...but a Sword

2011-02-26T02:40:00.000-08:00

I wonder, often, how you could be so cruel.
Such a disconnect in your voice,
(beautiful as it is)
while you sing songs of me
(of us)
and strum your fingers on my bones.
(percussion never sounded so good).

I recall days,
nights,
between your sheets,
between you and your soul
(and your inevitable guilt)
lingering above me, false,
(I'm trapped under assembly line roofs).

Those bones you played on
are on their own now.
Prancin halls,
painting walls
(growing thier own flesh).

Go ahead my Knight
(my Night)
and ride your amber bottle stead
to the next sunset.

The skeletons will play in the streets
(your streets)
with,
or without
your consent.

2010-12-31T11:31:00.001-08:00

I want to write movies like 'king's speech' and 'true grit'.
lovely, both of them.

2010-12-06T22:10:00.000-08:00

I'm not ashamed to say
that none of this feels real.
I can hold your hand
(and will)
and run with you
through whatever fields you like.

Dive in puddles
swim in faucet drips.

And nothing feels real
until it's over.

Tell me,
what is true?
If everything's a lie?

I've been everything
no one wants me to be.
I've been everything
I was told was wrong.

I broke my own rules.

And it didn't feel real 'til now.

The Boy and the Beach Drowned Chariot

2010-11-27T21:54:00.000-08:00

My ancient wooden wheels
are stuck in the sand, sunk
in the thick, wet would-be rocks.

Here I am,
immovable in you
and the vast desert shore.
No oasis, this, so I'll pitch
my camp here among
the Bohems and professional gypsies.

The routines stay the same
no matter where the tents.

Morning toothpaste smells
like medicine, but it culls
the night taste of
-last cigarettes
-stale booze
-and you.

Sand shifts and dances
like your eyes
your mood
your attention
and there's nowhere for me to go
without catching the shifting
drifting scent of
-sea salt air
-fish deep in water
-and your whiskey coffee lips.

I imagine that breath as a lure
hooking and catching
hearts and souls
like so many sea creatures
in the best homespun nets.

Does the squid know to escape,
when he is self aware
enough to sense that he's been caught?

2010-11-27T01:12:00.000-08:00

Maybe the Dark is worth it. To flirt with total desperation. To not jump from the cliff, but dangle your feet over the edge. Treat the unstable ground on which you tread like a tight-rope, one foot always in the air, ready to come down but not.
I can't fight it alone, but I can't:
create
focus
invest
if I ingest
all the pretty blueandpink tablets they keep handing me. So it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. Make up my mind to lose it so at the end of the day I'll have something to show and a decent story to tell.

I can do anything with my Darkness in tow. We struggle, we fight, and sometimes we destroy. But we're learning to dance instead. To give and to take.
I can be the hero,
Villian
I can be the lover,
Monster
I can sleep now.

Blessings (grudgingly)

2010-10-18T17:32:00.000-07:00

This one's for you, Sister.

1) I'm back in Kansas City
2) I am full of good food
3) My family loves me
4) I had a nap

There. Those 4 things are great.

bah-humbug

The Last Days of Judas Iscariot

2010-10-06T14:41:00.000-07:00

(Read this play, you won't regret it)

Cunningham: Okay, you say God made you-
Satan: God did make me-it says so in the Bible.
Cunningham: I know about the Bible, Mister Satan. It also says in the Bible, in...in Matthew I believe. In Matthew it says: "A good tree cannot bear bad fruit," correct?
Satan: Correct.
Cunningham: So are you saying that you are good? Or are you saying that God is bad?
Satan: I would never say that God is bad.
Cunningham: So, then, are you telling this court that you're good?
Satan: I don't know- are you good, Counselor?
Cunningham: That's not what I asked you!
Satan: I'm sorry.
Cunningham: Just answer the question.

Satan: I don't believe in Good and Bad. What I believe in is Truth.

So which are you, the volcano or the tornado?

2010-09-30T22:58:00.000-07:00

The cheap, wood paneling of this room should not have been painted, kind as the intentions may have been. The once cheery pink has faded to a sad, sickly grey-purple, leaving one feeling upset of stomach rather than comfortable.
I look around, taking in my surroundings and fellows. Everyone does their best to avoid eye contact with me. Some absently stir their stale coffee, others pick at scabs or dry skin. No one wants to see themselves, much less me.
A young man picks at loose pieces of tile with the tip of his scuffed work boot. He wears a thick leather braclet to hide the scars we can all see anyway. I don't even need to look at his arms to see the scars, they're there in his eyes. His self hatred is clear as day, what he sees as weakness is written across his knitted brow.
We're all here for the same reason. Well, they are, I'm an observer. And no, not in a 'I-want-to-be-Tyler' kind of way. Although, I am your Narrator.
The hands on the clock align and a kind of silence settles over the gathering. Fifteen or so young to middle aged adults straighten in metal folding chairs, the logo of the host church spray painted on the backs.
I wander to the back of the room, seeking a better vantage point. A woman in standard Bank issue grey rises and turns to face the crowd.

"There was a time, in all our lifes, that we were on the right path. We were not ashamed of who we are, or what we did. We are here in this place to find our ways back onto that path."
She pauses and looks around the room, I'm the only face she doesn't know and I lift a hand to wave, but she goes on.
"This is a safe place. A place free of judgment and hurt."
There is a pause as she lets her words settle.
"None of us need to stand alone. Who would like to share?"
The young man I noticed earlier twitches his fingers in a way that almost suggests the raising of a hand. He stands and the woman sits.
"Whenever a person talks about sex, everyone around them assumes they know what you mean. If I bring it up to my friends, they think they know what, or who, I mean. Same with family. If you mention sex, everybody thinks they know. Like, you can't talk about it without having had it. So to your people on the outside, bringing it up is like saying 'hey, my name is Jack and I'm a whore' or a user, or a slut, or a man. Sex is conquest and victory makes men. Someone told me that once and it sounded good, sounded fun. That was before I realized that conquest works both ways. It's embarrasing, having people think they know you. I try to be honest about who I am, who have been, but..."

The boy's fingers take on that same twitch, this time dismissing his words. His hands betray his voice.
"...but they don't know. I don't tell everybody everything. No matter how honest I try to be, it's not possible. I tell them one thing, they assume they know the rest. I dunno. I don't have a problem with sex, I have a problem with guilt."
"Do you feel guilty?"
The woman speaks from her seat and the mood shifts from a confession to a public therapy session. I scan the audience and every member is paying rapt attention. Someone to my left lights a cigarette and I lose myself in the smoke, wishing I weren't trying so hard to quit. I clear my throat and she blows her smoke away from me. I wish she wouldn't.
"I feel like I should."
"Can anyone else relate?"
Eyes roam about the room, none of the previous avoidance now. The smoking woman next to me lets out a long exhale through chapped lips, then speaks.
"You shouldn't feel bad unless you feel bad. Don't take on someone else's guilt to make them feel better. Sex is sex is sex, everybody does it, and if they don't, well...I can't even imagine that actually."
There is an uncomfortable silence. Based on how many people now swill the remaining coffee in their paper cups, I get the feeling it's not the first time this woman has spoken out. She drops her cigarette into my Dixie of cold joe and weaves her way to the door. She looks back over her shoulder at the young man.
"Don't let them tell you you're not beautiful."
I glance down into my cup as the stale liquid finally swallows the smoldering tip of her cigarette.

game face

2010-09-26T21:35:00.000-07:00

You wouldn't like me,
if you met me now.
I'm not that little girl you once knew,
kneeling down beside that pew.

Once upon a time
I was pale as white
only failure being blood from my crown.

I put on that face
and I smiled along
and you fed me my lines,
told me what to say.

And those words because faith
and that faith became life
and that life was a lie.

That life was a lie
the little pills told.

