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.