Obviously Underwater

2011-03-22T07:16:00.001-07:00

Let it matter.

2011-02-14T07:06:00.000-08:00

"They amputated his head?" I have to ask, and the moment it leaves my frickin lips I realize that is obviously NOT what he said, unless he is a retarded person who can't speak English, and he just gapes at me with this mock horrified expression and then goes, "Bobby, oh my God, where did you get this girl? LEG, mija, they amputated his LEG."

Which is horrible, I realize once what he is saying registers in my brain, this is a really tragic fucking story. So this guy works at the zoo spraying around inside the monkey cage with a big fuckin water hose to clean shit and piss offa the rocks and stuff and one day outta fuckin nowhere all the monkeys go fuckin PSYCHO and ATTACK him and they bite him so bad he has to AMPUTATE a fuckin LEG.

See, what I like though is he's got fuckin stories to tell and a way of tellin em but also an EMOTIONAL way of relating about everything so we can really get into the heart of whatever we talk about. Every time I see him I feel happy to have him around just because he's such an awesome person to me, because really there is nothing like a person with some good fucking conversation skills.

I like that I have a good handful of people in my life who I always know I am CLOSE to, that we can just be open and intimate about anything in the world.

I want to live life like a flower with her petals open just basking in the sun. That sounds kind of corny maybe but I mean it.

"Look at the world.
Look at the world in all its grandeur and all its horror.

Let it matter."

~Lucy McCormnick Calkins

to laugh or to cry......

2011-02-01T12:44:00.000-08:00

So I was in the bathroom at my friend Evelyn's house and there was this magazine on the floor that said, "Look twelve years younger!" on the cover and I was like, "Ha, how about no? I don't really want to look TEN."

But then I thought, "Wait, Bobby would probably be happy about that actually."

But since nobody in that house really ought to know he's a pedo cuz they would probably FREAK OUT, I had to keep my little joke all to myself.

*sigh*

.

worst guessing game everrr

2011-02-01T12:32:00.000-08:00

Bobby comes home and snuggles into bed with me with these guilty words, "I have to tell you something. I lied to you. It's horrible. You're going to dump me. You're never going to forgive me."

"You're not really allergic to pineapple?"

Awkward silence. And then, "No."

"You ARE going to become a child molester?"

"NOOO!!"

"You stuck yer dick in some random chick and now yer worried you might be infested with something nasty?"

"NO, worse than that!"

"You think I'm ugly."

"No, you're beautiful."

"Come on, I'm pretty resilient, just tell me."

"I caaan't! It's really really bad."

"That's it, whatever, fine, don't tell me, I'm already mad at you anyway for being mean to me in my dream and telling me I'D MAKE A HORRIBLE BUSINESSWOMAN."

"That was just a dream!"

"I'm really mad at you right now, leave me alone."

"Okay okay I'll tell you."

"What."

"Remember your bedtime story? I lied. She doesn't get hit by a train in the end. She actually manages to burst through the sound barrier again and makes a shitload of money with her sister for discovering time travel. They become rich."

"Awwww! This is good. But yer still in touble for being an asshole in my dream."

"Oh my God."

best part of the bedtime story:

when she gets attacked by an angry mob and they break her wheelchair so she has to run away to save herself, and hides out in a dumpster. At which point I have to stop him and ask, "But Bobby, why would she be in a wheelchair if she could RUN AROUND?"

"BECAUSE SHE'S LAZY! Now are you telling this story, or am I?"

"Right, sorry, carry on."

2011-01-29T08:57:00.001-08:00

I dunno wuts better, the fact that me and LeeAnn are in palm springs and at eleven we're gonna go make our own SQUIRT GUNZZZ, tan at the pool, play on the waterslide, relax in the sauna, and then spend the whole day going to museums and art galleries, or how healthy we will be eating all day so I won't have to cry at the lack of vegetables in my life.

.

2011-01-29T08:56:00.001-08:00

cheesecake makes everything better. I woke up at like six in the frickin morning cuz my stupid cough and sore throat and stuffy nose were making it impossible to stay comfortable. But then I had some cherry cheescake, and for a moment all was right with the world. Then I put the cake away and hawked a loogie and my taste buds went from "Yesss!" to "God no!", but still.

.

2011-01-29T08:55:00.001-08:00

How shiny and bouncy and perfectly manageable is my hair right now? I FEEL LIKE A SUPER HOTT GODDESS OF SEDUCTION!!!! Don't worry Rodrigo-- I mean, he he, Bobby-- it's all for you. Aaaallll for you, babe. I love you so much.

*grabs a handful of her luscious hair and waggles it at you like a maniac, tickling your face. "Healthy hair, healthy hair!!!!!"*

.

one of us is out of touch

2011-01-29T08:52:00.000-08:00

"There are two levels of not caring about what people think of you. One makes you a badass, and the other one makes you a lunatic." ~everythingsucks

Maybe I'm really just a moronic off-kilter loser but I like to call myself liberated and non-conservative. I think it's fuckin great if a guy wants to walk around in public wearing nothing but high heels, fishnets, and skanky langerie. And if I want to walk around all day wearing a fake mustache for no particular reason I can't help but say I kind of resent anybody who freaks out about it and cries to me, "What are people going to THINK if they see you like that???"

If I'm at Walmart checking out in line, emptying out my little basket, and I take the basket, put it on my head, knock on it and say, "HEY!!! LEMME OUT!!!" like I'm in jail that is me being silly, and nothing to yell at me about later because it makes me look like a retarded person with no sense of how to be "normal."

Don't tell me I can't wear my donkey hat when I'm in public with you either.

Don't tell me that it's stupid for me to think Lady Ga Ga has the right kind of balls, wearing the most ridiculous outfits ever. I don't really like her music, honestly, and I don't know much about her personality, but fuck, I like her sense of ADVENTURE when it comes to fashion, why does my loving the freedom and artistic expression of this hold no value to you at all? Why do you have to be so narrow-minded, man?

I love that you're a racist homophobe too. That's fuckin awesome.

lyrics to my newest song in which I play badass guitar

2011-01-11T02:24:00.000-08:00

he says to hold on to the one thing you've always got:
the life that courses through you.
I wish I didn't get so scared and overwhelmed when I ought to be fine.

Do I have to be a damaged person all my life?
When will I ever be free?

Oh you know it happens again and over again
my mojo dies on me
In a world of light I wrap myself in darkness and become numb

.

2010-12-13T01:22:00.000-08:00

I bought myself these magnet letters so I could write cool stuff on the refridgerator. I should paint them with glow in the dark paint!!! The other day, I put up: "D-RAY = AWESOME". Except the second A was an upside-down V and the first E was a backwards upside-down 3 cuz I ran out of letters. And then I left to go do stuff in San Diego for awhile and when I came back up here, Joe had fucked it all up, like the typical bitch-hole ass that he always is. He made it say: "DUH-RAY = LAME".

I took it down and put up: "DEZI
ROX"

Because I DO rock and people oughtta take note. He better not fuck with my magnet letters again or I swear I will go get my little bottle of silver glitter and just sprinkle it all over him. Glitter is a thing I threaten people in this house with since I wear it all the time and they all get pissed off that somehow THEY end up being glittery all the damn time too. And I'll yell at him, "WHO'S CRYING NOW, SISSY PANTS!!!!!"

.

2010-12-13T01:02:00.000-08:00

What I love about being an artist is the stupidest stuff can happen to you but lead to the best inspiration for some creative idea. It makes setbacks seem more like new opportunities and life in general more interesting and layered.

fear

2010-12-01T01:07:00.000-08:00

There's something warm and beautiful that we say with our eyes before he tries to put it into words and I shrink away into a world of vulnerable insecure loneliness.
It's different with each person, the way that you run. What they draw out of you and what you hold back.

But the worst kind of running I think that I do, is when I run from my own fucking self. Until reality just slaps me in the face and forces me to open my eyes and grow up already.

2010-11-30T06:31:00.001-08:00

Hi-lights of Hanksgiving:

Sean's story of getting maced by an old lady

Free pearl bracelet--score!!!

torturing Heather in unmentionable ways

Rum and coke w/ LeeAnn: "You help me, and I'll help you, and together---we'll almost be one person."
"It's a figlent of yer immagration!"

Hi-lights of Saturday night:

/bumming money offa Bobby's dad: "Can I give you this fake money in exchange for some real money?" Handing him a wad of fake cash and a plastic gold coin. Getting 8 bucks out of it. (Yessss!!!)

My awesome pg-rated strip tease in which I humped a lot of people's faces, whipped Danielle with my belt, and managed to make pulling socks out of my bra and throwing them at people seem sexy.

realizing that Paco and Andrea are the perfect, most adorable couple ever.

Discovering the glory that is Ketel One vodka.

Hi-lights of Sunday:

Apparently Jennifer is "muffining out" of her skinny jeans? Anyway this means I get all her old cool pants. They make me feel HOTT!!!!

falling in love with Duffy McFluffy the pillow-pet dolphin

Tidbit and Yum Yum -- A Blossoming Romance?

2009-09-30T22:53:00.000-07:00

Yum Yum is a girl shark and you can see that she is very beautiful. I made her to be a companion for Tidbit, my stuffed boy shark that my friend bought me. Tidbit was always humping my leg and the furniture and stuff and I just thought he would be happier if he had a girlfriend. They haven't met yet cuz I left him in Vista and I'm in San Diego right now, but I'm going up there for the weekend and hopefully they will hit it off. I'll put up pictures of them together maybe if all goes well.

2009-08-20T13:17:00.000-07:00

I walk outside into the cold breezy night with my shoulders bare and the chill feels kinda good. I'm looking up at the sky, just above the sillohuette of all those trees where the moon is glowing bright and full. And I'm alone just the way I like to be. I'm free.

I need my personal time where I'm absolutely only focused on the beauty of nature. It helps me clear my head, gather my wits about me, refresh.

He said the other night, lets go look at the stars. I told him it would only make me cry, it wouldn't work. But then I got drunk for days until I didn't care about the sadness anymore.

I will be a healthy person soon. Somebody who doesn't get this low. I never understood before, that so much agony in life is avoidable if you think smartly. I never understood it on this level, with regards to all I'm going through. I am learning how to keep myself happy and safe and in theory it's easy but in practice when you are stuck in stupid patterns of self-destruction it is a real trick.

But ultimately I have so much love and power in me and I'm okay.

