Buried

I'm getting out, and climbing back in. I miss feeling a thousand things at once, being headstrong, not being a full on adult. He symbolizes my girlhood, the one I gave to a black and white creature stuffed with softness. Oh... they're one and the same? That's is true.
I feel a little bad...
I feel a little bad for the one with the mortgage, the responsibilities, the one with their head on straight. The one with everything in place... who invited me in... but it's too restricted there. I've always said I wanted to be put in a glass case, on display, a soulless mannequin with nothing to say, a perfectly groomed, well dressed monster. There's no passion there. The trophy in the box isn't the same as the little girl with mismatched socks who also "likes fall." I'm tired of being someone's perfect accessory. I'm just glad we started out by explaining to each other exactly what we were doing together and why. Mutual using is an easy thing to get out of... the guidelines were perfectly clear. A meaningless partnership... two people... together out of spite. Trying to prove something to the past... they "no longer care about." Neither of us would be here if that were true.
My eyes are sore from crying, I hate when people catch me.
I hate when people catch me... I've been caught.

Goodbye, I'm sure you'll have millions of dollars one day.

The problem with giving your whole self away is that there's a price for it, but you can't ever pay it because you have nothing more to spare... a person requires another, the one they're giving themselves to. That person is supposed to give a small share to make up the difference. They pay the toll so you don't have to. So you don't do crazy things. Then you get to go down the road together. Otherwise you're stuck there, walking the way alone, a fool.



If you don't like me, don't look at me.

I was not meant to write tonight...

Dreaming fuzzily... and in muted tones

I watched the swirling clouds for awhile, woke up to the night, re-entangled myself in blankets, and woke up again, this time enchanted with the hours others pass through banally dreaming.

Hopefully one day this mess will all get sorted out. Things aren't always the way I planned them to be. I deal poorly with plans, especially the last minute sort.

I've said it before...I'll say it again. "Run, run, see if I care, see if I care (I do.) If you don't like me... then don't look at me... there must be somebody else who can take your gaze away. If you don't want me, you don't have to have me. I just thought you might feel the same. That's all."

I have to say hello to an old friend. And then I must go. I just stopped by to tell you that I'm going, ...it won't happen again. I swear.

Don't say I didn't warn you. Just don't say I didn't warn you..."Like a jealous little sister, when you had your time you spent it crying. I may be cold, I may be out of anyone's control, but I have my feeling of superiority to comfort me. "

You're drunker quicker... and you're sicker even quicker.... I was waiting for something to fall on you... so what shall I call you now? I will never say I told you so...but I knew, I knew, it was something that would happen to you. No, I told you so. I told you so.

I'm sorry if I have confused...anyone, but there is no person to which I am venturing through these waves for. I'm more of a floating island. I go where I want to, unencumbered by the fixed ground. I'll take company on my next misadventure...but please, don't try and set up shop.

The things you love. Why does someone always try and stop me from having the things in life that would make me happy? Have the pleasure of saying what you mean. To sum it up... maybe my weekend wasn't so good...

Aside from one detail I cannot mention in particulars however, it makes me glow and brim with smiles just thinking about. Sometimes life is kinder to me than other times.

So Happy

So Limbo. Saturday, what to do? Oh I know, but I have little desire to commit.

Shouting "I don't care" doesn't particularly convince me

You cannot call it your own. I always run circles up around in my head.
"A long, long time. Still you drive me out of my mind."

I hear the flucuations in the intonation. I know already. I always did. Lying is always a very foolish thing to attempt with me.

(But what street was she walking down?

As the street grew clearer, I saw it was in Paris. It was a boulevard.

And some months later, that first sentence finally became

"It was a hot, peaceful optimistic sort of day in September. It was about eleven in the morning I remember and I was drifting down the Boulevard St. Michel thoughts rising in my head like little puffs of smoke when suddenly…"

And I had to figure out - suddenly what? Somebody stops her, of course. The man she will fall in love with? Undecided. She's an actress and the man who stops her is an actor and they already know each other and they go to a café when suddenly again...

She sees her lover, an Italian Diplomat…." And I was off.)

-excerpt from The Dud Avocado, which was read by me....at age thirteen and had a profoundly negative effect on my overall character and person. The lack of morals is astounding, awe inspiring if you will. As a overt hedonist. I highly recommend it.

Well, it's a marvelous night for a moondance.....

Can I just have one more moondance with you? -a song that never gets old.



"Choke me in the shallow water, before I get too deep."



With the sun shining, she walks on petals onto the dizzying grain, picking up splinters along the way. She knows how to pull them out. -This is all that I have to say.Ooooh and I smitten by Earth Art.


Medicine Wheel, Stan Herd.

I'm still in love with Morrissey... And made out of glass.

The world is lazy, but you and me we're just crazy......I'm still in love with Best Coast too.

Can I make the sun shine today?
Call me psychic but posting something as blatantly as I did was bound to get me in trouble.

"If you have to tell people the truth, make them laugh, otherwise they'll kill you." - Oscar Wilde.

I'm forty percent paper mache.

I have to look like I know what I am doing, at the very least from a distance.... and I can manage that just fine.

So another monday morning.... and it's raining... but I have the new copy of The Paris Review in my hands... about to run and get the new issue of Art in America... so much for studying. It's gonna be a good day. Possibly...Possibly not... at the moment it's looking up. Hopefully the good mood will continue. I like my whims. They're so variant.

I wasn't joking about the paper mache.