..>> je t'aime <<..

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way that this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

..>> washed away <<..

it's been a hard days night... more from chapter 3.

Stacey walked down the road, clothes clinging to her like a second skin, heavy and bearing down on her delicate frame.
The rain had started halfway thru her train ride home and was getting heavier. Fat droplets flung themselves towards the earth’s face, kamikaze diamonds dancing their way to molten puddles.
As she made her way down the vacant street she noticed the flickering of bat’s wings overhead. She looked up and saw the bantam figures darting thru the dulling glare of the street lights, sickly orange auras overhead. Squinting thru acid tears, she thought she saw a silhouette wrapping its way around the street lights poles and up to the sky which was now canopied by clouds.
Then the soggy girl, the girl who stood under imaginary halos pushed her head upwards and let the rain dance over her face, and she smiled at the notion that these particular heavenly tears, fat and acidic and rubberized, could wash away the night’s events and would make her pure of heart again.
Headlights sliced thru the night and roused her from her introspection. The fat metal body drove past without thought, the rotation of pitted wheels, a thousand oblivious turns per minute. The car churned forward and the rain descended upon the smooth line of the window screen.

When she got home, the rain finally stopped and a damp, salty residue was left hanging in the air. She made her way upstairs to her room, full of candles and books and golden brown feathers, of fairy wings hanging on widows and amber rose soaps. She peeled the shirt from her torso and stepped out of her fallen pants and hoped straight into a warm shower. Her lavender shampoo helped to form her hair into a soapy Mohawk and vanilla bean conditioner created an oil slick down her legs. There she stood, alabaster goddess, skin tingling from the new temperature. The bathroom light extended into the glass shower like creepers making her skin luminous and she sat down while the water beat warm rhythms on her spine. All the while replaying her conversations with Matt over and over, seeking ecstasies in memories.

When she was growing up, no one ever understood Stacey Larson. How her hair was seemingly well groomed and knotted at the same time, how she looked at everything and everyone with excruciating exactness. Why, when other children were out socializing in large groups and running like buffalo herds thru the mall, she chose to be home alone, nose buried in books and head in the silvery clouds. While her piers were at the local pool, she was collecting sea glass and urchin casings and jumping thru the peaking waves. And the answer was simple really. While most people limited themselves with mechanical realism, Stacey chose to live with a complex sensibility. She saw pretty words and portraits where others saw only graffiti, infinite beauty when there was none to be seen. She was an outcast to everyone but herself. And even now at 17 she was continually changing, becoming herself. Free and trapped within her ever mutating image.

..>> mcgopher <<..

has anyone ever noticed that john mccain bares a striking resemblance to the gopher from winnie the pooh???

so firstly, i made it to early voting FINALLY! the fact i live in a state that offers early voting is awesome. i only had to wait 30 SECONDS lol. i don't know if it's where i live, but i hope that more people actually turn out to vote on November 4th. it was stated that a 3rd of americans would turn out for early voting, that cleary wasn't reflected in this town :(
there's a girl in macy's called erica, she's 21... and was too lazy to register to vote. and when i asked her why, her reponce was an infuriating 'it doesn't really matter if i vote'.
what
the
fuck
you
ignoramous!
needless to say, i had to leave otherwise rather wuickly when i found out that little gem.

how did i vote you ask? well durrrrrrrr O-BIDEN and NO ON 2!!!!!!

found out my dad actually vote yes on 2, later to deny he said as much... after i laid down the facts that not only was it about gay civil rights, but the elderly, his grandchildren... and everyone. and unfortuantely, my mom, a legal alien, is unable to vote :/

secondly, i've been living here for 3 years now. and in that 3 years (not including traveling out of state to visit friends) i've been out all of... wait for it... 4 times, maybe? i've only made 1 'friend' here, and really... it's all down to me. since in all honesty, i can't fathom anyone being here that i could relate to, on the slightest level.
i'm surrounded by uneducated, ill-mannered, uninteresting, untraveled morons who are happy spending their whole life in this little homeostatic bubble.
i would like to preface that, by saying before living here, i lived in europe for 10 years. i was a big fish in a small ocean/minor local celebrity and was out atleast 5 nights a week (from 16-18 i was out 7 nights a week, every week. yikes)
i've lived on 3 continents and had traveled to over 20 countries by the time i was 20.
people here have barely left the city, let alone the state. so depressing!
dear portland, i'm coming home soon!