2009-07-24T11:45:00.001-07:00

"What kind of things do you think are worth writing about?" I ask, sitting in the computer chair staring at the screen feeling frustrated because I don't know what I really want to say about anything.

Blue is not very helpful. "I don't know," he answers absentmindedly, and I look over at him loafing on the couch with his legs propped up on the coffee table, watching tv and playing idly with his limp dick which he's got hanging out over his boxers and his pants. "Kaylen says she's on her way," he informs me.

Ah well. I gotta go. Things are happening. Sorry for not writing as much lately. I'll be back, I've just been busy and stuff.

scummy slag

2009-07-16T01:17:00.000-07:00

"You have a lot of explaining to do," Bobby says, wondering what exactly happened.

"I'm retarded," I tell him.

"You're not retarded," he answers with a sweetness that catches me off-guard because I don't feel as if I deserve it, and my heart breaks because it's so nice to hear but such a fucking lie. I can't believe he doesn't say one judgemental word about me in the whole conversation. When I'm so ashamed and I feel as if there are a thousand things he could say to make me look bad.

How can I explain? It was hot. I didn't have a shirt on, just my bathing suit top and jeans. I had my houndstooth duffle bag and my leapard-print backpack and a courdoroy purse with me, I was gonna get on the coaster and travel back to San Diego so I could visit my family there for a couple of weeks, give my dad his Father's Day gift and attend my sister's birthday party, while I finished driving school and took care of some money business with my dad and the trustfund. So I'm walking in the sun and this guy stops me in his car and asks if I'm alright.

I don't even know what that means when he says it. Why wouldn't I be alright? I'm fine. I'm walking along, going my own way, and I don't really need to be bothered by anybody. Sure, it's hot, and my bags are heavy, but I'm super tough. I like the suffering. I'm happy. I tell him it's okay and he stills puts on such an air of concern. He offers me a ride, as if it is a heroic deed.

I'm like, "No, thanks, but you could be a murderer and I wouldn't know. Sorry. It's very nice of you to offer though. I just don't feel safe." I smile at him in a friendly way and it's all wrong, it makes him brave when I want him to shut up and drop it and leave me alone. It's my way of being polite but he simply sees me acting available. He tries to talk me up. For some reason he feels the need to tell me that his father is a very important man and also that he has very clean hands. And I think he says some stuff about how he's like, a good guy, and I ought to trust him. I can barely remember now. It's totally lame. It's not like he charmed me in the slightest. I have no idea what persuaded me to get in the car except that he wouldn't leave me alone and I got all curious and reckless and stupid.

At first he puts on like he's actually interested in getting me home, he makes a big show of stopping off at the transit station to ask a security guard about how I can get to San Diego, although I don't see the point of it because I already know myself how to plan my trip, and he's made me keep my bags in the car because he says he'll just give me a ride to the other station later after we hang out a small while.

So I end up in some motorcycle shop feigning interest in this fucking bike he's got for sale there, still without my shirt on, and his friend who works there asks why I've got glitter all over my face and body, and I tell him it's actually the last of my glitter and I desperately need to get some more, and it really gives me pause because I'm kind of addicted to being sparkly at all times and I secretly start to stress out about how I am going to find myself a shop that sells glitter dust. I make a mental note to get more glitter as soon as possible.

He wants to have a drink. We end up in some oceanfront bar and he says I can have anything. So I order probably six random things to get my full alcoholic experience. I am not really enjoying this man's company too tremendously but I don't really expect to and I'm just kind of amusing myself by being happy for the hell of it. I'm still not wearing a shirt. All this guy talks about his how rich he is, and how sexy I look. Over and over, these are his two main topics of interest. I'm the biggest fucking idiot who ever lived because I do NOT want him as my sugardaddy and yet that is obviously where this is headed and I'm losing my options for a way out with each hour that passes by because once it gets dark I am going to have a shitty time trying to get home.

He decides not to give me a ride to the other station after all, but to molest me in his car while he drives drunk to another bar where he was supposed to meet with his friends. He's popping my boobs out of my suit and fondling them with one hand while the other is on the wheel, and he tells me I have the most amazing tits, he keeps using the word "Areola" to talk about my nipples, it makes me sick but somehow seems funny so I don't shove him off, I tell myself it's all fine, it's nothing, it's not really that bad. Then he tries to feel my pussy and I'm like, "NOOO!!!" But somehow he gets in my pants and he's poking around but he doesn't actually get IN my cunt but he's feeling all over it like the most giant pervert in the world telling me it's lovely and talking about how I am definitely tight.

Then we're at that other bar which is set up outside, and he leaves me alone for ten minutes while he's off I have no idea where and I never meet his friends, I'm sipping Stone ale and talking to some chick next to me about God knows what and the sun is shining all around and the day seems like it will never end. When he comes back he says we're gonna go have sushi at this nice place. I put on my big ti-dye "I'm Fresh" t-shirt before we go in the restaurant. The conversation turns to various ex-lovers of his. I watch his fat fingers grabbing at a bunch of huge shrimp on his plate and he stuffs it all into his slobbery fucking greedy mouth and I realize I'm done with this man and it's time for us to part. So when we go back to the car I ask about my going home and he makes a phone call but then apologizes because apparently his limo driver is too drunk to come pick me up and anyway he wants to take me to get high with his friend won't that be nice?

When I say I feel kind of vulnerable and scared about being with him anymore he gets angry and refuses to understand what I am talking about. He starts chewing me out saying when we get to his friend's house I'd better act normal. I ask if I can make a phone call because my cell phone is broken, and I call Bobby to tell him I'm not dead so he won't worry about me. I almost feel better after that but I know it's going to be a bad night anyway after all the sexy bullshit I let happen. He's going to try to bone me and I'm going to have to shut him down which will piss him off. And I don't know how I lost my shirt in the first place but when we go to enter the house he won't let me put it back on because he says that fucking shirt makes me look twelve years old and I have to go in there all exposed.

There is a sweet Mexican lady in the house with a cute little baby and a very hostile dog. His friend is very old, and tall, and skinny, and white. He takes me with his friend to some other dude's house where I see a lot of money flash around and his friend apparently buys the guy's boat. While we're waiting for the guys to finish their paperwork I'm alone with my kidnapper, whose name is Abe I forgot to mention, and he's telling me about how he misses cuddling with his ex-wife but he had to dump her because she lusted after cocaine too hardcore and he thought that was trashy. I offer to be his new cuddle buddy, because I like to cuddle, but I don't feel any true affection I am just trying to pretend I care about this man to make myself feel warm inside instead of sick and sad. He brightens up though, he really does, he seems so pleased that I am offering love.

So we light up with his buddy when we get back to the house, and then Abe and I are sitting on the couch stoned and he's sharing his dreams about being my sugardaddy with me, talking about the way he's going to throw his money at me, how I'm going to be taken care of, and the Mexican lady offers me coffee and a shirt. It's good coffee, Columbian. The shirt is probably made for a pre-teen, it barely fits and it's itchy, it's this long-sleeved silver and blue striped sweater thing. But I wear it in the hopes that it will give me some kind of dignity. I try to drink my coffee and feel fine but I am in the worst mood ever, I have to run away to the bathroom and cry uncontrollably in there, thinking about how I am stranded with this horny old guy and it's all my fault, and there happens to be a house phone in the room so I pick it up and call Bobby again, but he doesn't answer so I cry into the phone leaving a message about how I'm a hopeless moron, and then I go back out there trying to breathe easy and act straight but I just look at the Mexican lady and burst into tears, and she's asking what is wrong with me, and Abe tells her I'm tired, and then he tells her I got very drunk earlier, and I try to play it off like I am just some over-emotional dumb broad, and I try to smile and tell her I'm alright, and we rush out the door with Abe wanting to kick me in the face. And he drives me to some shitty motel, promising to take me home in the morning, angry with me for being sad, chewing me out like I am some sort of unappreciative brat after the nice day he has tried to give me. I refuse to take off anything but my shoes when we slip into bed which annoys him, and he keeps trying to grope me everywhere but I grab his hands and push them away rather coldly every time. I think about what a fucking pea-brain I am for allowing myself to be put in such an uncomfortable position, for being so unrealistically carefree. I can't stand the thought of him trying to touch me in my sleep so I stay up all night pushing him off while he tries to fuck me over and over and over and over and over and over again. When his lips are on my face he gets his spit all over me. He calls me a disappointment.

Oh, and he calls my boobs his twins. I'm like, "They're not YOUR twins!" and he's like, "Okay, OUR twins." And I'm like, "NO!" but I'm laughing histerically at him for totally missing the point. And he's not amused in the slightest. Seriously, he's really peeved that I'm not putting out because he knows all of his dreams are shot, that I'm not ready and willing to be his little sex toy. At least he's not a rapist though.

As soon as the sun comes up we're out the door because the tension is so fucking high we can't even stand to be near one another anymore. The whole ride home is painfully silent except when he asks for directions to my house, and it takes more than an hour to get there so you can imagine the level of awkwardness. I feel like there is nothing to say, like if I am friendly he will just want to bone me more and if I am mean he will just drop me off in the gutter to die and there is nothing to do but sit quietly and stew. He fiddles with the radio a lot, barely ever settling on a song. For a moment I am happy when he picks a tune by Simon & Garfunkle. When he drops me off I go to my room and get stoned to calm my frazzled nerves. Then I call Bobby and he is wildly worried and I feel like the only thing worse than hurting myself is making somebody who cares about me watch me drown and I don't really know how to apologize for anything I just hope maybe in the future I might be able to manage to look out for myself a little better.

oddness

2009-07-16T01:03:00.001-07:00

So I just bought this awesome necklace for only fifty-nine cents, it's got the most amazing pendant, it's a little plastic rock that glows neon green pretty much all the time, except when it's in a super bright environment it seems kind of pale, and there's a real dead bug trapped inside of it. A REAL DEAD BUG! I'm wearing a dead bug stuck inside of a glowing rock around my neck! It looks very cool. It is my new favorite thing. You should all be super jealous.

ugh

2009-07-15T13:33:00.001-07:00

So I let this creepy rich old guy kidnap me the other day and it was horrible and I started crying that I wanted to go home but he bitched me out. And I ended up stuck sleeping alone with him in this fucking hotel room out in the middle of fucking nowhere and all night, over and over and over, he kept attempting to seduce me. And when he rode me home finally in the morning, we had such an awkwardly quiet and cold angry vibe going on between us, we wouldn't even speak to one another at all even though the drive was more than an hour long, he just kept fiddling with the goddamn radio while I stared wistfully out the window. And every once in awhile he would look over at me and just sigh this really fucking pissy sigh, or I would look over at him and sigh a pissy sigh of my own. And when he let me out of the car in front of my house we could barely manage a pleasant goodbye. So now I'm in my room smoking the weed he gave me and feeling a high amount of self-loathing. Fucking Christ. I am such an idiot.