Pills I drank w. communion wine,
swallowed all the same:
lies, stories, 'truths',
and you.

I had a lot of fun,
living for you.

I've had more fun
running from you.

The narrow road
is a hunters path.
Do you see the way
thru the brush?
Do you see the way
thru the truth?

God, forgive me now.
I can't stand the sight
of who I've become.

You wouldn't like me now,
I'm not that little girl
on the narrow road.

the day after this one

2010-09-24T13:25:00.000-07:00

On the day after this one, maybe I'll learn. Maybe I'll cry. Maybe I'll finally let it sink it.
On the day after this one, I'll go ahead and talk, I'll really think about it, I'll 'deal' with it.
But, really, I'd rather not. I think I'll go ahead and keep on keepin' on (as it were).

Because there are those dark nights, those long silences when the pain creeps in, when the indescribable anger starts to boil up from the pit of my stomach. In these moments outside of time, I can feel my face burning, jaw clenching. I have nightmare flashes of my teeth popping under the pressure, shards of bone bloodying my mouth. Teeth, after all, are only bones pushed through gummy flesh.

I want to scream and I want to cry and I feel guilty because I don't. If I let it in, even a little, the old darkness comes streaming back in with it. Pain is pain is pain and I can't stand to lose the ground I've gained. So, for now, these bones are smilin'.

the dark storms

2010-06-16T00:27:00.000-07:00

I have to admit that the following is not of my own mind. Like much of the material here, it is derived from conversations with others. Sometimes, sometimes, the drunks can be so poetic.

"I find it hard to go out these days. I can't go out like I used to. All these people, all the people, just have faces. You know? They've got these faces and they're like tombstones. All their faces are tombstones and they're all dead. We're all dead.

I have these dreams. Storms. I can't sleep and I'm afraid of the storms. We're all there, we're together and we watch through glass windows as these storms come at us. I'm afraid of the dark ones. And there's nothing we can do, but wait. So we wait for these dark storms to come at us and we don't know if we'll make it. But all we can do is wait and see if the storms are going to kill us. But we're waiting together."

2010-05-02T17:22:00.000-07:00

I've got to put down Easton Ellis this week. I find myself wrapped up in Bateman's world and dancing the patterns of his thoughts. I look at the names on people's clothing. I find the labels as important as the beings underneath them. My speech takes on italics, sharp and demoralizing. Try not to show panic at the red soles of another woman's heels. Boots as good as business cards in this world.

I'm switching back to Foer

un

2010-04-04T01:29:00.001-07:00

I think that I realized tonight the differnce between the physical and the real. I feel as though I've been in and out of consciouness lately. Like, I'm awake most of the time, but rarely do I have REAL moments in which I recognize the reality of life.
Not all things are lasting. I was recently told that unless you write it down, whatever it was may was well have not happened. that is at once a terrifying and a relife. I can't decide if 'relife' is spelled right, I don't think it is.
My recognition happened thusly:
I was having an average day in which I can't quite recall what happened. Then, all of a sudden, I had a glimpse of what really was. I was at a bbq at Stana's house. Then, I was all at once aware, like really awake to what was happening. I was with the ones I love almost the most and I was really, really with them. I could tell that in a hundred blessed years, this moment would be one that I would talk about. And not in a 'this is completely awesome' way. Nothing particularly interesting was happening, I was just AWARE in this moment that this was a memory. These people were my people. This was my story and my loves were my characters. And much more intersting than any I could ever create.
It almost shames me that the only other moments I've had like that were when I was stoned off my ass.
It's not a secret.
And right now, I'm having one of those moments.
And they're infinetely more real and intersting when they aren't the fault of substance, but rather, the result of life itself.

Fooood for thought

2010-03-13T01:31:00.000-08:00

I just got home from work and I smell like and ashtray. I'm hungry, but it's 3:30 a.m, no way am I going to cook something. I'll eat this 1/4 bag of sour cream and onion chips, though it kind of bothers me to eat soured anything. I can compromise with these chips because they are delicious. Tomorrow, I am going to eat sushi. Again. "But Jessica,' you may be saying, "isn't sushi 3 times in a week enough?" and I say no. No, it is most certainly not enough. Tomorrow I will be eating delicious soosh from the amazing Umi's on battlefield. You are welcome to join me, 'cause that's where the best un-cooked seafood is. Well, in Springfield anyway. This springfield. Okay, this has gone on long enough. I need some sleep. And a shower. In the opposite order that that is written.
Also, it's a new goal of mine to be a guest on 'The Late Late Show w. Craig Ferguson'.
That is all.

Computer virus

2010-02-17T13:16:00.001-08:00

You were created by Apple weren't you? Just to make me want to buy a Mac so I never have to deal with you again. I hate you. I hate Marnie for bringing you to me. If I lose my writing (and it looks like you're a fan!) I swear on Dear Johnny (and he'd totally back me up on this) I will destroy you. I will hunt down your viral family. Your virus mother, your virus children, your estranged virus uncle, and I will kill them all.

One Man

2010-02-16T15:33:00.000-08:00

Coffee and cigarettes,
I'm dying in doses.
I know what I was meant to be, predestined futures are spun for us all. The family shows how to live, how to love, how to make ends meet.
And I don't wanna be saved,
(must be the way I was raised)
And sometimes I don't wanna get saved,
(Contrary to the way I was raised)
And I don't know what this is, but it feels a lot like Hell. But things aren't so bad. There're some pretty bright lights around here after all. After all.
I always smell like a bar.
Liquor on my breath just from sniffing vapor. There isn't really a road to where I am.
I want to say something beautiful, but find a lack of words. And a subject so vague, I could be excited about it.
The tallies on my arm are starting to itch. (Do you know what I'm counting?)
Where'd you go? Where are you? I'll pull your strings and bring this kite right back down. All the way down, here, next to me.
Don't fly little one, I can't.
So we'll make a Great Compromise
and walk side-by-side
feathers twined with fingers
on these dark, midnight roads
each of us with someone else who doesn't sleep.
'Cause it's not that bad, but one does want for understanding. The family paved the way, but I ran and lost the trail. It's a Kansas City Shuffle. They look left, you go right.

Okay, that's enough nonsense for now.

2010-02-08T12:35:00.001-08:00

Lisa is talking at me about how philosophy created the world so we should all hate it less. I don't hate it, but I'm trying to watch t.v

writeright

2010-01-29T22:02:00.000-08:00

I feel as though I've spent my whole week trying to capture something that is always on the tip on my pen. But, as with the whole 'tip of the tounge' debacle, I cannot find the right words. I don't even know what it is I'm meant to say. Something is there, though. I would almost hate it if it weren't a reminder I am alive. It's a bad night to be alone, but that's the way it goes. I'm counting the days until a vaction. The number still seems too high. Too high. hahah. (I guess I'm having inside jokes with myself now, great, that seems sane)

2010-01-24T11:40:00.001-08:00

This is what's in my brain:

2010-01-13T20:15:00.001-08:00

Why the hell is Naveen Andrews on Law and Order? Have you fallen so far, Sayid? I hope not. (3 weeks)

The biggest headlines today were the earthquake in Haiti and Conan v. Leno.
Conan ftw.

I'm watching local news and the fire department is practicing ice rescues in Lake Springfield. We have a lake?!? Why didn't I know that? Lakes are kind of hard to miss, right?

The sports guy is way too enthusiastic about high school sporting events. He's old and this is boring. There is no way I spelled 'enthusiastic' right. No way.

If I walk past a vending machine and there's candy hanging there, by the coils, I will for certain smack the hell out of that machine to get the candy. I don't care what it is. Even if it's Skittles. I hate 'em, but hey, Free Skittles. Put that in your Sprite and chug it.

