Monday, August 30, 2004

Greek Mythology Won't Break My Fall

Like looking at the clouds too long while walking down the sidewalk, and thump slamming your heels a foot off a curb you didn't see. Just keep falling these little falls.

Thump: A rejection indirectly toward me. It seems very bad manners.

Thump: A beautiful day set apart for another day.

Thump: A beautiful apartment last night i could afford until they said the deposit was times the rent by two. Thump, times it by two.

Thump: Somebody keeps getting hurt, and for no reason at all.

It just feels like a day spent breaking up. Not knowing what to do once everything falls into place this year. If it really decides to. Feeling like hobos with lightness yet the heavy pieces of plastic that burn in our back pockets when Zeus doesn't seem like he's going to come through this time around.

Thursday, August 26, 2004

A Sniff Of Violet With Tea

read a product description: "sandlewood incense - best served after lunch." i like that idea of serving smells like you serve food.

flipping through the channels earlier, i hit upon a home shopping show. but no oh no, this was not just any home shopping show. it was the christian channel's home shopping show, hosted by a little old nun telling bible stories. even to unreligious me, it seems a smidge sacriligious for this sister to immediately follow the story of fatima, without even taking a breath, with "and now to commemorate this amazing tale you can purchase this 18 inch statue of fatima and her children, bringing her essence into your very own home for a mere $49.95." i half expected her to announce that with every purchase you'll get the free gift of automatic forgiveness of your sins.

Tuesday, August 24, 2004


I am really superstitious right now about a certain something and feel like words will cross themselves out in the air if I say them as awkwardly as I think them.

Maybe sometime next week I'll be able to diffuse this restlessness completely, whether the answer is yes or no.

Thursday, August 19, 2004

Say It Again

I have yet to unearth the many common things that are dusted over with the everyday dirt of coming and going. Simple things when I become invisible when standing directly in front of mirrors. These things that are trapped in the skin no matter how many times it replaces itself.

I can read fiction again like I used to. Attempted books that failed with my math eyes at around page 100. A musky sweet, white paperback of Hot Water Music and Deadeye Dick just this week.

I have noticed a softness coming back into my voice instead of the sharp angularities that are forced from my steady confident-self. I am sing-song in my way of speech as I feel weaker and weaker.

I'm not sure where I was but I'm returning with all my weaknesses, and awkward prejudices hanging off my fingers in ghost form.

Monday, August 9, 2004


The anxious background music of violins being played in anyway possible creeps up my spine during the most boring times of my day. I am waiting for the dramatic outcome to this invisible soundtrack that steps on the scuffs of my heels. Though the climatic manifestation will probably take the form of breaking a dish, ripping a page, or tripping on my own shoelaces. I am currently undeserving of such mental string popping and chafing.

Sunday, July 11, 2004

Three Inches Tall

I wish I could convince myself of any variety of medium truth just to unroll these thoughts and lay them flat faced.

We forget how free we are.

Thursday, May 27, 2004

I Want To Be The Girl With The Most Cake

Happy Birthday to me.

I just want to be quiet for a long time in a 'nook' listening to robert smith, glancing down at my broken chipped bent dirty fingernails, blinking a blink too long, and daydreaming in dreams that outdo the night. I just want left alone in stillness. life keeps changing everyday.

Thursday, May 20, 2004

New Plan

I would like to think that divergence after some time inevitably leads to convergence on some living topology.

That maybe there is a symbiosis: that when things fall apart they are actually coming together.

Tuesday, May 18, 2004

Number 54

There are times when a feeling of expectancy comes to me, as if something is there, beneath the surface of my understanding, waiting for me to grasp it. It is the same tantalizing sensation when you almost remember a name, but don't quite reach it. I can feel it when I think of human beings, of the hints of evolution suggested by the removal of wisdom teeth, the narrowing of the jaw no longer needed to chew such roughage as it was accustomed to; the gradual disappearance of hair from the human body; the adjustment of the human eye to the fine print, the swift, colored motion of the twentieth century. The feeling comes, vague and nebulous, when I consider the prolonged adolesence of our species; the rites of birth, marriage and death; all the primitive, barbaric ceremonies streamlined to modern times. Almost, I think, the unreasoning, bestial purity was best. Oh, something is there, waiting for me. Perhaps someday the revelation will burst in upon me and I will see the other side of this monumental grotesque joke. And then I'll laugh. And then I'll know what life is.

Sunday, May 16, 2004


Vegetable and fruit dinners for three days straight. My forearms are browning now as i stoop over the rows of baby lettuce. A lightness that follows.

But then, inside underneath the Los Angeles Times or sometimes even the Reader, My skin pricks up, cold. Things are about to change real swift here in the U.S.

I think there are going to be some trials coming up. I think that once everything comes out that it is very possible that Bush and Rumsfeld will be tried as war criminals if the worst is still hidden.

It makes me physically sick. We try going out but things are crazy with girls wearing thongs and are too drunk keep their skirts from magically falling down or flying up. And pick-up trucks circling the same block.

Things go on all the same.

Monday, May 3, 2004

Another Day Gone, Dreaming

I spend my time getting lost between what I should be doing and what I dream of doing.

This in between space is where I meet you, because as we know it, we're both dreamers caught up in a vile world of necessity.

I miss the smell of wood burning. I would like to stay warm near the fire, warm my hands. and your heartfelt words will keep my heart warm too.

We will etch broken hearts on broken wood.

The forest will sing our names. Faintly echoing the ideals we have lost on our way.

I don't mind the wandering. Just keep yourself close to me .. and whistle a little tune for the lonely birds ..


There's no use crying over burnt toast.

Monday, April 26, 2004

Connect The Dots

I used to feel so defined in certain ways and now I think I am every person, in a sense. Plain human-shaped flesh that flaps around and does human-like things all the time.

I think that people must just pick things sometimes, like majoring in business or even their wives and husbands. Just that you have to pick eventually unless you choose to stand still.

All this isn't true, not exactly. I hope. Still this westcoast girl who likes walking and talking on on familiar roads with the endless ceiling of sky making you feel taller than what you are. If given the chance, I think and think until thin skinned.

It sounds so good and so unbelievably right in my head, but ridiculously silly and "out there" once written down/typed, but my mind has grown in superior ways. Reading something last night and not sleeping for even the slightest moment, I think I'm a much better and more focused person. An overnight epiphany. And all this searching has seemed to come to a point, such a point that it's disected the heart in its center.

Saturday, March 13, 2004

Sorry, Charlie

Parts of stories keep pressing in between of my day-to-day tasks. Not so much the language, a caught line here or sputtering alliteration that jazzes off my tongue when I'm staring out the window.

But just parts: a deaf woman falling in love with a gesturing and flailing mumbler.

A couple washing and drying dishes together while finishing off a bottle of wine who end up throwing all their dishes out the window against a brick wall.

I just saw Gold Rush with Charlie Chaplin imagining the dinner roll dance he'll do for his ladies on New Year's Eve. Two dinner roll feet, two skinny fork legs and his soft shoe and eyes.

It's the kind of elegance I hope to touch someday.