i'm a nervous wreck right now.
and the trees cried obama
and the bees buzzed obama
and the seas swelled obama
and the pleas yelled obama
and the hole in the sky
and the birds who couldn’t fly
and the llamas and the mamas
and the venutians and the martians
and the babies and the saviors
and the darklings and the starlings
and the ghosts of the slaves
and the bears and the wolves
and the hungry and the homeless
and the broken and the hopeless
and the soldiers who’d been lied to
and the home buyers who’d been lied to
and the investors who’d been lied to
and the consumers who’d been lied to
and the new born and the dying
and the ancestors who’d been crying
as they saw the constitution
stained like oil upon the water
yes they all said obama
yes we all said obama
and obama listened
as he had been listening
trying to hear each single voicein the sea of voices
since the beginning
like obama, are you hearing?
like obama, are you listening?
vote november 4, 2008 make history
save america
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Sunday, October 26, 2008
..>> 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.
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.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
..>> 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!
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!
Friday, October 24, 2008
..>> 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
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
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
..>> 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.
----
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.
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