I've been sitting in this broken, horrible armchair for the past 4 hours. Productivity fail, relaxation win. It kind of bothers me when I come home from class and someone else is sitting in my chair. Like, a lot. I don't know why, I've never claimed it really, just sort of thought it was understood that if I sit somewhere long enough in my bathrobe, that place belongs to me. My chair.

I was at the boy's house for 3 days straight, prompting Ferranto and Cole to ask if I'd been peeing there. 'Marking my territory', they called it. I said yes. All your boys are belonging to me.

Andrea MacMullen, better known as the girl who trashed the McDonalds in K.C, said that the girl behind the counter 'prompted' her to it. She got charged w. a felony and hid in her closet. 'They set her off'. The anchors are making fun of her and Lisa Rose (anchor) just laughed and lightly hit the male anchor in the chest while telling him to 'shut-up'. I think they may be sleeping together.

(c)here's to Everyman

2010-01-13T15:32:00.001-08:00

Rooms jammed full of faux intellectuals.
Yes, pretention, yes, education.
Let's push our glasses up our collective nose.
Wear houndstooth scarves
where we all smoke cloves.

Yes, I understand.
No, I don't agree.
Lean left 'cause it's cool
or rather, 'cause it's not.

We drink PBR on our off hours
and capture ourselves w. vintage cameras
held high above our heads
angled in mirrors,
solo.

Tweed jackets w. too short sleeves
sparrows on chests, exposed
thru bright neon V's.
And nothing's wrong,
nothings wrong,
our time is playing a borrowed song.

But cheers to that
'cause we're all goin' down.
Trust fund's up
S'best we blend.
Thin legs on fixies swinging
like our stretched out lobes
-but-
that's not so pretty anymore.

So stitch 'em up and grow a beard.
Buy some Av's or Ray's and a calculator watch.
Not that we care,

'cause we don't care.

Villiany to Romance

2010-01-11T14:49:00.000-08:00

Last night I died
and was not reborn.
The dreams I dream
make mothers mourn.

Tried to walk,
could only crawl.
The Ether man,
he shook my wall.

Closer now to sea
than ground.
Jump to see
my faith rebound.

Do angels fly
on wings of grace?
These nights have put
my soul in place.

Head in the clouds
feet on the ground.
Needles in veins
can't drag me down.

Not soon enough
Not quick enough
God, you need me?
Not enough.

There's blood on my hands
and sin on my mind.
In the end
what will you find?

The ghost of a Girl
that you once knew?
Gentle impression
of knee to pew?

Get off your knees girl,
Don't you dare.
Wouldn't advise
a gamble on prayer.

Thoughts of Jan. 11th, early morning

2010-01-10T23:05:00.000-08:00

There's something inside I wanna expres-s
There's a weight I wanna get lifted off this ches-t.
But you're all distracted and sidetracked
sidewinding thru this tide
And I don't wanna inte-rupt.
I don't wanna make things harder
not for you
not for you
not for anyone.
So I'll keep it inside
'cause I ain't that attention stealin' whore
I ain't that des-pera-te for your
fake love your
momentary adoration.
I wanna say
it
I wanna tell
you.
But I'm not gonna bring things down.
I don't wanna shift this mood
in my direction.

But there's this - thing
inside
and it pulls me: down down
and it turns me: 'round 'round

It's this worm
between my skin and flesh
and it eats at my clean bill of health
and it grows
fat on my fat
and it - l i n g er s
crawls
between my flesh and my guts
and it twines itself 'round
my soft palated organs
and sometimes it
leaks
from my nose.
and - escapes
on my breath.
in angry passive words
and dark agressive acts.

And it holds me tight like a lover
warm
on those cold winter soul nights

And that, at least,
is constant
and that at least
is relief

Dyonisus

2010-01-03T17:52:00.000-08:00

I can only think of myself as a conduit, a vechile, thru which some talent, some words, some greater works, so good more than myself must travel.
There are no original stories, there are no unique thoughts, but one person may be able to say or express things in a manner no one else is able. I think that this is my job.

For the Sister

2010-01-02T13:37:00.000-08:00

Day Two. I hate it.

All these things

2009-12-28T21:46:00.000-08:00

You were my King and I was your fool, riding home after school.

I wish I could finish that statement and not be stealing. Stealing from one of the greatest American Poets of our time. Of ever.

If ever you were wondering what to get me, if you were interested in buying me a gift, get me something Morrison. Something The Doors. He's fantastic. He was, the remaining members still are. I think, honestly, and i hate to be this sort of fan because i know what it's like to be alienated from the group, but really Jimmy dear was fantastic. Not to say that the other musicians were not talented, they are, but Jim made it happen. That sucks for the rest. I love Jim.

Every time I went to type 'jim' just then, i ended up typing 'him', what's that say? I don't know. I think I'm giving up on punctuation for now, i just cant handle it. grammer either. who know, maybe spelling is next to go, it's possible. it's likely.

I'm in my living room in my jammies (jammys?) listening to The Doors and having a drink. Who am i? Those in my day to day can guess. I'm not a copier, we just have similar taste. Mine is better.

hahhhahahha.

this is great. I think it's at this point i issue an apology to my sister and my body.

I tried to quit smoking, i did. it didn't take. whoops. I'll try again. right in time for those goosd old new years resolutions. Resolutions is a funny word, it can mean a lot of things.

It bothers me that a lot of people don't know that 'a lot' is two seperate words. I remember it from my 7th grade english teacher, i dont recall her name, but i know i was the last class she taught, she retired after that. we had a discussion in which she tried to get me to admit i thought she smelled bad, and then she yelled to the class that if she never taught us anything she at least wanted it to stick that 'a lot' was two words and not one. she was crazy, but it bothers me to this day when people type alot. it's almost as bad as addicting. NOT A WORD, PEOPLE. geeze

i am the l.a. woman and i am the twentieth century fox. also maggie macgill.

all of the above.
remixes are good.

Bowne

2009-12-23T00:46:00.001-08:00

I've got this problem, see.
I can't sleep. I can't sleep. I can't sleep.
Everything you've heard about it is true. When I can't sleep, I think too much. But not in an aware, cognitive sort of way. More like a stream of consiousness.
More like this.
I also am having trouble typing because one of my fingernails broke off today and it's grossing me out to hit the keys with that finger. It's the middle of my right hand, so kind of important.
In the scheme of things. You know, the grand one.
I feel like I've been making progress, but I'm so unsure of most things. Like, it doesn't take much to make me doubt a lot of things. For example:
I'm out of town and out of touch and because of those two seperations, I feel like an unanswered text means so much more than 'I'm a boy and I'm playing video games with other boys' In my restless head it translates closer to something like "I'm a boy and I hate you. You shouldn't have done that thing you did."

Problem:

I don't know what I could have done. I mean, I've given all of you ample opportunity (and excuse) to head for the hills. I don't know why you would now. But, but, but, I'm insecure and emotionally retarded so to me everything means something when, in reality, it all means nothing.

But then, saying that sort of downplays your own emotional abilities, which I know are not that stunted.

What I'm saying is "Am I wrong? Have I done something wrong?"

I know it's an old, annoying question. And things may have gotten to the point where my breathing irritates you, so pointless questions are probably not going to help. But, but, but, that's why I'm writing this here, and not on your phone. Why I'm keeping my paranoia to myself and not putting it on your mind.

