Monthly Archives: September 2010

i need a spare blue body for emergencies

i can never decide how i feel about blank sheets of paper. and how i feel about the fact that i am a little bit paranoid. or the fact that i worry about what i think of what i think. i like that whole saying about dreams within dreams because that would be so much easier but instead i am stuck in my life, which is not a dream because my brain couldn’t make something like this up. it’s too talented.

it really surprises me sometimes what people think of me. of my age, of my personality, of my decisions. of the words i write when i can’t speak. it makes me laugh. it makes me feel quite interesting, like i’m some mysterious character when really all i am most days is artificial spunk and a sort of dreary and redundant sense of sarcasm at the entire universe. or maybe at is the wrong word to use, maybe with would be better. a dreary and redundant sense of sarcasm with the entire universe. like i am just taking the words right out of her mouth (can a universe have a mouth? i am curious now. i won’t be able to sleep tonight wondering if the universe has a mouth. and what if it does? what is inside the mouth? i don’t know anyone who just has a mouth, they have teeth and a tongue. and most tongues have taste buds. what does the universe like to taste? has the universe ever had her first kiss? and if she did, was she up all night wondering how she tasted just like i am up all night now wondering if she has a mouth? maybe i just want to taste the universe and have her taste me back. except i don’t think that shall ever work because i am too straight to be locking lips with anything i refer to as female, even something as beautiful as the universe.

so i guess we shall both be up all night tonight thinking about each other and now i feel vaguely victorious to have spread my insomnia, so perhaps this rabbit trial was not in vain.)

anyway. i was supposed to be short and biting, but instead my fingers are out of control and just made me miss my usual 11:11 prayertime. i guess i’ll just go write a letter to a friend warning her to steer clear of fate and then think about kissing a bit more and count the seashells i have been saving up, and then i will probably talk to him until my eyelids collapse and wake up the moment we say goodnight.

p.s. i think the universe would taste like mangoes and smoke.

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i don’t know, and i don’t need to

you know how sometimes everything gets that glowy tint, the kind where the sky looks like a million shades of blue and the whole ground underneath is spun gold, and in between the blue and the gold, you are perched precariously on the very top of a fragile, very beautiful globe? and you know how for just an instant, you feel like sobbing and sobbing because everything is so, so… so beautifully and intricately handcrafted with you in mind and everything you love. and everything has been thought of and considered and organized just so. each heartbeat that throbs in your chest can resonate through the sky and bounce off of the clouds and ricochet from the stars, and each breathe you take fits into the pattern of the waves, in and out, lapping against the fine earth spun from skeletons, until the day your breath fades and your bones are mixed into the ground and you are part of the dust again. and you fit, and the whole world fits, and if you close your eyes, you can feel everything turning into place.

this song makes me feel like that.

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reversed flight

wood snaps under my feet
as i sink through a whirlpool of splinters
the shape of the broken boards
momentarily cradling my tightly curled body before
collapsing and
falling away

i close my eyes
hands reaching for the falling sun
while i travel down into faded gold and orange reflections
face tilted back for a last glance of the burning clouds
as i enter the world
hidden under the water’s skin

mouth gaping and trying to pull in
just one more lungful
something to bring with me and hold onto
when the colors fade into a velvety blackness

in the distance up above me
i can see little pinpricks touching the surface
as tiny raindrops press into the lake’s body

baby oceans descending from the sky
stretching
d
e
e
p

d
o
w
n

and trying to reach me as i float
further into my gravity-sunk sky

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i will be a tightrope walker and i will walk across the air to you

you still don’t know, do you, how breakable you are, how stunning, how breathtaking you are when you look the world in the eye and refuse to cry, even though your life has been one emergency packed after the other. you don’t know what a miracle is yet, and still here you are, with no label other than that of ‘miracle’ tied around your wrist with the kind of paper that can’t be ripped off. it’s bright red and it looks like blood as it clings to your pale skin, a hospital tag, a reminder to everyone to be careful with you, to be gentle, to not take you for granted.

sometimes that label frightens me.

and you, i wonder if you understand, either. i’ve written it down a thousand times in lead and ink, typed it on a screen until my fingertips were sore, but i’ve never heard you admit right back to me that you are fearful and wonderful, not just to the father up above, but to me down here on the same ground as you walk on thousands of miles away, to the friends there who hold you when i can’t, to the family that sometimes feels more like mine than my own, to the ones who hurt you and don’t deserve you but were blessed with you anyway. i wonder if you will ever really understand, beyond what each word alone means, what they mean as a whole when i tell you how much i love you and how astonishingly beautiful you are to me.