..>> endangered <<..

yes, i'm searching
it only takes a glance for me to know
are the eyes reptilian?do they not meet mine?
do they flit away to check the girls?
a single sniff
bad cologne? cigarettes? secrets?
the tone in a voice
sarcasm? judgment? open wounds?
still i pretend and go along
as if maybe i'm wrong
but loss and time have made my senses sharp
like an endangered beast

yes, i'm restless
i imagine you every day
i look for you religiously
people tell me i can't find you this way
but what other choice is there?
to sit and wait for you to find me?
my legs never stop moving
even in my dreams

yes i'm intense
last night i put a picture of a man
under my pillow
trying to dream you
instead i dreamed the brown-eyed beauty
who was shot in columbia
trying to save rain forests
but you are somewhere, so alive it makes me weep

yes i'm loved but lonely
are you ever lonely too, among the pretty girls?
do you think—oh, she's a little different and i'll find her
we'll go to a yoga class together
sweat a lot, then eat brunch at the café?
i'll read her books, i'll write her
she'll come to my gigs and dance
afterwards we'll intertwine all night
not separate until we finally find the hidden secret of who we really are?

are your senses sharpened from loss and time
so that you can recognize my eyes
gazing green through hours and rooms?
so that you can smell my musk vanilla lavender
so that you can hear the warmth and sorrow in my throat?
maybe your senses are sharper than mine
maybe you're the beast
and i'm the thing that saves you from your hunger
maybe i can stop searching dreaming running
maybe you'll find me
first



i went to goodwill yesterday and got a pair of ankle fringe moccasins for $1.99 HA. the woman only charged me half price cuz she's a hippy and loves the stuff i buy. :D
we talk about my fashion choices often! and it makes me secretly happy, that somwehere in this desolate town of wiggers and hillbillies, someone appreciates my punk rock hobo couture! <3

..>> hilarity <<..

i'm politically incorrect and going to hell... but atleast i'm laughing on my way there!

if you can't read the text

"mrs palin, what's the difference between your mouth and vagina?"

"only some of the things that come out of your vagina are retarded" best line ever!

..>> excerpts schmexcerpts <<..

this is some of what i'm working on!
----

But those eyes, she thought to herself, I could lose myself forever in their depths. They were the most astonishing shade of blue, full of deep, brilliant facets. And for an instant, she was swimming amongst schools of tropical fish, waves of aquamarine and quartz and peridot. Pools that harbored profound, unique creations, which she longed to dive further into. To taste with the tips of her eyelashes. He coughed and it broke her from her reverie, face blushing from standing so close to him.

Slowly they made their way up the hill, trains singing siren songs and traveler’s lullabies in the distance as they talked.They walked across a bridge that covered the highway. Below them, the traffic was relentless, throbbing and strumming like fantastic mechanical insects, dreaming of electricity and crossed wires. The street was a beatbox, the pulse was continuous and her heart played right along.They walked past men who used the pavement for pillows and concrete for shoes, whose bellies were leaden and empty.They walked thru groups of kids that wore the night like a skin and who cursed their suburbia for being safe and numb, for being easy to sell, easy to digest and easy to forget.

As they walked and their laughter started to obscure the noises surrounding them, their words became so thick and luxuriant, that neither one realized that the sky had become dim and murky. She looked to her left, where the telegraph poles stretched to the sunset, where the dithyrambic and blazing days end and coat everything in the deepest red. In those few seconds, she basked in the cannibal flower that still remained.

-------

Jesse peeled himself off the green velvet couch and went to the kitchen. He walked slow and hunched, like a cat in need of a good stretch.
When he returned, Stacey’s water in hand, he heard what had made her face turn the color of infection. Two rooms away, Matt and Connie were fighting. Jesse returned to the couch and put the T.V on, but Stacey stayed in the same position, sipping on her water which cooled her throat like calla lilies and airport sprinklers. She couldn’t make out anything that was being said, but she could recognize sounds. sounds that reminded her of scared seashells, broken hearts and shaking hands, of bruises beneath weathered eyes.

“Hey Jesse, can you do me a favor?” She placed her glass atop the scared table. “Can you tell Matt I had to catch my train, but that I’ll give him a ring tomorrow?”

“No problem. Nice meeting you!” Jesse waved goodbye from his velvety island.

“Yeah, you too!”

Stacey was almost out the door when Matt emerged from his bedroom. The strength of his face was falling quickly, edges of character melting away.