Thanks for playing.

i am obi wan

2009-12-20T15:22:00.000-08:00

I cannot explain what it is that I feel. The only way I can tell you how I feel is, and God this is silly, but, and I only say it this way because it's a cultural refrence that I think will make sense to you. So, yeah, I felt a disturbance in the force. Oh man, that's ridiculous. And now, I mean, this doesn't mean in my own deranged mind. This isn't something that's changed in me. I feel this change outside of myself. Like, look, I woke up and, I'd only been sleeping for a few hours. 3. 4, maybe. And it wasn't a dream that woke me, it was a feeling. Something changed and I woke up, startled, just sat up and couldn't sleep again for a long time. This change was something, something physical. It wasn't a mental thing, not a thought, not an emotion. It was something real. Something has happened to someone. I don't know what, or to who. It felt, masculine, somehow. It happened to a male. I don't know who. Father, brother, one of you. Something changed with someone. You, Ferranto, Landon. I don't know. It's bizarre and I don't like it, but there it is.

dialogue

2009-11-18T09:37:00.000-08:00

Have you seen the accident outside? 7 people took a ride, 6 bachelors and their bride.
Are you lovedrunk on jim again?
Again
Try this one, 'the moths and atheists are doubly divine and dying. we live, we die, and death not ends it..' Where are you? He was a great man. Dance it off, you'll be alright.
Love it... I need to buy his books. Lol, sorry if I'm keeping you up.
It's okay baby, we know how well I sleep. I got one today...be jealous
What's one? Damn I would be going crazy in my bed if andy wasn't sleeps.
Oh you crack me up, American Dreams. Why'd you get so drunk?
BC that's when I really enjoy, when I really can see him
I want to experience this with you sometime. I want to see what you do.
Once I had a little game, I like to crawl back in my brain, I think you know the game I mean, I mean the game, called go insane.
You want ecstasy, desire, and dreams. Things are not exactly what they seem. You're too young to be old. You don't need to be told. You want to see things as they are. You know exactly what I do. Everything
Run with me, run with me
Let's recreate the world. the palace of conception is burning for it, for you, Look, see it burn. Bask in the warm hot coals
Why the obsessed? Why am i?
I don't know why you are. Old memories for me, and aspirations. I love words too much not to love his. The pictures, the stories he makes. Everything visceral and sexaul and alive.
Yes
Yes to all of my reasons? Well, I'm glad to share them.
I just have a part of me that wants to drop everything and follow, shit this sounds so dumb. sorry.
Not dumb, impulsive. Follow what?
Idk, I'm just in love, sometimes, most times I feel like that all I need is this, jim, and everything else is whatever.
In love with Jim? All you need is love, as the saying goes. I just need that and ink, nothing else is real....who do you love enough to follow?
Lol you can have it. I know I'm just being stupid. But drunk Landon wants him,n wants to understandm wants to be brave enough.
Drunk Landon says much more than the sober one, so what have you got to be brave for?
Everyone looks for someone to look up to, but I never have, but I guess its my time.
We all need heros. Go back to sleep. 'Slip into unconsiousness...'

2009-11-16T19:47:00.000-08:00

I can now not stand to be in silence. The things I once so admired about myself are slipping, shed like lizard's skin. I am still content to be alone, but my mind gives way to lonliness far more often than I like to accept. My words and thoughts, fragments of malcontentedness are spread over so many notebooks, applications and scraps of paper it is getting harder for even me to keep track of them. My calendar still reads August and directions to someone's house (I forget whose) are still written on my mirror. Though they cover my face in the mornings, I haven't got the strength to erase them. I seem to have a standing date with failure. I don't know why. I hate this 'disease' this modern 'disorder' I hate the weakness it breeds in me. I want nothing more than to sleep, and yet am terrified to do so. The nightmares are back. Wicked and bloody and too bold. They tell me too much of what I already know, unspoken fears manifest themselves in my grey cells. I wake with sweaty hands and a bloody mouth. I feel sick all of the time, guilt over God knows what. Surely I've committed no such sins as in my sleep. Thus, concious does make cowards of us all... I'm sick to my stomach over what I have not done, what I should not have said, and what I did not say. I don't know the answers to all these silly questions. I plague myself. I cannot be alone and yet I want the company of none.

I'd hate to forget

2009-11-02T13:04:00.000-08:00

It went basically like the few rough drafts below. "I can keep doing this, I can do anything, but I won't. I don't want to anymore, which is what makes this time different." I said most of what I wrote below. "I don't know why you keep coming back to it..." It isn't any of those things, sometimes I just miss it, miss you. I'm still not saying no, but be sure the next time you ask, you know why I'm here. I know, I haven't been fair, I'm sorry. Watching you struggle thru all of this, it's hard, we're here for you.
All in all a success. We'll see how long it lasts.

Reasons I am tired

2009-10-30T00:12:00.000-07:00

I am tired being 'there for you' when you aren't for me. I am exhausted by your inability (or refusal) to return my investment. I spend so much of my time worrying about you, about whether or not this is worth the pain only I seem to suffer. Yes, this is presumptous, yes, this is selfish. I know, and I'm sorry.
But I'm tired of having to apologize everytime I have a reaction. I'm so tired of feeling wrong. This doesn't matter to you. I hate being the only one who has to fight. Fight for whatever it is we're clinging to. Moderating the fight between my mind and my heart. Yes, this is dramatic. I know that too. But really, at worst this stresses you out. Poor thing. I sympathize but I feel like I'm holding you back from what you want to be, who you want to be with and that's not fair, but more to my concern, I'm holding myself back too. Not from some great mythical joy, but from feeling anything other than hurt. Or anger. I don't want to do this anymore and I wont. I hate having to sacrafice my friendship with you, or the others, but I cannot, will not, continue this. I don't have the strength. And I don't know where to find more. It doesn't seem to matter to you, to affect you at all, and here I am, beating myself up over it all. I'm tired of being the one to blame. I don't know if your silence is cruel or kind. You will let me walk away and it won't hurt you at all. In fact, it's probably somewhat of a relief. It must be. That's the story.

For Mr. B

2009-10-29T15:43:00.000-07:00

Look, can I just be totally honest with you? I swear that this isn't the same talk we've had a thousand times, it may seem that way, but hear me out, this one, this one is unique. You are one my best friends and as such, time with you is one of the things in my increasingly dreary life that makes me happy. But that goes for all the boys. Whatever happened, happened a long time ago and I'm not, like, waiting around for you to fall in love with me or something. The only reason that things went the way they did was because I was afraid of losing you. Of losing this friendship we've tried to hard to salvage. And yeah, sure I'm still afraid of losing that, of course I am, but the longer I stay here, in whatever limbo this is, the more I lose my mind. And friend, I love you, but I love me more and I gotta find someway to be sane again. I'm coming at life with all this baggae and excess and dark shit and I don't wanna do it anymore. I'm not even talking about the physical slipups we keep having, the mistakes there. I mean, I know why I keep letting that happen, why I keep encouraging that. You're not stupid, you know. But, I can't figure out what keeps you here. I don't know if you're bored, or lonely, if you just wanna feel like a man, or what. But you treat me like a convience. Like, when you need a warm body, for whatever your reason is, I know you don't want me, but I've told you a thousand times I'd never tell you no. I don't know why you keep coming back to it, and frankly, if it's any of those reasons, I don't wanna know. I could be wrong, hope I am, but unless you correct me, I'll assume I'm not.
So, I gotta go, I can't keep doing this to myself, keep humiliating myself for you. You'll ask me to leave eventually so it might as well be on my own terms.

Things to Remember

2009-10-27T22:26:00.000-07:00

'I have to read my phone, you can wait'

Of course, darling, I'm always waiting.

'I meant, you guys...'

Not even on the back burner anymore, eh?

'Shutup, that's not what I meant'

All of this is of course covered in smiles and laughter, but I didn't want to forget all the clever little quips and rude asides. All in the name of friendship....

(S)he's a Brick

2009-10-27T14:47:00.001-07:00

And I'm drowning slowly

Look, I'm need to get my self figured out. But, I can't do that until I get this resolved. Not because it's all encompassing or enveloping, but because it's the one thing that I can pin-point as wrong. It's the one thing that I know, I know is helping me ruin myself. I have to at least address this before I can focus.

I'm tired of being miserable, and you my darling, make me just that. As much as I enjoy spending time with you, all of that time, it's makes me joyless. I feel nothing most of the time. And you cure that. Not just you, of course, all my boys here. This house, the people here make me happy and alive. It's a hard thing for me to find nowadays. But, you also make me feel so bad. I can't keep doing this.

I know that there's no going back. I know I can be exhausting. I know that. I exhaust myself.

But

I need you to hear me out, and if you have a reaction, anything, any words at all, I'd die to hear them. I need to know I'm not talking to a wall here.
There is no return to whatever it was and I'm pretty sure we wouldn't go back even if we could. I know I'm not them. The Click, Worth Your Time, Blitz, any of them. And I know, and appreciate that I have a seperate part of your life. It's that that I'm afraid of losing. But I also know you're never going to make me worth your time. You are never going to hold my hand or take me to a movie or tell people about me. I know and am doing my best to accept that. But I'm so conflicted. I don't want to keep losing bits and pieces of you, not to them, not to anyone, but not surrendering those same parts is killing me.

Fucking daggers, right?

As happy as it makes me to spend the night in your bed, on your couch, in your arms anywhere, I die in the morning. When you leave to answer the phone, when you roll over in your sleep to answer a message from someone else. Don't you see?

I meant to start all of this with something else. I meant to tell you I'm in love and I hate you. That's all there really is.

You All E'v'body

2009-10-21T19:35:00.000-07:00

"You are everybody. In some area of your life, you are a killer, a crook, a liar and a whore. You are a genius, a god and pure. You are everything. There goes a man who is going to be killed. There goes you. Somewhere, you are that man."

Deadlines and dedications

2009-09-17T11:28:00.001-07:00

I know I play it off a lot, but everytime we have an 'event' it does stress me out a lot because I think of how many months this has been drawn out. Point is we HAVE to finish it. That may mean we can't drink around each other for awhile. idk.

I know. I don't know what it is. Why I keep fucking up, because that's all that's happening. Mistakes compounded for way too long. I want to talk about it, but don't know what else to say. I'm sorry doesn't even begin to cover it anymore and I'm beginning not to see a way out.

But I understand if you are going through a rough patch right now, and as a friend I'm here to lend an ear.

God, why are you so nice about me? I appreciate it. And I'm sorry I've been hurting you with this. I'm not as nice. In all honesty, I just feel as though I've been using you, using this, as some sort of comfort. Sick, right? But I can deal with that about myself, but I see now that it, that I am hurting you and that's the last thing I want.

I wouldn't have brought this up unless I was really worried about our friendship. But you don't need to say sorry anymore. It's just at that point now where it's either we end the friendship or we end the problem. I hate to have to say that.

But you're right. Didn't we say this? Were not those the tears? You're absolutely right.

Romance and Villiany

2009-09-08T19:26:00.001-07:00

As much as I profess to be unloved, to be unloveable, I find myself drawn, attracted, in-in love with you. All these generations of needless professions. I cannot survive as so many hopeless romantics have. I have not the will, the strength, the endurance to live without your lips being the last on mine. Your tongue the last I taste. Your heartbeat the last I hear. I cannot bear it, to live without you. Without you as my own.
And so I go on, alone, not yours and yet never my own. I stagger on in solitude toward some empty colony of unwanted souls. You, my uncompleted masterpiece, along my side in thought only. Never in life.

Goddesses and Others

2009-09-02T21:07:00.000-07:00

I find myself coming to the realization that I do not believe in love. And without that, what else is left?

I find my self lovable, I simply do not believe in the love our generation is so set on. Something glamerous and commercial where even the fights are heightened and extravagant. Something that makes even the most hated aspects of someone shiny and bright and tolerable. A Hollywood sort of love. There will always be something you cannot tolerate, cannot forgive. It is niave to think that your vision of love will erase that. It wont and you're being foolish.

I want to write my memoirs if only because there is so much I want to say and no proper outlet for it. I can't deny that I live vicariously through the fictional characters that I create. The shadiest and darkest of which only see the dim light of reality through this partcular outlet.

There's a strong woman with a decent story in there somewhere. There has to be. It isn't me, but I cling to the hope that it is someone I can model myself after.

I sink like a porous stone, slow and full, like the discovery of some hesitant new species.

What is it about pain that inspires creation?
What suffering must our gods have faced to shed
such life-bearing tears?
Madness surely provokes Art.
And so,
with glowing rod of personal torture
pressing into my Temples,
blood speaks
and makes
volumes of the times of men.
Thru insanity,
elevation,
before the End.

2009-06-26T20:47:00.000-07:00

Not to start a conversation, but tonight was good, tonight was progress.

Agreed. Hard, I know, but progress seems to be.

Very, didn't want you to leave. I'm just being ridiculous. Female attachment is all. Sometimes I feel like nothing short of your mistress.

Don't it's fine. Maybe we can get somewhere this time.

No, it's a role I'm, oddly, finding some comfort in. But you're right. Just not always sure I want to move. Does this sort of honesty still fall under the 'good bold' category? I think I'm getting a bit dull.

Ha, good bold indeed, my only concern is one of us getting hurt.

Ha, darling, if there were a risk of hurt, that ship has sailed. Exclusivity and titles aside, the relationship part already happened. What else could hurt? It's the worst, cleanest, breakup ever. The each of us moving on part is the only pain left. Am I wrong?

No, no you're spot on.

2009-06-19T21:57:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I find myself not believing in love. Like, what if it really is some made up thing perpetuated by adults too stubborn to let go of the fairy-tale they grew up with? It very well could be a lie; Santa Clause was. The Easter bunny was. Tooth Fairy, ends of rainbows, unicorns, dinosaurs. Love could be like that, something we grow out of once we finally grow up and grasp that something so supposedly profound, so unique and otherworldly and yet so very common can't possibly be more than a nice story.

I think all of that sometimes.

Then I look at you.

(And love and life are redeemed?)

Yes.
(Yes. Of course)
Yes. I want to be common. I want to share that drink that all the world thirsts for. And it's you.
(Me?)
It's you. You break me.
(Torture?)
No, no, it's good. It's a good way. Diminished doubt and childish hopes even into adulthood. It's fantastic. You. Are. Fantastic.

Oh stones

2009-06-17T11:10:00.000-07:00

I just think I might be caught up in a very beautiful boy.

I'm in the 3rd

2009-03-10T10:35:00.000-07:00

grade again.

your fingertips across my skin
the palm trees swaying in the wind
images
you sang me spanish lullabyes
the sweetest sadness in your eyes
clever trick

i never wanna see you unhappy
i thought you'd want the same for me

goodbye my almost lover
goodbye my hopeless dream
i'm trying not to think about you
cant you just let me be?
so long my luckless romance
my back is turned on you
should've known you'd bring me heartache, almost lovers always do

we walked together down crowded streets
you took my hand and danced with me
and when you left you kissed my lips
and told me you'd never ever forget theses images
-a fine frenzy

In a dream

2009-01-07T15:50:00.000-08:00

'I had a dream, Eric. And this was not it. I never wanted to be in your place, but I had hoped for a life more acceptable than running from the headhunters. I'm not a good kid Eric. I mean, we never have been good kids, but growing up made it that much worse. See, we're a selfish lot. Us, our neighborhood, our breed. Beyond selfish are my mistakes. See Eric, this is my long overdue drunken confession to a brother.'

'You're not bad little one.'

I can only really laugh at this. What of me does Eric really know? We haven't spoken in years.

'Not true brutha. I don't focus, I run. I don't love, I run.'

I only bring up love because Eric's been flashing around his wallet full of photos of his new girl and kid. Sentiment and alcohol have never been good to me.

background

2009-01-05T18:42:00.000-08:00

So, Eric, the best I can figure it's about the girl.
Girls.
Right, yes. The girls. Plural. I'm an asshole.
Yes.
Yes.
So, you took a girl from the sons of each side, Russ, Uptown Irish, and I-tals. Wifes, nonetheless. You stole the hearts of their wives-
And daughters.
Okay, their wives and daughters. And with the hearts, I imagine there was a bit of cash as well, eh?
A bit, yeah.
You are an asshole.