2009-06-12T09:23:00.001-07:00

"Try to point my finger
but the wind
keeps blowing me around
in circles"

-A Camp

2009-06-12T07:44:00.001-07:00

"Please put on some make-up," she begs me,
and then a few minutes later she's coming at me with this bottle of perfume,
spritzing me by surprise before I can move out of the way and escape
with this godawful overly-sweet cheap musky scent
and then she COMMANDS me to wear heels instead of tennis shoes
and when we're in the cab she makes some comment about fucking me later
and I'm like, "Dude, no, I'm seriously not fooling around with ANYBODY anymore,"
but she's like, "We'll see" all snobby like she's got seductive powers I can't even resist
and then later she's got me in bed with this dude who
I told her repeatedly already I DID NOT want to have a threesome with
but they're both touching me and telling me to join in
and finally I'm like okay whatever and I give him a kiss
and when she starts talking saying something stupid I'm like,
"You know what? Shut up and suck it,"
and I force her mouth back down onto his cock and watch her choke.

God I hate that girl.

Hannah

2009-06-06T21:46:00.000-07:00

"But I want a nap!" I say begrudgingly but with a gentle loving tenderness to my voice, waving her off as I loaf in bed with a pillow over my face. She wants me to play around more. I'm like, "Can't you find a way to entertain yourself alone?" She tells me there is nothing to do but maybe eat some brownies or something. Which sounds kind of stupid to me and I get a little bit concerned. "This is not good!" I tell her. "If you can't find a way to fight boredom on your own, you just won't have as much fun in life."

She tries to get creative, decides to let me nap for a little bit and while I rest she makes up a scavenger hunt. So when I wake up she hands me a note with a hint on it about where the next note is, and I have to search all around the house for these silly notes, one after another, while she is at my side rooting me on. And finally I get to the last note, which will lead me to my prize, and I ask her what the prize is and she says, "ME!" and holds her arms out wide like she just has so much in the world to offer and I tackle her with a big hug. On the back of the last note it says, "Thanks for coming over". Which I find rather sweet.

.

beat you with a wet condom water balloon and make you deep throat it

2009-05-30T15:05:00.000-07:00

I'm waiting at the sex clinic, this time in Vista, with my new poet/writer/sadly dark and deep thinker friend Sabrina. Kaylen is getting herself felt up by some old lady nurse in a doctor's office somewhere in the building and Sabrina and I are just sitting there in the waiting room watching the tv they've got hanging up high in the corner of the room and it's tuned to some ridiculous celebrity-obsessed channel.

"You know what I just realized the other day about beauty?" I say to her. I like this girl. I could tell at first she was afraid to like me but I acted super nice and friendly and made her laugh and suddenly she warmed up and even told me personal heavy stuff about herself without my even probing. So we're in this comfy place with our conversation and she's interested in hearing me go on, looking at me sweetly and listening. So I go on.

I'm like, "If EVERYBODY was beautiful, beauty wouldn't even matter at all. I mean, you'd be with some guy, and he'd be like, 'Hey, you're totally perfectly supremely hotly sexually alluring and everything, but so is this other chick I know like absolutely to the maximum degree too, and she's really cooler than you as a person, so I'm just gonna go with her.' I mean, beauty wouldn't even score you anything above anybody, the most important thing would actually be YOUR PERSONALITY. So really, the only thing that makes beauty so important in this world is the fact that not everybody HAS beauty, which is totally bullshit because the idea of beauty is only a matter of perspective."

"You know, that's true actually," she agrees with bemused enthusiasm. "And what is ugly really anyway?" she ponders.

"I know, seriously," I say happily, glad to have somebody with me on this.

This whole thing dawned on me when I was listening to this stupid country song the other day, sung by this flawlessly unfairly cute chick, and she was going on about how some guy rejected her for another girl who was probably totally pretty and she was whining that she never made any real deep connections with anybody and she just wanted love and she wished that guy cared about her. It came to me, I was like, Oh my God. This girl is gorgeous but her looks failed her in the end, they weren't enough to earn her anything truly substantial in a relationship with a dude. Why should I ever care about not being hot enough when the truth is there is no such thing as being hot enough. Being hot is never enough on it's own to get you anything but a cock for a night if you're even interested in that kind of lust. I'm not going to fucking torture myself anymore with shame about not being the most lovely thing to ever grace the eyes of man. It's just shallow for me to think along those lines. No more, no more. Beauty is great but it's not what keeps the world turning. Love keeps the world turning. I'm holding onto love and I'm letting go of my physical desperation to be super appealingly orgasmically babalicious. I'm just going to revel in what really counts, my awesome sexing SKILLZ. I'm going to think about what there is to DO in bed, how it FEELS, what it MEANS. I'm gonna focus on being a hot fuck and enjoying my body as a tool for pleasure. That's what matters.

I say, "I mean sometimes I get insecure about my looks but I just have to remember it's stupid."

She tells me confidently and upbeat, "I'm happy with my looks, really, anyway." And this totally surprises me, to hear somebody so content to be in their own skin when everybody I know seems to always be so unsatisfied with their appearance. She goes on to elaborate about how she's totally fine with all her various parts, she makes a list of things, like her hair and her skin and her legs and everything. Not in this egotistical way. Just in this refreshingly easy-going cool way. Not because anything about her is particularly special. But just because she loves herself. And it's so fucking healthy I look at her in total awe and admiration.

I draw pictures on the paper bags they give us full of condoms, and when Kaylen comes out we meet up with Ariel and Shauna and Ashley and we fill condoms up with water and play dirty games with them.

2009-05-29T15:20:00.000-07:00

Ah, Britney. She is like a little leprachaun cuz she's so frickin tiny. I came out of Bobby's bedroom the other night (from a nap, NOT a fuck) and she was there with Eric and Kaylen, wearing this BRIGHT NEON green jacket and I was like, "Oh my God!!!! Hello!!!" And her face lit up all adorable so I ran over to pounce on her with the biggest hug and it was a terrific moment. And we all hung out for an hour or so, laughing and talking about all kinds of random stuff, but then Eric and Kaylen started getting all lusty together and me and Britney just kinda went to the other side of the living room to entertain ourselves. And she told me all about her crazy life, personal stuff, got a whole bunch of stuff off her chest, and I connected with everything cuz I totally understood where she was coming from, and she was like, "I never share anything like this with anybody because I don't think anybody wants to hear about it," and I was like, "Ah! But I care!" and then we got slightly drunk when Eric and Kaylen finally left us to go fuck around seriously hardcore in Eric's bedroom, and then Eric had to do some school stuff and Kaylen and Britney had to go to bed so we all planned to meet the next day because Britney was gonna teach me how to surf.

And let me tell you SURFING IS AMAZINGLY FUN! You know how they say you RIDE the waves? You really ride them! It is like a ride! Why did I not learn about this sooner? Why have I spent my whole life NOT SURFING? Oh my God.

And Britney, the next day when we all went out and stuff, which was totally a blast I have to tell ya---when we were in her room I noticed she had a bunch of cool art because APPARENTLY she is an ARTIST and she let me have three of her paintings.

One of a tiger.

One of a very beautiful and sad looking girl.

And one that is just a big mess of red splotchiness with little brown things in it. And there is a caption above which says, "EXPLODED DOG."

Lovely.

2009-05-19T18:44:00.000-07:00

I feel like the shittiest person ever..

,

2009-05-19T18:06:00.000-07:00

"I have many questions.
Places I keep going...
I don't know the meaning of "no tresspassing"
/i have many problems
fears I can't ignore
I don't know the meaning of "self destruction"

some say boredom, it's a killer, you
end up breaking hearts like chairs"

Damien Jurado

2009-05-19T17:57:00.000-07:00

I decide to get absolutely as drunk as I possibly can before I break into peices.

Just to feel myself touch the edge.

If you knew me, and the music, and everything here, maybe you would understand a little better.

.

2009-05-19T17:45:00.001-07:00

I suppose the environment you surround yourself in does reflect a bit of something about your character, but it isn't everything.

"Have you forgotten how to love yourself?" ~Red House Painters

.

2009-05-19T17:36:00.000-07:00

"The trouble with having an open mind, of course, is that people will insist on coming along and trying to put things in it."

~Terry Pratchett

always lost

2009-05-18T07:39:00.000-07:00

It's in my art, and the way that I dress, and the way that I carry myself, and the thoughts and feelings I put out there for the world to take on. And it's all about the way that I take the world in, how I see the time go by from my own personal perspective. It's in everything I know and everything I fail to realize. And I'll never be able to put my finger on it and own that spark of life, now will I? I'm always going to be lost.

ugh.

2009-05-14T16:21:00.001-07:00

Fucking alterior motives!!!! God damn it!!!

2009-05-14T15:53:00.001-07:00

"Is he taking it back?" my dad asks, peering into my eyes trying to read my reaction.

"Yeah," I say sadly, "He said he didn't care, but then when we officially stopped fucking, things changed. I went over it with him repeatedly, I wrote it down on a piece of paper with him, I really checked to make sure it was established but then when he realized we were really totally truly over he decided to take it back and act like all of that talking and writing we did never happened. And I don't want to argue so I'm just like fine, whatever. I guess I understand. But it's bullshit."

There's a gentle understanding in his expression. "Well, you know," he says, "relationships are based on bartering."

I'm like, "Yeah."

That's great. Now that I'm officially not fucking him I have to realize my sex was part of a barter exchange.

2009-05-11T04:54:00.000-07:00

fucked UUUUUUUUUUUUUP !!!!!!