“Where are you going?”

“I just realized the time. My train leaves in 20 minutes!”
She was lying of course.There was a train twice hourly to her station, but she couldn’t stand being in this house anymore. Not with the fighting or the millions of memories that could never be hers.
“I’ll call you tomorrow though, and we can arrange another time to do your hair.”

He explored her face with eyes that cut as deeply as shards of glass. Suddenly she felt the walls close in around her, the tyranny of unhappiness, the oppression of his relationship. The life between these walls reeked of a drawn out death, a life without freedom and passion, of stifling and choking consequences.

As she walked out into the night where the stars were her cover and the moon shone caged and crazy as a halo, Stacey grabbed Matt’s hand. A hand calloused and full of deep valleys, hiding stories his brain couldn’t even recall. She coveted those valleys in her palms and spoke soft and low.

“I promise,” she lulled “I will call you tomorrow.”

Before this night, they had never seen each others faces. And strangely enough, to each other, they both looked extremely familiar, like looking at the other, was like looking into a window and seeing their reflection.Maybe they had crossed paths in their city, perhaps they were victims of periphery, but now, tonight, underneath the sky sodden with stars, her eyes promised everything to him and they were no longer strangers.

..>> HA HA HA <<..

Built by Robot: math homework
cherishedXblood: one penis plus one penis equals buttsex?
Built by Robot: no
cherishedXblood: oh :(
Built by Robot: you forgot to put it in anal intercept form

bwahaha

..>> torera <<..

there's a bullfight in my cunt

stabbing
bleeding

stabbing

bleeding.

the bull thrusts his horns in my abdomen

flowers of blood run down my thighs.

he tears down walls, knapsacks eggs.

month after you month

you slaughter all the strength in my body.

leaving my legs weakened stilts,

my feet too awkward to walk on.

there's a bullfight in my cunt

and it doesn't seem to be letting up.

a garden of roses at my feet

i stand in the bathroom, your hot breath

sweating thru my body.

and then the relief of porcelain

a cool breath to wash me down,

but once again you drag me to another part of the house.

leaving me,

smelling wooden floor,

lying fetal postion

whiteness against my abdomen.

i cradle my defeated woman

while you lick blood from your hooves.

so if you can't already tell, i'm in alot of pain! i made these:

and i ate all of them. the greedy girl creature that i am. also, i miss the companionship of a significant other. i've been alone for far too long, and although it was of my own choosing... i think it's about time i open the cage. or at the very least sit close enough to the bars so that someone can hear my song.

..>> yo momma <<..

the fact that john mccain might be our next president, doesnt scare me half as much as the prospoect of sarah palin being our next vice president. cuz lets face it... in the end she'll be the one calling the shots. and that's something that is just to awful to fathom!

living in florida, you get used to the fact that there are religeous and christian extremists all around. you also get used to the fact, that these people are extreme right wing fuckheads! and i mean extreme. someone actually told me that our finiancial ruin and current state of affairs, is all due to bill clinton! WTF!!!!

firstly, let me remind you, that our country was in the black... way the fuck in the black when clinton was president! we were doing well in foreign affairs and policies. all was well with the world...for the most part.

secondly, don't let the fact that he had an affair cloud your vision! dude got laid! that has no reflection on his ability to govern people and run a country. one's personal life has nothing to do with one's professional life. it seriously ercks me when people try and use THAT as an excuse.


neither obama or mccain support gay marriage, which is a bummer, as it is in my opinion that who you love is who you love. how you play is up to you. but obama supports equal civil rights for gay couples! why wouldnt anyone? *ahemstupidchristiansahem* i'm sorry mr man, you take it up the ass, therefore you are dirty and dont deserve the same rights as others.

75% of the women i know take it up the ass, and all men dig blowjobs... so there you have it. we're pretty much all gay and therefore no-one deserves any civil rights whatsoever. glad we sorted that out.

shut the fuck you ignorant, wrinkled turkeybrains!!!! stop being so scared and open up your eyes! take of your blinders and see that the youth of today is more than capable of making competant decisions when it comes to our future.



furthermore, if someone else tells me that mccain is a maverick i just might have to commint genocide on a minor scale. if another woman tells me that palin is wonderful and deserves our vote because she is a woman, i will have to commence acts of violence on my own sex.

palin, is scary. her knowledge of foreign policy is scary. to attitude is even scarier. she stands for everything i am against.

she hunts, i'm involved in animal rights.
she is anti abortion, i am prooooo choice.
she is anti gun control. i am for it.
anti gay marriage. for it
she pushes for ethic reform. shut the fuck up you dumb hick bitch
and on and on and on.

sorry for the crude language, but there are no polite words to convey my distaste for this woman. volunteering on the pta and taking down caribou with a custom built rifle, does not a descent candidate make!
so until the election, with our future unknown, i'll be losing sleep.