I can only laugh at this. It's true. I guess I should have put it all together on my own, but honestly, some of these girls (and their mothers) just slip my mind. Really, none of them were really worth this much of a fight. But then, I would say that, wouldn't I?

Brutha

2008-12-22T11:38:00.000-08:00

I use this opportunity to slide Eric's draft closer to me. I drink, I think.

How's this to be decided, then?

The usual way. An issue of finances. You're a pretty high end prize, for once.

Yeah, well.

There are a lot of people lookin' for you. West End dogs, I-talians, our boys, I even heard a rumor about the Russians?

Ha, yeah, the russians. I almost forgot them.

I have to laugh at that, the Russians. Ha. They hardly count. A misstep with a climbing soldier's daughter. It's always someone's daughter.

You almost forgot the Russians? They haven't forgotten you, in fact, last I checked they're my highest bidders.

You're really gonna sell me, then? Your brother, your friend? Are we forgetting all those times I covered your scrawny paddy ass?

There's a moment of awkward silence here and I can feel the boys behind me reaching for their heat. I'm pretending not to sweat, it's all for show but a reps a rep and I've got mine.

Brother Eric. Do we remember?

Of course little bro. Of course

Here is the longest pause in my life.

Little bro? I can see you sweating. You've got the same tell you always have.

My fingers twitch, looking for Clarice's trigger, but she's not here. Neither of us move for the longest time, then Eric breaks one of his giant shit eating grins and laugh laugh laughs like the maniac he's always been.

Little bro, I'm only having a laugh. You're fine, you're safe, you're welcome here.

You little piece of shit, I hate you.

Don't forget to breathe. Have a drink. Let's talk.

The bar scene

2008-12-21T17:29:00.000-08:00

in this town is lacking that certain sparkle it had when I was a kid. I'm meeting Eric on his turf. I haven't been safe here in years. Even with your best boy leading the gang there's only so much he can do to hold back the rabid pack of those who'd like to cash in on my bounty. There's no way to get around it, I'm not welcome in my hometown. Can't say I blame them.

Eric's already waiting when I trip into the bar. He's eying me over his glass of dark while his soldiers pat me down. They take Clarice. I'm not happy.

Eric, how's it been, brutha?
Not bad. Brother.
Fill me in then. What's the news on me?
Why should I know?
You know everything Eric.
You flattering dog. You haven't changed. How's Angel?
Who's Angel?
My ex. Your girl. Angel.
Oh. Right, right. I don't know. Haven't seen her around in, hell, months.
You bastard.
Yeah.

It's at this point I realize Eric's not in an informative mood. I'm wondering why he agreed to meet me if it's not to help me. I think I know.

Eric, are you gonna kill me now?
Kill you? No, brother, I'm not gonna kill you.
Who is?
That is yet to be decided.

The cut on the roof of your mouth

2008-12-18T10:45:00.000-08:00

I've planned to meet with Eric, my associate from days and days back. Eric and I went to grades together, were practical brothers and learned the tricks of the trade side by side. Eric's one of those kids who fought and fought against the system. He runs it all now. Even though he has his rep to keep up, he's agreed to meet with me. It's been along time since the brother not brothers have sat together. Probably has something to do with his last girlfriend, hell, his last few girlfriends meeting me. The grapevines tell me there's a new one around. I don't think he'll introduce us.

This is what I'm thinking about while I'm grabbing my gun and cash and praying the fire escape will hold my weight. I'd take the front, but hotel management seems to be having difficulty settling their deal with the Wops. My head must be pretty expensive.

Eric, Eric is waiting.

Bleeding from the Gums

2008-12-17T19:21:00.000-08:00

I keep a bowl at my bedside to spit in when I cough it up again. The blood, I mean. The point of this is that i don't have anything to spit in here. I'm in this shitty little dogtown hotel for a few days while I wait for some heat to die. Everything about the place screams Paddy-lice. I step out of the shower and my unwashed, threadbare towel smells like bad Italian food. This catches me off guard for two reasons. One, no one wants to smell old lasagna so early in the morning. Two, why would a Paddy fuck hotel towel smell like their arch enemy the I-talians? This is bad news for your anti-hero here. If the Pads and the Wops team up, my little game is over. I thought i'd be safe here.

I was wrong. Time to call in the team.

monologues

2008-12-01T14:23:00.000-08:00

are more fun to write than one would think.

"You flinch back from me, as though my very hand would brand you.

Are these fingers poison then?

These lips drip lead in place of words,

This forked tongue curled behind serpent's fangs?

Is this what you see? It is him.

No doubt you're warned these tears are farce,

this pain a practiced melancholy.

He is a prophet foretelling the past,

a silly magician's parlor trick!

Go then,

before I further sear your flesh with these

all too filthy palms.

Remember though, I would sooner scratch

out mine own eyes, than put a single fleck

in the corner of yours.

This body is of no use to me now.

Blood does not boil and bubble

as the inexperienced will say,

rather, it flows in communion colored rivers.

Too much liquid for so small a vessel.

Streams of this from self opened arms will spell my innocence."

Oh Boy(s)

2008-11-26T12:52:00.000-08:00

As time wears on, I find that there are a certain number of people in my life that only want me on conditions. There are these terms to our 'friendships' that I don't necessarily agree with, but then, who am I to argue. One does get burnt out on that after a time. So, one goes along, plays a long because something is better than nothing.

There are these boys, silly boys who will only have me on the condition that I belong to them. Silly boys.

Then there are those who will only tolerate me when they're other friends, particularly their girlfriends. In private, or rather the public that doesn't include the GdotFdot. At a party, let's say, I walk in, looking how I look and there they are, drunk usually. And they yell, and they smile, and they pick me up and swing me around press me to the wall and tell me how much they love me. "The things I would do to you if I were single". Look at that. "You shouldn't tease a girl".

Speaking of teases...Well, at least I'm aware of it.
In direct contrast with those who want me in combination with alcohol and other friends are the ones who want me around in public only. I know I'm being used, just let me know what for. Girls are particularly apt to falling into this category. We're friends when someone needs to be jealous. We're friends when you need to cry. We're friends when no one else will tolerate your bullshit. But, when the one you really want comes a-callin'. Well, that's my cue to find a nice drunk boy at a party. Innocent flirting and mutual ego boosts. That's what I like to call college.

10 things

2008-11-13T20:29:00.000-08:00

Ten things I hate more than most other things (right now):
10) Rolly Backpacks
9) Internet courses
8) Small, dirty children
7) Flirty couples
6) Sexual tension I'm not involved in
5) Over actors
4) Children
3) Televangelists
2) White kids with dreads
1) Billy Mayes

2008-11-12T12:38:00.000-08:00

I would that I had the strength. I can't keep falling, but what's there to stop me? Or, who? No one, nothing. There's too much that has to happen and no time to spare. Am I a glutton for punishment? This seems to be the case.

Oh dear

2008-11-04T15:56:00.000-08:00

The fall is always a sad time. All that dying. It's beautiful.
Sometimes I wish that once, just once, I could wake up next to someone who wasn't hung over.

Know Thysituations

2008-10-29T16:57:00.000-07:00

"It isn't heartache, babe, it's lust. There never was emotion to it. "
oh
"Didn't you know that?"

Memory Loss

2008-10-26T08:24:00.000-07:00

I forgot the revenge part. That's always the best part.

So, after the fight, I get a call from a boy (of course) and he's mad I went to this party because I was supposed to hang out with him and he doesn't party. I'm much to tactful to say it, but he doesn't party, what's he expect from me?
Anyway, one word leads to another and now I'm being lectured about being 'one of those girls'. Really? Are we going there? I, above all things, am decidedly not one of those girls. I inform him of this. He disagrees, I hang up.