.

stupid story

2009-05-10T12:52:00.001-07:00

So she takes me to the bathroom and I lift my arms up and she's like, "Wait, hold on." And she runs off for a minute. I'm alone in the bathroom just looking around, standing there idle and feeling restless. Then she comes back holding this huge scary pair of scissors and I look at them like, "Oh my God" and she's like, "They're meat cutters. It's all I have." I'm kind of entertained by the whole thing really so I just lift up my arms again for her happily and she moves in for the kill. I'm like, "You realize if you hurt me it is OVER." She tries to reassure me, while she's grabbing at my armpit hair and trimming it with these giant fucking insane scissors. I look down at the progress she is making, hacking her way through this bush of hair under my right arm. I watch her pinch at some hair, pull at it, and chop it away. Then she throws the cut hair to the floor triumphantly. She's having a good time going at the whole mess, really. Telling me how hot I am going to be, acting all cool like she knows what hotness is all about. Good Lord. Pretty soon she is done with the right underarm and she starts attacking the left. I can't help but feel a twinge of sadness to be giving into this bullshit concept of idealized beauty that society is always fucking thrusting in my face. When we hop into the shower and she shaves my pits the sadness just grows and grows. I laugh and joke but inside I wonder what the fucking world is coming to, why everybody is so damn shallow. And I get out of the shower but she stays in because she wants to seduce me, she leaves the curtain open and I just hang out in the corner of the room drying off my body for a moment while she gives me the sex eye and talks about the dirty things she wants to do with me and why it's just the best idea for us to fool around. I just grin at her deviously and play with the idea of fucking her in my mind. I can tell she genuinely wants it, she's been touching me all day trying to turn me on and it's completely real, it's total fucking lust, she's like a serious lesbo. I let her keep hitting on me because she has got such a FINE ass and the most AMAZING legs and such sweet little tits and cute lips and pretty eyes and nice skin. She's not perfect but I won't mention her flaws. She is quite lovely enough to be cherished for her looks. Oh, also her pussy is just deliciously pink. I forgot to add that. I'm attracted to the girl physically at least, I guess. But she does not strike me right on a mental level. I don't suppose it really matters when we're fucking if she's got a great mind or not though. So I consider using her as my sex toy. But I don't get back in the shower like she wants. And she pouts.

She begs, because I admit to feeling tempted, and she thinks I'm asking for her to be more aggressive. I can't resist myself anymore, despite the fact that I am not truly interested, that I don't want to kiss her, because I don't love her mind at all. I think about it like a fucking animal, purely physical, and soon she is licking my pussy and I realize the whole thing is completely different with a girl, there is a sweetness that a man just doesn't have, there is something so soft and tender about it. And she licks at my boobs and she fingers me while I moan and whimper and cum and I don't know if she realizes that I am cumming already so easily. But she knows I am enjoying it and she smiles at me thrilled that we are caught up in this. But we have to stop or we will be late, we've yet to doll ourselves up and people are expecting us to meet them for a night of partying.

We happen to be very close in size and she has so many shoes I find a pair of heels to wear that fit me splendidly. I dress up like a total sex queen. I feel so clean and sparkly and cute. She looks absolutely divine. I am ready to dance and get drunk and have a wild time with her girlfriends. I feel fearlessly confident and social. But then we end up meeting these two dudes at some sushi place where everybody in the whole fucking joint is all fabulously rich looking and she's flirting with the hotter dude who she apparently has some sort of almost-relationship with and I'm stuck talking to the other less hot dude whose name is like Shirack or some shit like that and he is trying to teach me words in Spanish and I just flirt with him for the hell of it and order myself shots of vodka to pass the time. It's total bullshit because I just want to go out and dance and lose myself in a new scene but since APPARENTLY the hotter dude is not even twenty-one yet although he LOOKS to be about thirty fucking years old he can't get into the club we were gonna go to, where her girlfriends are all waiting for us, where I fucking want to be, and she doesn't want to "ditch" him so we end up trying to hit some other club just the four of us but by the time we fucking leave the sushi place it's midnight and the club we're after isn't open anymore and we end up loafing around eating pizza at some fucking pizza place and I'm not drunk enough and the night has gone to fucking hell.

But no, no, the night gets fucking worse because my little lady friend is so involved with her dude, and the other dude is after me because I fucking flirted with him and he's like, "Come on, just me and you, we'll go find a club and dance ourselves" and we do go find a club but when I try to get in they won't let me because I forgot my i.d. in my friend's purse. So he's like, "I want to fuck," and I'm like, "Oh, that's nice, I could use some cock tonight but if you have a disease I will kill myself you should know." This guy is just another fucking guy in a million guys, he's intelligent enough, thoughtful enough, cool enough, but not really very impressive in any way REALLY. But I figure I could have some good conversation with him because I know how to make people entertain me, and I'm so in love with cock I'd get off easy if he fucked me. He makes me a thousand promises that he is not diseased and I find myself feeling so fucking depressed because I know if he infects me with something I am seriously going to have to kill myself. And I'm like, fuck, why am I arranging sex with an absolute stranger, this is such a risk, what is wrong with me why is it so easy for me to destroy myself. I will never change. I will always put myself in horrible situations like this. I have to learn how to fucking avoid this kind of shit. Because when I'm faced with the thought of my own destruction I just can't care enough to protect myself. But I have to learn how to care. Or I will end up killing myself one way or another. Why do I have such unhealthy self-esteem? Oh, right, because I spent years and years of my youth howling at the moon and crying my eyes out suffering under the stupid wrath of my parents and I just became numb to the thought of my own pain. I just got comfortable with the thought of my own demise. Because I had no choice but to be fucking hurt. The thought of my being hurt means nothing to me. I am well acquainted with misery and it doesn't scare me. If you give me a disease I will deal with it or I will kill myself and finally put a fucking end to my stupid insignificant little life. And it wouldn't be worth the sex even if I came a thousand times in a row nonstop. But I'm just a fucking risk taker now aren't I?

So I kiss him like we must be in love and he seems so delightfully smitten with me. But when we find a hotel something falls in his heart and he can't buy a room. Or maybe nothing fell in his heart but he simply didn't have the cash, or he wanted to spend it more wisely, or what the fuck ever. So I go pee in the hotel lobby bathroom and he follows me in there and takes a piss himself and I laugh in surprise and he pushes me into a stall and starts kissing me like some trashy idiot in a fit of wild passion but then some security dude knocks on the door and he's polite enough to just give us a scare he just says "Security" and leaves the room which prompts me to run out of the stall and out the hotel and I'm out on the street looking around wondering how the fuck I am going to get home when suddenly the dude is standing next to me trying to talk and I just kiss him again and we go together back to meet with my friend and her fucking dude.

So the dude she is with has a fucking chauffer on beck and call which is nice really and the car is pretty spacious and me and my dude are in the way back making out and he's trying to finger me with my pants on and he's like, "I don't care about the hair, seriously, I like it. I do! It's natural." And he's fucking fingering me asking me to cum and I'm like, shit, all the cums I get are weak and half-baked and lame. I'm like, "I'm sorry, I don't know what I need." He tells me that I need love. I wonder about that. I'd like to agree but it isn't true. I don't know why I can't really cum. I don't understand it. Makes no sense to me. I fucking own my sexuality. I cum when I fucking want to cum. Maybe I just didn't really want to fucking cum. Maybe I was bored with the whole Goddamn night.

He tells me over and over that I am perfect, perfect perfect, that I am so nice and intelligent and I have perfect tits and a perfect butt and a perfect cunt and a perfect stomach. He touches me everywhere like he needs to fuck me but he can't fuck me and he'll never fuck me because I might have given him my number when I got out of the car but he wanted to be my friend and I figured hey okay fine sure if he ever calls I might be charmed and hold a conversation with him but I don't have a bit of an urge to bone him REALLY I just thought it might be cool to use his cock that night but it meant nothing. I'm sure he'll mean something to somebody someday probably. Not me though.

God I wish he hadn't fingered me, he did a terrible fucking job of it and who knows if his hands were clean. Ugh.

So I spent the night at my lady friend's house and then I woke up at like six o'clock feeling healthy physically although very tired because I'd only slept for three hours but I was in this mood like I have to get the fuck out of here I hate this girl and I never want to speak with her again there is nothing appealing for me in this relationship at all. She tells me I am her favorite person, her closest confident, she wants me to spend more time with her, she wants to be my sex toy, but I can't fucking stand the bitch and I don't know why I hang around her at all except for that fucking hot ass she's got. The only reason I ever let her into my life in the first place was because we kinda had some good heavy-hearted conversations about pain we'd been through in our lives and I bonded with her about how we'd both learned to overcome the shit and just be happy. But she's not really a sophisticated unique person. She's kind of a deadhead. Sadly. So I was in this terrible mood and we had plans to go out for breakfast later in the morning before she headed off to work but I couldn't imagine myself spending one more minute with her. And I had this view like my leaving would be such a dramatic thing, like she would wake up and be like, "No! Don't go? Why?" But she didn't care she just told me to come back soon instead of being so aloof all the fucking time.

It was cool though, on the walk home I found out about an art show today which I'm gonna go to after I take a small nap. Also on the way home I passed by this church and somebody had a card table set up in front of the building and a little folding chair opened up by it and nobody at all was around and I was like, "Why is this table out? Is somebody going to use it? Because I kinda wanna use it right now." So I sat down and I wrote in my diary for a few minutes and then this woman came over and looked at me funny and I was like, "Is this your chair I'm sorry" but she was like, "Oh no no no! It's fine. I'm not using it right now anyway." And she had me help her tack up this huge paper painted sign that said something so stupid and boring I can't even remember. Then I left to finish my walk home.

I felt so much more beautiful in my own clothes, walking home, in my green tank top that says "REAL BOOBS" on it and my comfy fitted dark jeans and my new tennis shoes, with my big fat jacket and my fun girly bag. So much more beautiful than I did all dolled up and ready to fucking make a man melt. Heels are hot, heels make me want to fuck, and it was nice to be so exquisitely ladylike for a night. But it was all just bullshit, trying too hard, going against being comfortable for the sake of fitting into this vision of super hotness. I don't need that to prove I'm hot.

And I don't need to shave my pits either, when I loathe it so much. I let my lady friend do it because I thought it was appropriate given the scene we were stepping into. Which we didn't step into. We just had some fucking sushi with some dudes, and then pizza, oh boy, what a fucking amazing time. But I mean, at a club you have to meet certain expectations, you have to fit in. I get that. I can handle that. I just don't fucking care about the pit hair, or the cunt hair for that matter, under ordinary circumstances. Because it seems like trying too hard, for me. It's uncomfortable and I just don't do uncomfortable. I am happier rebelling.

