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: