Friday, September 30, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
(Soon my song Gyllenhaal Sandwich will be out on the market, keep a look out)
Enjoy the stream:
My nail is slightly broken and I keep filing it through my teeth trying to smooth it out. I don’t know where anything is. It’s a jumbled mess and it’s not over. Messes. Menses. Not yet but soon I’m sure. Tree life plant life lean life fo. For real. It’s cold. Not freezing. Actually just right except my hands are ice. Ice. Ice. So nice. In a glass of water. Cut off. Stand off. No thought. Just go. Have you gone, or will you go and when if you have not? Finding mysteries. Real life not books. Books are better than real life. Sometimes. This nail really irritates me. I need to get laid. Laid. Like someone laying lying on top of me. Or the other way. Or sideways. Either ways. It will have to be a woman cuz I’m off the pill for real. Thank the goddess. She’s smiling down. And I’m centering myself and the world will soon be mine. That’s probably true, they probably put other drugs in pills to keep women from being fully successful. Idk. If that were true more lesbians would be successful. Not like there aren’t any. All she wants to do is dance and make romance. Maybe not romance. Maybe just straight up sex. It’s like before when I could get it whenever I wanted it I wasn’t tempted. Maybe I’m just turned on by the challenge. The risks. The possibility of rejection. Though I like to think it would be difficult to say no to this. But people have. And it’s been their loss. Lost. They were lost. But it’s okay. Not their fault. Jake Gyllenhaal, the only guy I’d fuck. Or maybe someone who looked just like him. And he wore a condom. Though I still get high school worried about that stuff. Like let’s go ride some roller coasters and drink wine coolers just in case. Just in case you haven’t noticed. I never run late. The wheels of fate of told me what? Go with the flow. Be the flow. Follow no. no way. Lead the way, not today but after coffee. I will find a file. I will be filed under ____________? I’m sure only the government knows. Though I doubt I’m on their watch list. But wouldn’t that be cool? I’m not revolutionary enough, I’d like to be. Be the change, blah blah. Better than asking for change I guess...and I mean that in more than one way. Off to work she says. Off to work. Work. Why do we do that? What is the point? I discovered a good point about myself last night, but I need more time to dwell on it, to make sure it’s right. In the meantime, kisses and wishes for a future full of clean dishes.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Sometimes I wonder if I was intuitively smarter or more honest with myself, and life in general, when I was younger. Or if I just didn’t get it.
For example, while packing up my stuff I came across this picture of me back in high school. I was wearing a shirt that on the front said, “Boy Troubles?” and on the back said, “Just Dump Him.” Now, that seems easy enough right? It seems like a smart solution.
But I’m pretty sure I bought that shirt before “love” entered the picture. And love just completely fucks things up now doesn’t it?
Not that it’s bad—all the time—just that it changes one’s perceptions of reality.
I woke up this morning, not too long ago, and realized that last night was the last time I’d sleep in my bed in this apartment. (And the last time I’d sleep in my own bed for a few months too).
I realized how much work lay ahead of me—not just the general packing up of all my shit (and there is a lot of shit), but emotional work. The working of “getting over it.”
And it is rather annoying—all of it.
I’m tired of being nice about it. I’m tired of being P.C. I’m tired of doing all the work.
But, I guess that’s just the way it will be. Soon I won’t be tired anymore because it will all be over. Yay!
A part of me does wish for those youthful simple solutions. Non-complications. But I wouldn't have really grown much as a human if that's how I approached life (and men); and acting like a 16 year old when I'm 26 doesn't seem fair to anyone including myself.
Sandra Cisneros says something like, when you're five you're still four, you're still three, two, one. You are all of those experiences. So maybe having a little bit of my 16-year-old self shine through occasionally isn't so bad--as long as it's the carefree, strong-headed part.
(I'll throw in a bit of my 5-year-old self too cause dancing in costume is always fun)
To troubles solved and new beginnings.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
(I really enjoy how this model is holding kale next to her butt... It makes sense, I'm sure, somewhere,)
Monday, September 26, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
I'm at the airport. Waiting for take-off. I can't believe I had no time to blog pretty much the entire time I was home. I guess there is more to do in Kansas than people think! Lots of people to see anyway.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
I feel like Frankenstein's monster; I have two zits right on my jaw line like bolts in my neck. Too much salt (like literally some people are allergic and it makes them break out, fyi).
Monday, September 5, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Friday, September 2, 2011
I'm not really sure how I ended up outside a bar last night, but there I was, with other people who were unlocking their bikes; we were all heading home. But then, these two Romanian guys came up to us and started saying how one of us looked too Eastern European, the other too American, and me, well I was perfect (HAHAHA I know, they seriously said that)-- I looked French.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
You know, people ruin a lot of things, but there is one thing they ruin more than anything--Waterfalls. That's right.