And it's not as if I don't get seriously awesome sex as a consequence. It's not as if I am ever denied that. I get laid and I get laid well and I get laid wherever I want whenever I want and thats just a fucking fact. The only consequence I get is that there are a lot of people who don't understand and they whine in my ear that I have offended them. Because what the fuck is this world coming to people are so fucking shallow.

At least I have my hippie friends to support me.

2009-05-08T20:50:00.000-07:00

do I have an eating disorder? no, I just didn’t want the cashew chicken thing. what the fuck am I doing here. i thought there were more dishes, and hey, look, I was right, here comes another one. now my plate it full. amazing. but I did almost look at everything and walk away. because why am I here. we should see you two again, like next week on Friday. no that’s my birthday. I plan on being gone by then. I won’t even be with this guy. if I’m not gonna be fucking some other guy with a huge dick and great brains and a lovely heart I’m gonna be with my only other friend in the whole world having a truly beautiful time just reconnecting. I wonder if you knew, would you see it in my eyes then. would you be able to read it then. would you look for it and know. is it there? it has to be. a distance. a misery. oh, I’m just um, no I;m not nervous. god I am sick of you. please fuck off. oh but he is funny. I look at her in all of her perfect beauty and sexuality. clean, smooth, naughty but dignified. jealousy rises up. I just feel it. I should be happy for her but there isn’t much warmth. I should think about how she tried to decorate her home tastefully, how she tries to be cool and she does it well. she’s very extremely smart, her vocabulary is insanely huge. she doesn’t even realize how far above she is. I hope they are happy together. it’s not about her, hating her, it’s about comparing myself and falling short is all. it’s about hating myself. for being this rough bloated monster.

he made me a gift. how far can I reach. how deep can I go in every direction before I fall apart.

2009-05-07T18:37:00.001-07:00

"You're asleep and pressed up against my arm

but do you dream of couches in another town, other arms to pin down?

It's just the right amount

of love and doubt

I found out. "

~Slow Runner

2009-05-07T18:30:00.000-07:00

"How can you remain so calm

when the wind is ringing all my inner alarms?

I'll put on my yearbook smile but always burn for something stupid and wild."

~Slow Runner

depart

2009-05-07T16:16:00.000-07:00

I think it's time I went away to be alone for awhile. I'll be back later when I'm whole again. Let me breathe. I love you. Later.

2009-05-02T06:05:00.000-07:00

I am avoiding---
Oh, shit. I can’t tell you.
I don’t know how to.
Sorry.

But it’s like…I wish I had the guts.
And this room is supposed to be beautiful
but I don’t want to look at anything.
Nothing moves me
And I don’t feel happy. I feel---

I can’t stop twisting my hair around my fingers.
And there’s a funny taste in my mouth.
The aftertaste of banana.
Not so sweet.

What am I trying to say?
No, I can’t say it.
I don’t want to think anymore.
Nevermind.
It’s nothing.

drain, pain

2009-05-02T05:39:00.000-07:00

Well, instead of really good I feel slightly nauseated with myself, hateful, sickened by my mind. I should have gone away, been left alone to cherish that escape and that freedom and that safety, I had it in my hands and my heart and my soul and it was easy to keep but then I drifted into shit. I went with him to another place where we're both just broken, bitter losers. I'm tired of stressing out about so many people, all of them grinding into me with stupid ugly needs. I'm tired of flipping back and forth between myself, being split in half, one side healthy and the other side in a panic, or half-dead, or completely abused or abusive, or painfully self-conscious, or lame. Last night the air outside was so amazingly soft and warm and clean and beautiful, and I was home inside of myself, I fit snug and happy. Last night I was fine and thoughtful and unbound. Now I am suffocating here. Now I'm lost in this cage again. I can't explain any of it to him. I don't really have a hold of any truth. I've just got a mix of insanity and pleasure. I'm just spinning around, confused and horny and so exhausted but awake. I could talk sensibly I think, with some guidance. I could find my purity, create my clarity, fix my flaws and heal the wounds. I think really deep down in the depths of me I am back with him in this place because it's important to experience. I don't think anybody could ever really make me clean. I think it's time for me to go back out. I think if he's got something to say that would be special. But all of my words are terrible and I have no energy to offer up. I'm going to fall off and over and into another world. I'm going to go again. I'm sorry that he got hurt but he seems alright actually. Maybe with time he'll become perfecly fine. I don't want to focus on that part of this anyhow. I'm trying to explain, oh fuck, I have no way to explain. I don't know my way around. I just have to get back in a good mood. I have to get back alone.

2009-05-02T05:16:00.001-07:00

This complete stranger pops in and offers the room a blunt but everyone is all NO NO NO THANKS WE'RE ALRIGHT REALLY, KEEP IT. The guy is so surprised he's like, ARE YOU SURE?? And they're all balking him away, waving him off. I can't beleive it. I'm like, DUDE, I'LL TAKE IT! I don't really need any weed at all, I just got myself like a frickin buttload already earlier last week. But the idea of a blunt already rolled and ready for me sounds fun. And the guy sees I'm willing and he's happy and he throws it to me and walks out. Which is like the best thing ever. I put it in my pocket for later. I keep drinking and any time I even know the song even partially I'll sing along with or without a microphone. He's going at it too but he's funny and I'm just too sincere. It feels like. I don't know anybody, I feel slightly awkward.

I was admiring her bag. I like your bag, it matches your bangs!!!! She had a bag with a British flag symbol on it, she was playing with it, arranging it next to her so you could see the pretty side. I thought it was cute. She was chubby with black tights and a black pin-striped skirt and some kind of black shirt. She had black hair with red bangs. A pretty face. I don't know. She seemed flattered but like she didn't beleive I was serious. She didn't say anything. I don't know.

But this girl who had opened my beer for me earlier, when the party was just starting to die but nobody even knew it yet, she was like LET'S TAKE THAT BLUNT TO THE GIRL'S BATHROOM EH??

She had on a lot of make-up but she looked perfect. she was chubby too. And she had on this wild shirt, just colorful and strangely printed. We go in the bathroom and I'm like, it broke in half take a peice. She lights up and I stick my blunt in the fire with her and we both suck. We look around. What is this bench here for, she wonders. who do you know here? She mentioned the birthday girl and I totally didn't even recognize the name, it was silly. Karen, of course. whoops. I'm here with my boyfriend. He's Jeremy's buddy. She knows my name already. I think she says hers is Lauren, but honestly I barely care. Don't look in the mirror was the first thing she said when we went in. I was like okay! Is it the light? The light in here is really harsh I noticed. No!
It's the mirror!!! How are you so skinny she wants to know. And she compliments my shirt. I made it myself I say. No you didn't!!! Yeah, you can see on the inside it's totally unprofessional!! Look! I show her some flaws. She just gawks at me. She wants to save theblunts, give em to karen. I give mine one last good pull before I put it out with hers. She says put em in your pocket. I'm like, no! It's dirty! She wrapps them in a paper towl. ridiculous. I tell her she is a genius. I don't even know what I am saying anymore. We go back to the room and Jeremy looks at me and gives me a scolding. He's worried it might have been laced. I'm like please.

I try to have myself a good time and i do, I really do. People are divided into cliques within the group but I'm just loving the music with the music lovers, and I'm laughing at the brilliance of everybody's soul. the lyrics are all interesting and the sounds are fun. Sometimes I just worry I'm supposed to be somebody when all I have to offer is myself. so I just gave my full self and hoped for acceptance. In the end nobody was around but the Jeremy's and Karen and we sang some Radiohead and I realized they are still my favorite band.

When we drove home I wasn't on but you know I was fine, I was feeling the flow slow and easy but there was something weird in the air. I was wondering when he was gonna say something but I really didn't need any entertainment, if he wanted me on he'd just have to snap his fingers. After a long while he asked where my ipod was but I said all of my music is depressing to you, you say. you don't want my music. so he turns on the radio to my station and it's actually playing a good sound. Over and over. Of course, cuz it's big sonic chill time and that's when the real music comes out. fucking yes. I have not been so relaxed and comfortable and pleased and clean and free in a car driving along in quite a time. Music is so important to me. It always has been.

I take a showerwhen we're home and when I'm out I just sit down next to him naked. I'm like, does it bother you? He says no it just takes away the mystery. I have no idea what that even means but okay. I think about it and just when it seems to make sense I slip back into confusion. I leave him. I talk on the phone with eric, I tell him I am probably losing my sanity and somebody ought to just lock me up in a padded room. i tell him life is hard and scary and strange and too much too often. I don't think it is supposed to be. I think it's all in my head and I'm just sick of how difficult my brains are. I'm tired of trying. I worry I'll never become balanced. He says no no no. I tell him I'm trying to get the funds to buy him a keyboard because I love the way he plays. For christmas hopefully I will be able to get him one. fuck, I've gotta make people gifts and the time is slipping away.

In the end there aren't any worries but that's a veiw I have to loop around to find. And I get so caught up in all of these emotions.

Maybe I am a crazy artist.

I am thinking nothing matters. The moon was smiling at me last night. It was a big fat yellow smile and in my head I didn't care about anything bad that could happen.

The long period of terrible sleep has worn me thin but I am supposed to continue faking my energy. I am going to go back to bed while I still have a chance.

I starved myself yesterday on accident. It hurt.

2009-05-02T03:50:00.001-07:00

He just took me into his arms,

away from how hard I felt it hurting me.

and when I think about it now I remember

Such a real smile and beautiful sparklingly devious eyes.

I never knew anybody with more class or style or pizzazz or character or charisma or brains.

I never followed a person so completely wild or free.

he held me hard and meaningful and intense and loving, out there in the cold night. he did. he just took me in his arms. over and over. so close. when i wanted to secretly cry.

alone. together. in secret. with our cigarettes and our dirty sex and our stupid head games and our words that we shared so deeply and big.

he took what i gave and he TOOK it. He felt it. Owned it. Loved it. Understood it.

We both had our fucking minds going together in this heavy dark direction. Where every moment we'd be looking out at the world from these real eyes.

Carl Philips

2009-05-02T02:40:00.000-07:00

"There's an art

to everything. What I've

done with this life,

what I'd meant not to do,

or what I would have meant, maybe, had I

understood, though I have

no regrets."

"It must only look

like leaving. There's an art

to everything. Even

turning away. How

eventually even hunger

can become a space

to live in. How they made

out of shamelessness something

beautiful, for as long as they could."

"You're the same wilderness you've always been."

2009-05-02T00:55:00.001-07:00

"I'm bored with looking good."

~the teddybears

2009-04-23T23:14:00.001-07:00

I tried to explain again, about love. It didn't work well enough. My message went through maybe halfway. I'm so tired.

For my pants.

2009-04-22T00:46:00.000-07:00

I'm thrifting and I chance upon this pair of black leather-type pants. They happen to fit me perfectly. Absolutely stylishly comfortably well. But there is no fucking tag on them. And this thrift store will not allow you to buy anything without a tag. I tried to buy a shirt they had once a couple months back, but it was missing a tag, and the lady behind the counter was really adamant about not fucking selling it to me. So I go to the fitting room and I take the tag off of another pair of pants very carefully. It is stapled on, so I try not to fuck up the staple. And then I try to take this used staple and stick it into the leather pants and attach the tag. But I break the staple. So I have to bend it funny. And the tag is barely hanging on and it looks like a really shitty staple job.

But where the fuck am I going to find another pair of black leather-type pants that fit me this perfectly and they only cost $4.99. I'm not going to miss this fucking opportunity because of a stupid tag problem.

But the lady behind the counter notices my shitty staple job. She's got the pants in her hands, she's ready to ring them up, but then she just stands there staring at the tag all curiously and I know I'm in for it. So I'm like, "Okay, do you want the truth?" She looks up at me tired but charmed. "The last time I came here they wouldn't let me buy a shirt because it didn't have a tag and I was trying on these pants and I noticed they didn't have a tag and so I took off the tag from another pair of pants and I just tried to stick it on these but I did a really bad job and now you noticed and I'm sorry."

She smiles to herself amused and rings them up. Oh yes. OH. YES.

"Only because you are honest," she says. "Honesty pays, I want you to know. I knew."

"Thank you," I say gratefully. "That is very nice of you. Thank you so much. I really love those pants."

2009-04-21T23:46:00.001-07:00

I'm in the living room alone, standing with my sweet clean bare feet on the soft thick carpet, sun shining in through the window and the sliding glass door. Looking at a picture of him on the wall. And he looks so fucking professional. In the best way.

I have to get out of that room. I go to the bathroom upstairs, somewhere to breathe alone. It is very artistically decorated in there and they have a big bathtub right in the center of the room. The floor is also that same thick carpet. I sit on the floor and breathe very deeply in and out, trying not to cry, trying to calm down. Ultimately the things making me sad don't even matter. So, I let my horrible overwhelmed ugly feeling of sorrow go. I say goodbye.

When I see him, I feel the need to dance, and I even do the whole humping-you-with-my-butt thing on him. He gives me all the big hugs I ask for and even does his own small dance to complement my moves a few times when I bump up on him. We laugh and joke at every opportunity. But I keep getting lost looking at him. Just to see him, it stirs this whole ocean of sweet loving emotion in me. Sometimes I just hold my breath and wait for the sadness of our ending to pass. Sometimes I just hide my head in my arms and sigh. Sometimes I just cover it up with an insecure smile. It keeps hitting me. Over and over. We're not a COUPLE anymore. We're only friends.

He goes completely cold when we are alone after I am forced to confess about my birthday fuck. That it only took me two days of freedom to hop on the stick again. I am tired and I can't put up an act of not-sadness anymore. I keep wanting to cry.

All of my things are with me now. I'm out completely. And I feel kind of like a feather in the wind, and the wind is taking me away.

release

2009-04-21T03:51:00.000-07:00

He's not somebody I can just drop cold. Because all he has to do is show up at my door and look me in the eyes. Everything is there for him to take and own. I have to make him understand, let him be the one to reject me. Lie one last night in bed with him while we both feel it in the air and turn it down. Crying to myself because it's so hard to resist pulling him close and opening our world up again. Soft, small tears. I look at him. At this face that I never drew enough portraits of. I look at him with my artistic stare very deeply. He meets my gaze after a long moment of silently resting there with his eyes shut. Faces me with such a tender expression. He doesn't want to stop loving me.

I reach out to him in the night without thinking. He asks me what. I say I'm sorry I wanted you sorry nevermind sorry. He holds my hand and kisses it and I melt. But I pull away, roll over to isolate myself on the edge of the bed, curl up with the covers. "It's so fucking hard." I tell him. My honesty makes him cry too. We're letting it go. Turning it down low. Hushing it.

I leave the next day, not with all of my things. Just the basic necessities. I go home to my family. They welcome me back. They have changed into healthy people over the year and a half that I have been away. They were already trying to grow and heal and become less hateful but they were too consumed by madness. Living with them was the worst hell. But now they are done with the crazy anger. Now, they are peaceful and kind. Sweetness.

It's my birthday, I am turning twenty one. People think I ought to go out galavanting around, drinking and partying. Maybe if I had real friends. But I don't. Maybe if I was in a more social mode.

I look terribly exhausted and stressed. For the past two weeks I have been starving. And I haven't been sleeping well. This friend of mine wants to see me. I told you, I don't have any real friends. But he is actually a very cool guy. Cool for a huge bunch of beautiful reasons. He picks me up and I don't know where I want to go, which bothers him. But he takes me to a restaurant. They have a fountain there, with lights that change colors and reflect on the water. We don't get to sit by it. I can barely catch a glimpse of it even when I bend over backwards to look. I tell myself I don't care. But I bend over backwards to look more than once anyway.

He tells me about how he got arrested for protesting, and he made jazz hands at the cops when they asked him to surrender, so they clubbed him. He is the entertaining one in our conversation. I keep sinking down in my heart, but cover it up with insecure smiles. He makes me laugh pretty good. He's got a very sharp mind. I wonder if he is lonely talking to me, wishing he could be talking to somebody with more of a brain.

He's shaved himself so thoroughly there is no hair on his body anywhere. He has got one of the most gorgeously perfect bodies ever. A magnificently large cock. And a cute face. Especially lovely eyes, too.

I have my starved body, my hairy cunt and hairy pits, my face almost pretty but so haggard from not taking proper care of myself. I am not fit to be fucked. But I love him. And I want him.

I cum on so many levels, so many times, but I keep getting caught up feeling sad that we are not dating, that the whole thing is just physical, then I tell myself I love him, then that makes me upset because I'm not fucking dating him. And I won't be dating him. Ever. Because it's done between us. He loved me when he had me, and then when he couldn't have me, and then when he almost had me, and then when he couldn't have me the second and third time, but then when it finally came down to actually having me again he just got tired. And I tried to inspire a spark in him but he was just like, "Desiree, make a spark in your own self. Make your own life for you. Focus on that. You need to focus on yourself." And he offered his cock for my birthday. To be used for the sole sake of animal pleasure.

I used to get him off with insane passion. Now, all I have in me to offer is one simple cum and I can only give it with the most pathetically weak gusto. I am lost on his body, disconnected, reluctant to make any moves because my sense of intuition has completely died. When he cums in my mouth I can't even tell you how much I enjoy it. But my mojo is gone. I have to ask out loud, "What happened to me?" He just kinda looks at me curiously but doesn't reply.

We hang out in the shower afterwards. He tries to convince me that I ought to shave or at least trim my hairy parts. He violates my butt a bit. Slaps at my tits. Writes on the steamy shower door in Japanese characters. We have a time in there just as friends. There is no more lust. He leaves a little while later after forcing me to drink a big bottle of his homemade coffee flavored beer. Before he goes though, we lie in bed naked and he bites me. On my tummy, and my thighs. It hurts but I love him and I make the pain my bliss.

The day after I am supposed to go back to see my ex, because his family wants me to come to the birthday dinner they had planned. I wear a short schoolgirl red plaid dress and it barely covers up the bruises on my thighs. I dance a lot all over the house to no music at random moments and hug everybody and laugh easily about everything. My ex grins and jokes a lot and it seems as if we are going to be okay. Like we still have something even if we don't have everything.

When we are alone later he is like, "You never wore dresses when we were dating." I say, "Ah, but now I am twenty one, and I am in bloom. I am going to be a queen." I make a big show with my hands of being in bloom. He walks away in a sad huff.

I have a lot of fun on my own with my days of freedom, drawing and writing and making music and exploring the city. I am going to leave this city soon to go roommate with a friend. I have to appreciate this place while it is still mine. My old boss can get a job for me up there which will be convenient. I plan on saving my dough and running away to San Fransisco. Where I will make real friends. And be immersed more deeply in creative culture.

2009-04-17T13:22:00.000-07:00

"None of us will ever accomplish anything excellent or commanding except when he listens to this whisper which is heard by him alone."

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

2009-04-13T09:27:00.000-07:00

"You've been crying in the shower? Why?" he asks me, apparently having read my last blog post.

Don't bond with me over my blog. If you knew me I would tell you. We are strangers, far apart. You look in my eyes and you land somewhere in them I can't be. You go somewhere I can't stay.

2009-04-11T12:27:00.001-07:00

I put my face up close to the cold glass window and stare outside while my sweet music plays so beautifully to me through the headphones I am wearing. The room is warm and I am all alone the way I like to be. I watch the wind move the wildly overgrown and gloriously green lusciously thick grass, and shake the big branchy trees. I am so taken by the sight, and the feeling this music is stirring in me, I swear that the body of the wind is in my soul. You may think that is a stupid thing to say but you have to understand what I mean. I remember in American Beauty when that kid was just so enraptured by this little white plastic bag he videotaped blowing around in the wind. He thought it was dancing. Sometimes one can get so mesmerized by the simple loveliness in the way the wind can touch a thing. But I don't think that I am a good enough writer to explain because the way I am talking seems... put on. When I am really deeply here and I wish you could be here with me.

He says what's the point of somebody drawing or painting a flower when you can already look at one and get pleasure out of that enough. I am so puzzled by this statement, it leaves me speechless. I know he must have a soul. I wonder how he doesn't understand.

going insane over a rough break-up

2009-04-11T10:42:00.001-07:00

He shows me a hard boiled egg on his plate.

"They have eggs here? What? I didn't see any eggs!"

He's grinning. Eggs are like my favorite thing and he knows it. He says, "Look, over by the sushi."

I go look. I don't take any eggs. I just look. He's sitting at the table watching me from afar while I'm standing there in the buffet area staring at this bowl of eggs. I turn around and wave at him with excitement. I walk back to the table and sit down.

"Eggs! Wow. Too bad I am like completely full."

He takes a bite of some chicken. I'm thinking the dumbest thing. Somehow I love him because he pointed out the eggs to me. I mean somehow I love him so much I don't even want to dump him. I'm thinking how can I dump him, he knows I like eggs, he knows me so well.

He knows me so well. I really try to convince myself that's true. If only it were.

Oh, he gets me on the level of eggs. With stupid stuff that doesn't matter much at all, like this, that I am an egg fan. But the whole reason I have been wanting to leave him is because HE DOES NOT UNDERSTAND ME ON SO MANY OVERWHELMINGLY IMPORTANT LEVELS.

2009-04-11T08:09:00.000-07:00

I walk into the bathroom naked, close the door, and turn off the light. After a moment my eyes adjust and I can see well enough in the shadows. I run the water in the shower very hot and commence bathing.

I don't need to really look at anything. I can feel my way around fine. I like the darkness, it shuts the whole world out. So I'm just alone with my thoughts.

I find myself crying, in shuddering sobs.

But it's okay. It is. I'll get clean.

2009-04-11T07:20:00.000-07:00

I take a deep breath and sip my coffee, looking over the cluttered mess on my desk. A stack of journals here, a sketchbook there, important official papers loosely piled together in one area, fake flowers and some bamboo sticks just lying around for no reason, a bunch of pens in a jar, a novel by Erica Jong, a doll I sewed for myself a few years back out of pink satin, a box I painted colorful shapes on with random art supplies in it.

I play with my hair, twisting it nervously. My thoughts are turning around and around in my head. I keep going back to the same places in my mind and then running away from them. I'm trying to figure stuff out.

2009-04-09T03:02:00.001-07:00

And it drives me crazy to act so suddenly without thinking things through in my heart but my heart is on fire and it burns to be me.

2009-04-07T08:15:00.000-07:00

I DID let you do it! But begrudgingly. I let you do it though.

He makes fun of me for using that word. I read it's definition from a dictionary out loud to him. Tell him it was absolutely a perfectly fitting and suitable word.

We argue about words. He doesn't think they matter. I bet he doesn't know what I was trying to tell the preacher on Sunday. I bet it didn't register at all. And he didn't dig. And that's what I mean. His mind is closed and old.

fuck you, you have no idea, fuck you

2009-04-04T09:53:00.000-07:00

Shit. I get up and go to the kitchen. Grab a bottle of vodka from the cupboard. And a shot glass. Pour myself a shot. Hold it for a moment and just look at it. Then I look out the window. And back at the glass again. And out the window.

This is not going to save me. I'm only going to be the same old stupid fucking Desiree, but sloppy. It's 9:43 in the morning. Nothing is going to save me. I just have to deal with this. Shit.

I pour the shot into the sink. Put away the bottle and the glass. Walk away.

Am I strong enough? Will I ever fucking win?

2009-04-04T05:51:00.001-07:00

And I love this moment. Everything about it. I can breathe now. I can feel safe.

And I don't care who doesn't understand. I am free from my despair.

2009-04-04T00:52:00.000-07:00

"Just like your mother," he scorns me, as we leave the restaurant side by side.

"What?" I turn my head to stare at him for a moment while we walk along towards the ice cream shop, totally confused and wondering to myself what the fuck he is talking about and WHY is he comparing me to my mother AGAIN. This is the big new thing for him lately, bringing my mother into everything. Always throwing these matter-of-fact statements out there wrapped up in that stupid fucking phrase, "Just like your mother." The other day I was wearing my make-up like her and she wears make-up like a clown and what the fuck why can't I wear make-up in a pretty way like so many other girls do. Another time I was motioning around in her style and it was just ridiculous apparently to watch me. Once we were having some kind of conflict and he said I was TALKING in her BITCH-FASHION. And there have been other such remarks from him but I don't quite remember them exactly anymore so whatever.

He's got such an irritated, cold expression on his face. I am hit by this oddly intense, nervously fearful feeling, and my whole body goes crazy on me. My face starts to burn like I must be blushing really hard, my stomach gets all jumpy, my legs are loose and ready to run.

2009-04-03T07:26:00.000-07:00

It's early morning. He's lying in bed with his arms pulled up behind his head relaxed while I'm on top of him kissing his nipples because they are just the sweetest most tempting things.

2009-03-30T14:09:00.000-07:00

I am sewing my friend a very insane stuffed pet. When I worked at Denny's I won some stuffed animals in the toy machine and I've cut them all up. Parts of them are lying scattered all over the couch in the living room, and I have a bunch of random wildly patterned scraps of fabric in a box, and I'm just piecing things together as I go along. So I've taken the head of a monkey and completely covered it with fabric. I've got these really nice fabric flowers where the eyes should go, I'll put on some plastic eyeballs later. It's got these big floppy ears that I stole off a dog. The mouth is from the dog too, but I took the tusks off an elephant and put them in the mouth like fangs. I plan on giving the body a pair of tits and a cock for added flair. They will be covered by a cute bra/panty combo, and then over that I think the pet should be wearing a pair of overalls with a long sleeved shirt. I've got an old pair of really cool jeans I will use, and some actual overall buckles I bought in a fabric store awhile back cuz the idea of overall buckles is just interesting.

I knew a girl in seventh grade that had a really unique shirt, she always dressed very artistically. It buckled together in an overall type fashion. I never forgot that shirt. I always thought I would make myself one like it someday.

I used to have this pair of thong underwear that buckled, with two little mini buckles, right in the front. But the thong was white and I happened to spend the night at this lesbian chick's house one night when I wore them. And like, we hung out in our underwear dancing to sexy music in her room with strobe lights flashing colorfully in the dark, smoking cigarettes and comparing our tits in the mirror. Also we went to the bay and got high with her ex-girlfriend and some guy. But anyway we were in our underwear a lot and I had on that thong and she kept saying, over and over, "It looks like a diaper."

Like a fabric diaper. Something about the white, and the buckles.

2009-03-29T03:01:00.000-07:00

"Some people

feel the rain.

Others just get wet."

~Bob Dylan

2009-03-25T07:31:00.000-07:00

I would think I love you so often, I didn't even want to say it every time.

Cuz maybe he wouldn't understand. The feeling. Being genuine.

There is this stupid idea that goes around about how it's just a thing you say

only in the most deep moments with people.

Deep moments are very obvious.

They show the mark of something substantial happening.

But I think even during ordinary times, as it grows, you can smile and give a nod to it.

Say, "Hey, I love you." And when the love gets so big you end up together in a deep moment,

you can say it again and it won't even mean anything less!!!

You don't need to save this word LOVE like it will lose its value if you use it too often.

LOVE

is just one of those things

you can't ever say

is less valuable at one moment

than another moment.

You can't!

Every bit of love shared among people is important.

Every bit of love matters.

Every bit of love is a significant offering.

So I let myself go wild on him, throughout the days and nights,

with endless hugs and kisses and playful squeezes and touches

and telling him I loved him whenever I thought of him warmly.

But how did I love him underneath it all?

Because the relationship was always a problem for me.

I always had one thing or another against him.

Except I would work through everything bad in my heart.

Every judgment and resentment.

I would put my own issues aside and identify with him from where he stood.

To make peace with the problems.

Right now I am overwhelmed by how much I have to fix in my life.

And I am frustrated by this relationship for reasons I fear I cannot make peace with.

I want to be strong, with my own life, and in the relationship. I have to gather my wits.

2009-03-25T06:43:00.000-07:00

I remember collecting seashells on the bay. Washing them in his apartment and laying them neatly arranged to dry overnight by the bathroom sink.

Looking out the window at the palm trees and the sun setting over the ocean.

Cutting words out of magazines. Just going through magazines looking to see if any words caught my interest. I laid them all out on a table and wondered to myself about the state of my mental health. The words I chose were so personally revealing and seemed to be a part of some diary entry that I had in my head yet unwritten. I pasted some words in one of my huge sketchbooks, along with pictures that I had collected from various places. A picture of a naked woman, hiding her face and crying, in a black and white photograph. A colorful drawn illustration of a woman looking wistfully off into the distance, dreaming. A cartoon doodle of a bunch of people running around in a chaotic panic, out of a huge business building and onto the street. A pair of eyes, just looking curiously.

I remember trying not to hate him. Trying to be comfortable and relaxed, to keep my heart open for him.

The stress of my stupid job and how I didn't really make a substantial amount of money and what I did make went into the wrong things and he took care of me and it wasn't right for me to fall into that. To be so dependent.

All of the things in my life that I neglected for fear of becoming an actual adult out on my own in the real world. Shying from responsibility like a spoiled child. I've still barely learned. I still hate myself for it. I still need to grow up. It hasn't been that long. I don't know why I write this way, saying "I remember" as if it is all so far away. But it was another time.

2009-03-25T06:41:00.001-07:00

Months later I finally ask myself the question. Because it's finally over by then. And I don't have to feel so wildly afraid. I can think about it without losing my grip.

2009-03-25T06:39:00.000-07:00

Months later I finally ask myself the question. I really ask myself why. Myself. Me. I think about it on my own. With my own personal perspective. Actually allowing myself to have a fucking opinion.

anne marie

2009-03-19T04:28:00.000-07:00

love, or something, ignites in my veins

and I pray it never fades

miles of air and road and land

that seperate me from all of my plans

and you want to be dressed in poetry

but imagery doesn't fit

today i stood and walked away

i'm never coming back this way

Si I've been sleeping with this silence in my mind

and all I see scares me

LeeAnn

2009-03-14T22:38:00.000-07:00

LeeAnn was really beautiful. Even like, in some old pair of ratty sweatpants, a huge t-shirt, with no make-up in her face, hair unwashed and greasy. Even after she gained a few too many extra pounds. The girl had that high level of hotness. Somehow it never made me jealous, I think because I cared so much about her it only seemed right that she would be so pretty.

She tried to act all bubbly and cute but underneath her happy show everything was fucking awfully sadly darkly depressingly wrong. Her mom was dead and her dad was in jail or something, I can't remember exactly. But she was being taken care of by her older sister, who was just a totally crazy selfish lazy heartless tricky manipulative controlling abusive angry person.

