovering my deep love for cold war kids.

i started my vision board today.

you were the first thing i put on it.

right next to a chandelier, the number 92, and a small cluttered house in the woods.

HAVE ONE ON ME
my love arrived today in a small manila envelope.
i walked up to my mailbox with fingers crossed and slowly pulled it open--and there she was.
i felt as if i gave birth to my heart--it dropped so fast.
i've been waiting for this for so long.
i ordered it a good while back.
joanna newsom's new album, "have one on me," THREE DISC SET! <33









have yet to listen to it all, but favorite thus far, hands down:

first quarters excite me! (technically it's tomorrow, but i'm stoked)
especially since on the 30th there will be a blue moon.
the second of the year, in fact--which is an extremely rare occurrence.

i'm currently searching for a nice field that i could go to.
listen to the night.
watch the moon.
eat strawberries with honey.
write.
perhaps play some tunes in the solitude.
can't wait.


and fittingly, my family came to visit tonight and we went to "mi luna"--such a great restaurant, i definitely recommend it if you live in the houston area.
i had the best salad ever ever ever! (would post photos of it, but i'm too tired)
it was nice to see them all. we're hardly ever together as a family anymore since i moved away.

i alsooo, have a BED! finally!! well, it's just the mattress and box spring (i think that's what it's called) so far. but hey, better than sleeping on an air mattress--which i've been enduring for around eight months or so.

stuff to do,
but i'd rather read and i'm really in the mood to dream, and my new bed is calling me.
so i'm probably not going to get much done.

nighty night!

rams are so beautiful.

i long for a room such as this.
i've concluded my room will be my main summer project.

vernal equinox
today is the first day o' spring.
it's going to thunderstorm.

disjointed nighttime thoughts--#83
i'd like to befriend an elderly lady.
and become the best of friends.
and drink hot teas and knit things.

an intuitive, spiritually in-tune, no-nonsense type of woman.
and i want her to talk a lot. a lot, a lot.
tell me stories of the past. past lives, even. how she's seen things. the way she's felt things.
stories that make me cry. or laugh so hard that it becomes silent. or leave me daydreaming for months on end.
and i don't want to have to say a word. just to listen. and be inspired. and make art together.

then at the end of the day, we would watch the moon. and write letters about it that we put into an old shoe box every night for years until the paper turns fragile and yellow.

thursday, march 18, 2010--the day i was nearly abducted in the kroger's parking lot.

"disaster"
dis=taken away from.
aster=star.

dis+aster=taken away from the stars.

sorry i look so terribly creepy; i just wanted to share my newest book purchase.
"moon watcher's companion"--donna henes (whom i adore).
so. stoked.
reading and coffee, then bed, and in the morn' sister and faja are coming for breakfast.

sweet dreams,

xoxo

and i'll dip my fingers in the whitest glue.
and i'll light my room in the deepest dim hue.
and i'll place the spoons in the drawer.
and i'll rest my limbs on the cold floor.
and i'll ignore your rapping on my door.
forevermore, forevermore, forevermore.

happy birthday lightnin'!
(march 15, 1912--january 30, 1982)

tonight!
trembling already.

i’m writing more hastily these days.
about thrift stores and how their sweaters smell like mothballs
that an old lady named ophelia probably wore at her funeral.

but i still buy it anyways.
because it’s spring now,
and the winter clothes are 50% off.

raspy morning voices.

i want to bake some homemade bread.
i don't necessarily want to eat it. perhaps i'll give it to a homeless person.
the smell and process are comforting for some reason.

and this just ironically popped up on a lady gaga music video i'm watching on tv,
must be an omen..

"don't take her to movies but to cemeteries
tell all about werewolf bathtubs and forked clarinets
then desire her and kiss her and all the preliminaries
and she going just so far and i understanding why
not getting angry saying you must feel! it's beautiful to feel!
instead take her in my arms lean against an old crooked tombstone
and woo her the entire night the constellations in the sky"

excerpt from one of my favorite poems.
("marriage" by gregory corso)

want.

dave van ronk.

(with dylan)

music starts around 2:25

i'm going to make a documentary about my grandmother. and i'm starting the planning now.
hopefully do some filming this summer.
my mom is in town today because the opening private screening of "for the sake of the song" (a documentary about anderson fair--a music venue/coffee house/artist gathering place that my grandmother founded in the 60s) the movie is happening tonight at the MFA.
well, my entire family is coming into town, but i was with her this morning.
and she was telling me about these things i never even knew about.
and every time i think about my grandmothers life--i see it in the form of a movie.
it's so surreal.
but the problem is some of the people i would want to interview the most that knew her; i.e. lightin' hopkins, john lee hooker, and others have already passed on...
but my mother was her daughter, so i have her memories of them at least.
and there are so many other influential individuals that would bring attention to the documentary.
i need to tell the world about her.

i've always had this inexplicable undying need to make a documentary.
i just never realized the perfect story was right in my blood.
this may take me over half my life to complete, but i'm beyond determined.

what i do at 1 a.m.
clean my apartment while drinking wild cherry fizzy water listening to lightnin' hopkins and reminiscing my lovely mamaw.

if she were alive, she'd just be starting her day; sitting here smoking her cigarette and singing and dancing with me.

goodness, i miss her. such an mind-blowing lady.
can't wait for the documentary opening screening on monday!
that room is going to be so rich. so thick. with memories. and love. and music.
i'll feel like she's here again.
i still feel her though, i do.

the song i'm sleeping with tonight:

shaking wrists.
unfinished lists.
red stained lips.
rugged fingertips.

ten musical artist picks for this month (female-vocalists):
+alela diane
+scout niblett
+mariee sioux
+karen dalton
+beach house
+cat power
+josephine foster
+diane cluck
+emily jane white
+jana hunter

lovely sounds for today...

burning incense, writing art history paper, and listening to:

beddie bye time, kitty and i
(and this song is ruthlessly stuck in my head)

i really wish there were some way i could make this post private..
but since i cannot, here is a disclaimer: i do NOT think i have a good voice. i'm only posting this to look back on, because i have an adorable kitty. and we love each other.

tuesday, march 2, 2010--the day i encountered annise parker in the bread aisle of kroger's.

never have i ever...