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.