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things that are making me happy

Normally I only do these kinds of lists when I am in a very bubbly mood. However right now I am not feeling particularly pleasant, so I figured it was time to sit my butt down and think of the reasons I SHOULD be pleasant.

  • this song. it makes me want to dance and as a result it’s the perfect song to listen to while vacuuming the house (even if I own the vacuum from hell.)
  • making elaborate plans for the future that will most likely never happen, but hey, it’s nice to have some sort of goals for your life, right?
  • my clone. partially because he’s amazing (you can’t have as much in common with me as he does and not be amazing ;) ) and also partially because he told me he wanted to be on my blog to make it interesting. so here you have it. how’s it feel to be famous, cole?
  • mechanical pencils. they are so clicky and smooth and light to hold in your hand. although i am insane about having sharp pencils so I actually get aggravated when my lead gets too dull and I have to snap it off and make it nice and sharp again.
  • making a book of all sorts of nice things I have found online, from short funny quotes to poems to articles I think my sister in KY would enjoy for her 15th birthday if she makes it out to AZ to visit.
  • watching a friend of mine be killed onstage in a Shakespearean production.
  • re-reading all of my favorite picture books from when I was a leetle teeny girl and found stories about butterfly kisses and wild things and mice with purple purses and girls teaching other girls to read and pie that makes your dreams happy unless you eat too much and bunnies whose mothers love them so much they never let them escape interesting. Oh, wait. I still adore stories like that. <3
  • my starbucks frappuccino bottle full of seashells I picked up in North Carolina this summer.
  • finally managing to play that song I’ve been terrified of performing for weeks and play it perfectly and being able to be confident I can do it again.

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we’re not that different after all

for some reason nothing sounded quite as intensely interesting as drinking a glass of water. i filled up a square, tall glass with a rounded base, put in four ice cubes (three stuck together by a thin skin of frozen sweat, one by itself leaning against the side of the glass, half supported awkwardly by the close-knit trio) and thought about how
air was the only thing keeping them
down, when it is usually the only thing
keeping a bird up, and how a stream of water
would cause them to float up
to the very rim of their
prison, and it would
drag me down, down, and down.

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how’s this for forever

I wonder what to say, now. I don’t know how to address you, or what to tell you, or how to close a single conversation. How sad is that, really? I don’t even know the proper way to leave anymore.

Do you remember when leaving was the most natural thing in the world, when coming back was inevitable? It was routine, good-byes were nothing but a smile to take with you at night to keep you company while you were asleep. They came naturally, gracefully, affectionately. I remember looking forward to goodbyes. They implied little besides a hope of return, and, maybe closer to the end, even love.

Now, they are not natural, hopeful, graceful, or affectionate, and my definitions of love are being mercilessly edited and rewritten. Goodbyes are another excuse to stumble over myself, to force out a few words and sprawl flat on my face one last time before I can escape. Every time one of us leaves, I don’t know if you’ll come back. And worst of all, I don’t know if I will be strong enough to return, myself. If I can handle being brushed off again. If I can stand up again, recite my lines, pretend to be in character whenever I act the part, pretend I am not furious and in pain and exhausted from the effort of keeping this mask held in front of my face, of standing tall even when thousands of pounds of armor are crushing and compressing my bones into powder.

I can’t carry this weight anymore. But deep in my gut, I’m still afraid that it’s the only thing holding me down, and that if I leave it behind, I won’t know what could be worth staying on the ground for. I don’t want your apologies anymore. I’ve stopped accepting them, not because I hate you but because lies have done so much damage now that we don’t need to put up any higher walls. Better for them to break and for the rubble to form pathways to someplace different. I will never help you rebuild them. I will not enjoy the flavors of late nights, or December breeze underneath the cool bark of willows in a picnic ground, or kitchen conversations without words anymore. But I can’t forget.

you may tire of me as our december sun is setting cause I’m not who I used to be

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