So, so, so

I see this boy last night. He tells me about his week, his work, his brother's hurt ear, and eventaully nicely inquires about my arm.

I tell him. In detail. Excruciating detail, about the night his big brother drunkenly ripped open my arm. Poor, misled, lied to baby brother. He thought his elder got hurt at work. That's what he told him. Baby brother questions everything.

Shattering fragile worlds is fun. Baby brother asked me if I 'even know' who I am. I do. I'm not one of them, but I am terribly vindictive. I hope his home life isn't too tense.

Sasha's sweet Revenge

2008-10-26T08:09:00.000-07:00

So, look, I know there are certain things you don't say or do to (or around) certain people, we all know that. But it's only a rule because it's so fun to break.

I got in a fight. Well, I got in the middle of a fight because alcohol makes my heart bleed for the innocent.

I went to a party. It was fun, all is going well, and then two meat-head, dead weight of society types start pushing each other around. Okay, look, this isn't Sasha's party scene. This is a garage full of 'tough guys' wearing their best (and probably only) Affliction t's. The girls are, well, you know the type. So we're in the garage, music blasting from the lifted super duty ridiculous whatever truck and these two kids start fighting. The smaller (but still quite large) one has an earring. Yes, it's those people. I swear my attendance was endorsed and re-embursed in one way or another.

Okay, Earring takes a punch to the side of the face and suddenly he's not wearing an earring anymore. Ouch. And hilarious.

Huge guy goes after notearring again, but this time Earring's very, very small girlfriend decides it's a good idea to break them up. Of course, the liquor in me is not about to see this small thing get destroyed. Sasha stands up, Sasha joins the fight, Sasha realizes she's not that much bigger than the little girl. Sasha looks for an exit.

I grab the little one and at this point the beer in the spectators starts pumping and they decide to give me a hand. Who knows, maybe it wasn't the alcohol so much as the sight of two very little, very lost girls in the middle of the mess that got them going. Either way, next thing I know Petite One and I are concentrating all of our powers on moving her boyfriend up the stairs and into the house while the boys hold back the Monster.

One problem: Earring is a boy. Boy's are proud. Boy's don't run from fights. So what does he do? He spins around, grabs my arm to get leverage and rockets himself down the stairs again. Taking of course, a large chunk of my forearm with him.

I left shortly after that.

Why she stays

2008-10-23T20:12:00.000-07:00

Bruises like tattoos
fade but never dissolve.
A Body broken, broken, and broken
with a Spirit to match.
Heart abandoned long ago.
The Mind is all that remains
but with disuse it too fades.

She is not one of those
weeping doe-eyed girls
staying out of some duty,
some desperation to save man
from his own nature.

She is not one of those
accepting this narrow field
as the world in whole.

And yet she stays.

Love deserved, accepted;
and what right has she to earn?

She eats and eats and eats
to feed the soul
starving the body.
What use is one lacking other?
False matrydom, this life.

Only girl in the boy's club

2008-10-20T11:28:00.000-07:00

I think this should be archived for posterity.
(verbatim texts, spanning from saturday night, the 18th to sunday morning, 19th)

WB: Are you going to drink?
J: Your plan sounds brilliant.
(after a long night)
WB: Have fun at work.
J: Oh god. I just dropped Landon off. Time to clean Sarah's house. Did momma call you?
WB: Oh no, you must now dropped him off?! Guess no hunting. No, she hasn't called.
J: Okay, I haven't heard from anyone either. I tried to wake Lan earlier, but he was having none of it.
WB: hahah, yeah he was totally gone
J:Probably best he doesn't have a gun. Poor thing is hung the fuck over. Deadly combo.
WB: What time do you get home? I want to watch pushing daisies
J: 7. I don't wanna go home.
WB: Ha, you can't avoid it forever. My arm and hand hurt. Did I do anything that would hurt my hand last night?
J: No idea love. You didn't jump in the fight.
WB: Yeah cause I'm a pussy. I was just thinking how much more fun last night would have been if we were 'bad' kids.
J: If we were bad kids I would have gotten stoned and laid last night.

(Hours later)
J: My arm looks like shit by the way. We found more blood on Landon's clothes...when we found Landon's clothes.
WB: Haha, oh yeah, I forgot about that fight.
J: That fight? Wasn't it the only one?
WB: I don't know! I forgot about the fight in general.
J: Oh shit. Found my pants half buried in the couch. What does this mean?!?

Sasha suffers identity crisis

2008-10-16T16:12:00.000-07:00

Maybe waning would be better.

Here I sit, oddly obsessing over what I don't even want. What it boils down to, I am confident enough to admit, is that I want the attention, not the boy himself. At least it started that way, it always starts that way. But, attachment to the attention leads to attachment to the boy leads to an awful sense of jealously when he plays to her whims and not my own.

I have too many boys on strings to be staring at this picture so often.

It's odd though, I only want him to want me, I don't actually want him. This makes sense, right?

It's not about the boy, it's just about the boy.

Shit. No, no, no.

What was a dangerous possiblity, a beautiful potential for mistake, will stay that way. It must.

This imagining, this use of Deskey in my art, my work, is too dangerous. The thought of risking the thought is too much an pulls me out of the moment. I will not.

Sasha fights the GossipGirl

2008-10-14T19:45:00.000-07:00

Oh, hey now little one, little girl. You are tempting me something fierce. Tempting me to punch your stupid face, for one.

But no, we're a bit more subtle than that aren't we? Females as a whole, I mean.

There's this little one, young girl. It's not my fault that she's terribly insecure. I'm not the one who messed up her last relationship, but if she doesn't cut it out, I'm sure as hell gonna play with this one. Sometimes it's so hard not to become what people seem to want to coax out of you. She's sad that she'll be lonely, and sure, I do have a history with her beau, but really, it's not my fault and I've done nothing to deserve this behavior. Little girl needs to watch her attitude.

Here's the story in full:

I was at a party this weekend past and I know some people who know some people so I'm having a pretty good time. Soaring, soaring around the room. Little girl intercepts me, looking for a share. Well, I'm having none of that but am feeling so so generous. I add that we should be real life buddies or I'll start to get suspicous that I'm being used for my connections. She elevator eyes me and consents to my joke. Grudgingly. Then she wanders back to her boy. Her boy who used to be my boy. Now, I'm feeling good, good enough not to be walked on. So I call her out. One thing leads to another and now Little One is covered in my drink and I'm tottering on chipped heel. Little One.

Little Girl hates that her boy is sleeping with his ex again. Not me. The one before me. I mean, she doesn't know, none of us know, but still. We all know. Now, I've been there before, exactly actually, so I sympathize. But come on, I'm not doing anything wrong, I've done nothing to encourage bad behavior from the boy, but if she keeps this up, I may.

Like I said, it's awfully tempting and showmance is awfully fun. All I'm saying is that (by no choice of our own) the boy and I are going to be spending a lot of time together. If Little Bitch doesn't get her shit together, I may have to indulge. At least then her attitude will be well deserved.

Sasha meets Nature

2008-10-12T15:28:00.001-07:00

Went camping for the first time in a year last night. Wonderful, simply gorgeous. No matter how jaded and hard, no matter the number of adaptations on the Deskey conversation, last night made up for it.

I am no fan of cowpies. I don't like spiders. I'm not one to get particularly dirty or enjoy sleeping with sticks in my back.

I got standed in a field on a gasless atv while looking for a cow corpse. I jumped off said atv when the driver took us through a spider web. We spent the next several minutes shrieking and jumping around, checking each other for the rogue arachnid. I slept tentless, under the stars, by the fire and woke covered in ash. We all stink, we all look like hell. But. We all have variances of the same memories. We have smiles in the photographs. We had fun and we had each other. I woke up sooty and cold and damp, but I woke up, my hand in his, surrounded by Beauty and his people.

