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).