..>> that old familiar <<..

That was not thunder. There was no way it could possibly be. It was metal collapsing, glass breaking, the earth caving in on itself. I kept my eyes closed, pictures fluttered gently on the wall, your breath was soft and steady and I could hardly hear it over the rain pouring down outside. I'd never heard it rain like that before. It was biblical.
Light filled the room, a blue static. The roof, the walls, everything shook. I wondered what it would be like when I looked outside. A part of me hoped everything would be gone. All that would be left was you and me, the howling wind and the pouring rain, our feet barely touching underneath the covers. Even after I was fairly certain the world outside had made it through the night, I still couldn't help but feel that everything I knew was being taken from me. Like this was all I had left.
I hid my face in the curve of your neck. Lightening, thunder. I put my hand on your chest, putting down the anchor as the water rose. I could feel your heart beating, its rhythm completely out of synch with its surroundings. You were still there, so calm and perfect and beautiful. I cried when I looked at you, knowing that you were oblivious to this storm, while I shook and prayed to a God I don't believe in for it to go away. I prayed that you'd stay safe, untouched and unharmed, and I prayed that if I was going to drown in everything that it would be over quickly. Your heart kept beating.
If you had woken up you would not have been able to tell that I was crying. My face was pressed against you, you were sweating over something I was not able to see, and I was weeping over something you would not understand. The blend was seamless.
The thunder cracked, and another flashbulb exploded, filling the room. I saw you then so clearly, and suddenly over the thunder and the rain all I could hear was your heartbeat. Through the chaos and the panic, all of the pain and the rage that I felt just lying next to you, I saw this so clearly. All of that hurt and anger, the nights behind a locked bathroom door, crying into my hands over my own blood, waking up next to a stranger in a clinic room, the shame and guilt that I have carried this year, it was all stopped and silenced. Another flashbulb. I sacrificed a life. I let the outside world take away something that can never be returned. But there we were, still together, completely changed but still together. I had been tortured not as a punishment, but as a reminder. To feel the pain and the sadness was a gift that I had misinterpreted the entire time. You were still there. And I, was still alive. My heartbeat began to keep time with yours. And in that moment, I found my salvation.

..>> you are the smell before rain <<..

two things:

firstly... every night i take the galoot, aka bailey, on a super long walk. it's epic! i write stories in my head, as lame as it sounds. my head is where thousands of incomplete stories dwell.

but every night, on these walks, there is a smell i can't quite describe. it wraps its way into my nostrils and dances past olfactories and roots its sultry self around my memories. i have no idea what the smell means to me, where i've smelled it, if ever i have before. it brings to mind no person or place of significance... and yet that smell... fells like... home. it's so sickly sweet and luxuriant that i just want to bathe in it.

this got me wondering... whether or not smells imprint on our brains without any particular recognition at the time. i'm sure you know what i mean. there are times in my life when a certain smell, or infact any sensory experience, can be pin pointed to a certain time in my life. a lover, a club, an adventure. but what if this smell was a minor event in my life but a major turning point? what if this smell was there when i kissed my ex for the first time? and if it hadn't been, would i have melted so freely and willingly into his tight fold? did the brilliance of the smell effect the levels of certain chemicals in my brain at the time?

perhaps if i carry a vile of it with me at all times i'll be able to attract a more savory type of man. bla bla i know.

for future referal purposes: this is bailey <3

secondly... i used to walk thru the red light district of amsterdam, alone, at night, at the tender age of 15. why is it now the case that i get the heeby jeebies from vacant houses around the corner?

is my perception bleached?!

..>> catharsis <<..

i've neglected this "blogging" part of the interweb the whole time! isn't this how friends are made? isn't this how i get noodz? WHAT WAS I THINKING!?!?!

acutally, i'm pretty sure i was thinking that none of you people would want to read about my life, as it's most mundane. because no matter how interesting, cool, or exciting i actually am, i'm still boring enough to take the time and write in this. how sad for me.

boohissboo