Sasha gets the last word

2008-10-07T12:06:00.000-07:00

Deskey, oh Deskey, how modern of you.

Modern? You mocking me?
Yes.
Why?
It's easy.
You're so sweet.
Now who's mocking?
Me.
Sure enough.
Why're you such a bitch?
Can't say for sure.
So far removed.
So it would seem.
So it would be.
Clever. Turning the words like that.
You would know about that. Turning things.
Tricks, you mean? Yeah.
What? No, words.
Those too.
You're so full of it.
Ouch, love.
True. You act like you don't care, that you're so worldly and experienced and twice-removed, but you're the most involved, thinking, coniving, actor, I know.
Excuse me?
You act like nothing hurts, nothing matters, like it's all some huge joke and you're the only one in on it. It's not true. You hurt, you cry, you do this so no one will see it.
How insightful of you, darling.
How modern of you.
You think you know? Who I am?
Yes! Yes, I do.
You think because you're here now, with me, when no one else is, that because I let you stay, remember your details, that somehow you have this 'in' and you get me?
Yeah, that's what I think.
How arrogant.
You're one to talk about arrogance. You sit there all high and mighty and untouchable, pretending you're better than all of us.
Am I not?
Are you kidding?
Rarely.
Shut up.
There's nothing to be done about it.
You aren't so hard. You know that? You get soft. I've seen you tear up and turn away. I didn't say it, but I've made you cry. It's that much more of a power trip when I do. Because you pretend no one can do it to you.
Shut up.

Sasha talks politics

2008-09-30T12:39:00.000-07:00

Who says the mother must be good? What is it in she that demands 'good'? She is simply woman. The mother is nothing short of her own person, sometimes indulgent of her flaws. Why must 'mother' and 'woman' be differnt than 'man' and 'father'? These are not so different. Gender and breeding play their part, but what more? The woman is the mother is the life. She cannot be good always. She is a person and she is entitled to her faults, shortcomings and life. Because she gives life, is she not also right to take it, direct it, dictate it? Her own and others. She can be a bad character, and a more interesting person.

today was

2008-09-29T17:41:00.001-07:00

rough. Acting is hard.

Femme Fatale

2008-09-28T21:56:00.000-07:00

There is something inherently dangerous about being a woman. Whether it’s danger to you or simply the danger you offer, it’s there. And what’s the difference really? If he can get off just by claiming the “she was asking for it.”? We all know it’s true. No matter how liberal, how feminist, there’s always that small, quietly screaming voice in the back of your mind that asks what she was doing dressed like that in such a shady place so late at night. The woman serves the man. Protect him, protect his rights, protect his reputation. Even if it costs you your own.

But I won’t get ahead of myself.

What I’m really talking about is the danger we offer just by being born our gender. There’s something mysterious, seductive, risky, about most women. It’s bred into us from the start. It can get a girl into a lot of trouble. You wake up one morning and forget to look right, fill in the wrong blanks, and bam, it’s all over. There’s the questioning, the confusion, heartbreak, god forbid- the tears. Yours of course. Because a smart woman keeps a few of those on reserve at all times. Even if it’s your fault, you forgot to check the glass, if you cry, most guys will feel instinctive guilt. It comes in handy. Cry for Michael and he’ll forget the issue instantly.

It’s all a bit silly, really. They don’t care about you, no more than you care about them. It’s pride, I think.

It’s all about being born a woman. You can’t win, so you might as well do your best to just play along. When you’re driving and get cat called at the stop light, don’t get pissy and fly a bird; that’s no way to win. Look over, smile, pull down the sun glasses. Give those hicks something to whistle at. The power is in your face. The power is in your control. Let the boys yell, at least they’re distracted while your hands grab the wallet. And the wheel.

Sasha goes to a wedding

2008-09-21T20:48:00.000-07:00

Every one from high school is fat.

I went to this wedding this weekend and I highly suggest them as ego boosts to those who have managed to keep their slim figure through the post H.S years. I ended up at this 'show' through a work relation with one of the Bride's younger siblings and, well, it's a long story really and it's not this story.
Brother 1 (my date) was playing usher and sat me in the back (far from the family) with Brother 2's date. Or, as he put it, "My brother's latest casual sexual encounter". Nice. Bride looked pretty as a princess. She was in the pop crowd when we were tweens and with all of her old cronnies present, I couldn't help but feel like she was treating this like the best prom ever. Only, she's the only one in a nice dress and she just got voted queen.

The reception was down home small towntastic. 5 kegs of Natty Light and free Franzia was a-flowin'. To set them apart from the rest of us, the bridal party was drinking out of extra large Mason jars. All the pop girls changed into thier cheetah print party gear for the dancing. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Dancing didn't come until after we'd eaten to 'blotation' on catered hamburgers and hotdogs.

I didn't dance. But I did get to sit next to girls from my old class and catch up on all the gossip. For the record, 4 of the 7 girls at the table are expecting, 2 are engaged, and 3 (total) know exactly who their baby daddy is. Like I said, free beer.

Tattoos

2008-09-18T21:42:00.000-07:00

When you have a tattoo, people seem to think they have a right to look at it. Or worse, know what it's about. I cannot tell you how many times I've been standing in line at the grocery store, minding my own business, balancing my organic soy chocolate milk and my vodka when I feel someones cold clamy fingers pulling down the edge of my shirt. It's bizarre. Like, hey, how are you? Your hand is in my top. What the hell is wrong with you and do you plan on buying my drinks? By the way, I'm Sasha. Nice to meet you.
It's like these kids didn't learn basic manners.
Look, okay, I have a tattoo, you have a tattoo, we're brothers on some level, sure, but we aren't that close. You have a coy fish and chinese symbols. You're white. You'll live in this godforsaken town for the rest of your life. I have ambitions, motivations, I aspire to things greater than what are refleced in your rockin' dragon tat.
The point is this: stop touching me.

Bedside table

2008-09-17T17:14:00.000-07:00

I can always tell who is laying on my left side by taking a quick glance to the right. It's all about the cup. Heavy glass Deskey with the glucose design? Landon. Black and red mug? Michael. Half empty whiskey glass? Andy. It saves a lot of awkward moments of confusion. Just make sure to wake up to the right, check the cup, roll over and with a flirty, sleep in my voice smile, "Morning (name here)." Follow up with an ironic, "How'd you sleep?"

Each cup says a lot about each boy.

Andy and his whiskey. Just imagine what kind of guy wastes that much alcohol every time he's with me. It's not like he gargles the remainder of his nightcap in the morning. And let me just say, Andy isn't cheap.

Michael using a mug. Who knows what that says. He's a little simplier maybe, but I'm biased, I know. Hearty, perhaps.

Deskey. Oh, Deskey. How modern of him. Does it help that it's only water and that he reaches over me to sip while he thinks I'm sleeping. I need this boy as much as he needs me. Which isn't really very much on either side.

So, the leason? Always look right first, things will be much less awkward if you fill in with the right name.

2008-09-14T18:28:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning and realized that I was not late for work. I also realized that I was in bed alone. This is unusual.

I'm studying acting, and I mean, you've gotta get the lifestyle down first. Haven't been sober in a few days. I'm working on breaking some records here. How long has it been? No.Idea. It's hard to have a solid idea about much these days. For obvious reasons.

Palin

2008-09-11T20:53:00.000-07:00

asks that we respect her teenaged daughter's choice to keep her child. Palin also says that she would "veto a woman's choice to an abortion even in cases of rape..."
Right, we should definately respect her family's choice and support her plans to deny us the same choice.

I

2008-09-10T19:45:00.000-07:00

would like you all to know:
I love you as best I can