So she got away from her sister after awhile, but only went on to live her life as a damaged soul, in constant misery always finding herself plagued by stupid self-created problems. Right now she is in this awful perverted situation with her boyfriend and his dirty horny dad and they are both making her work two jobs to support them while she barely gets to see any of the money and they are trying to convince her to slut herself in the porn industry for their benefit. And I can't have a conversation with her about anything because it's like her mind has been burnt beyond repair.

I don't keep people around and I don't stick around. I get close to people but I don't remain. I knew a girl once that told me she would always read books but she could never finish them. She just kept starting book after book, really enjoying the reading, but always quitting halfway through. She couldn't explain it. That's how I am with people. I just can't hold on.

I think about LeeAnn and how I dumped her, how I said she was just too fucked up and I couldn't handle the drama. And I wonder if she's totally crumbled to pieces or if she's healed at all from all the pain she's been through. And I wonder if I am smart for removing an unhealthy person from my life, or stupid for dropping somebody who needed help.

Sometimes there's no good reason that makes me fade away from people. I had a good reason here though. So I tell myself. Trying to stop this guilt over leaving somebody down in the dumps to die alone. I was her only real friend.

2009-03-14T00:16:00.000-07:00

"You cut your soul to fit."

--Gravenhurst

2009-03-10T19:36:00.001-07:00

"I want a lover I don't have to love. I want a girl who's too sad to give a fuck." --Bright Eyes

2009-03-09T04:22:00.000-07:00

My words dangle in the air and you take them down.

When it's all just so concrete I can voice my thoughts with ease.

But I get uncomfortable. And lost.

I give you more words.

Help. Find me.

Listening to you say

that I need to think more deeply.

Show me how it looks another way.

I follow where I'm told

until I see,

but the truth is vulnerable.

Easily twisted by illusions.

And I am caught on something.

2009-03-04T16:29:00.000-08:00

"Here

I can't stand another scene

can't face another day

in here"

--Mandalay

Surface Idiot

2009-02-27T23:23:00.000-08:00

People operate on different levels of depth.

Sometimes I just can't go in.

Or bring somebody out.

Or even hold my sanity, honestly.

I don't like the word "shallow" anymore.

I'm trying to understand the limits that bind us.

And how we form our various perceptions of reality.

I don't like the word "stupid" anymore.

Logic can be too fucking hard when you come at it from the wrong angle.

And you are simply AT the angle you are AT until you MOVE.

But you can't always place yourself in the right position under every circumstance.

You've only got your own frame of reference.

It's about becoming enlightened. Which isn't an easy thing.

The word "stupid" is a cold harsh judgement.

I don't like the idea of judgement anymore.

I'd rather look into what creates the flaw,

or the idea that something is wrong,

and I want to explore how healing or just acceptance can begin.

I wish you would be gentle with me instead of insulting.

It's like you put me down at every turn.

At nearly every opening you stop to point out a miserable aspect of me.

I can't explain the meaning of things I believe when you approach me

with such an attitude of superiority.

It puts me in a sad and lonely headspace. Makes me withdraw.

Or, it makes me angry.

And I just can't speak on those terms.

You handle your judgements so carelessly. With such stupidity. In such a shallow way.

I cannot educate you. I don't have the strength to make you see.

I simply tolerate you. But you will never change your approach with me.

It's been a problem since the beginning of our relationship.

You don't take me seriously enough when I try to tell you.

You seem to crave conversation. And you get so upset when I lose my voice.

Stop calling me bad names and hurting my feelings and I might get more comfortable.

I was thinking about some recent bullshit you threw in my face.

Connections you made to make it seem like I am just a fucking fool.

And I wonder how you can even stand to kiss me when I'm so below you.

Oh, wait. We don't really kiss very much these days.

And I remember when you used to pleasure me until my cums were numberless.

You said I "deserved" it. I guess that affection died. It's been awhile.

A hopelessly long while.

I could never ask for such devotion. It's in your hands.

And it isn't fair because I have never been a lover to you anyhow.

I have no confidence with you. No sense of intuition.

And it's strange to just use you sexually. With no real extra giving.

I wonder what is wrong.

I can't blame you for leaving me empty when all I do is drain you dry.

You try to show me what's in your soul. And it's brilliant. Your mind is beautiful.

You're just caught on a bad fucking angle with me.

Boundaries. Rules. Thoughts. Opinions.

Ways of opening. And closing.

Places that are safe. And then the dark.

I just wanted to touch because we could.

I feel sad for what I cannot reach.

2009-02-27T18:30:00.000-08:00

Jeremy tells me my music is unhealthy in it's sadness, and I need to listen to more uplifting songs. I don't think he's really fucking listening to my music. He makes a reference to one of my songs and it's obvious he doesn't understand, that he's made the judgement without much fucking thought. The song is about this guy comforting somebody who is sad. About showing love and devotion to somebody vulnerable who needs help. About really caring and feeling sweet. But all Jeremy fucking hears when he "listens" to this song is just words about sadness, and a lonely melody. I know I do have some truly sad songs where the lyrics are all about dejected weariness. But I love them for their genuine depth and the way they touch upon the feeling so beautifully. They make love out of it.

2009-02-27T17:56:00.000-08:00

Now that I'm gone out of the house, my parents have stopped fighting to a large degree.

But correlations do not reflect causes. They don't. I'm learning about this concept in school. You have to look deeper at things.

I'm tired of being insulted by him at every turn.

2009-02-24T21:25:00.000-08:00

Insecure. Uncertain. Withdrawn.

Protecting some stupid fucking vulnerability.

You want me to open up?

I would crumble.

consequences make me sorry

2009-02-24T14:45:00.000-08:00

Don't we all have our own perceptions about what reality actually is? I was just trying to figure out where I belonged. I wasn't sure where I wanted to stand.

How could I know myself, without testing myself? This is how I learn.

And how could I really write and share my thoughts? How could I feel comfortable with my words? With no position to place myself in. On a constant search for another truth. Completely in conflict.

"You're wrong. YOU'RE WRONG.

I'm not overreacting.

Something is off.

Why don't we ever believe ourselves?"

--Rachel Yamagata.

2009-02-17T16:29:00.000-08:00

"watching old baseball games and low budget telethons

aint like watching you yourself, when you yourself is on"

--Tegan & Sara

Seriously. Look within. You'll never be bored with yourself.

rambling about my insecurity

2009-02-17T15:27:00.001-08:00

I don't need to BE entertained. Although it's nice. But sometimes it just seems like people are desperate for something to do. And there isn't a whole lot of soul in where they place themselves. They're like, "It's happening!" but I'm barely hanging on to the meaning of it. I'm thinking, "Are you even here? Where is the depth?"

But then I am not cool. I'm lost in a bad movement. I'm not healthy. I can't speak right. I can't be on. I want out but life doesn't stop.

I'm not explaining anything now, it's not going smooth. My words are failing me. What I want to say is that I have this idea about how I'd like to live. As an artist, a constant artist. And people want art, they crave it, one way or another, on a tv screen or in a song, written down, put up on a wall, whatever. Stupid art, smart art, it doesn't matter. I never met anybody who didn't reach out for some kind of art to amuse themselves with.

But I figure, there are the people who pick flowers and people who plant them.

God just tell me why I can't manage to be happy. And why he yelled at me last night. And why he yanked the headphones out of my ears. And why he hates me so much. And why I couldn't feel the love somehow it was gone. And maybe it's because I'm a shithead.

He says "You play games." But I am not that girl, I care. I just lose my confidence and I have to be gently encouraged. I'm not hiding to tease him. I'm scared. Really. And he's snarling at me that I shouldn't be, terrifying me even further with his fucking superior cold attitude, thinking we have to be in conflict about it. Like the only way to penetrate me is through hard force. Because he doesn't have the patience or the understanding to approach me sweetly. He'd rather take the high road and put me down.

I tell myself, forget about the fucking art. Forget about the fucking social scene. Forget about the fucking guy. Focus on a job, or school. I gotta be able to carry myself. Or I'm just gonna die.

can't cope

2009-02-17T03:20:00.000-08:00

"And it's strange

How you cannot find

any strength, to even try

To find a voice, and speak your mind.

And when you do,

all you wanna do is cry.

Well maybe you should cry.

And I see you, hiding your face in your hands,

talking about far away lands.

You think no one understands.

No one understands?

And all of this life

Moves around you.

And for all that you claim

you're standing

Still,

You are moving too.

I will move with you."

--Alexi Murdoch

2009-02-15T00:00:00.000-08:00

Some people are just like, BAM! Interesting, you know? They make a conversation vibrant and thrilling. And their touch is refreshing. And they move you. They give you energy. They get you happy.

And you find this brilliant spark of life in your heart.

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

I have a runny nose, no cool clothes,
and my skin is just AWFUL.

But I suppose I should be happy
cuz my music is good.

"and if I could
reason
I'd settle this thing"
- Mandalay

Halfway and Nowhere and Trapped Somewhere Wrong

2009-02-10T21:37:00.000-08:00

"What are you doing?" he asks indignantly, and it's the same old fucking story. Yet another version of the same situation. And you don't know how long I've just been sitting here, looking at this page, thinking. You don't know how hard it is for me to write. I got up and I looked in the mirror and I tried to find my soul in my reflection. I tried to get a hold of my mind, by looking into my own eyes. And these words came to me: Don't let yourself be caught here.

Stuck.

Stagnant.

Stressed.

I'm afraid to speak.

"It is often safer to be in chains than to be free."

- Franz Kafka

2009-02-10T03:36:00.000-08:00

What's this thing that makes me hide? Why should I feel so vulnerable?

2009-02-08T15:56:00.000-08:00

"Nothing, not a word,

except for the knowledge

that we are all adorned with cobwebs here."

--An Unreliable Witness

2009-02-07T16:12:00.001-08:00

"I think the worst time to have a heart attack is during a game of charades."

--Jonny

2009-02-07T12:36:00.000-08:00

Humphrey: So just listen. Now did I or did I not... do... vaginal... juices?
Pupils: Mmm. Mmm. Yes, sir. Yes, sir.
Humphrey: Name two ways of getting them flowing, Watson.
Watson: R-rubbing the clitoris, sir?
Humphrey: What's wrong with a kiss, boy? Hmm? Why not start her off with a nice kiss?
You don't have to go leaping straight for the clitoris like a bull at a gate. Give her a kiss, boy.
Wymer: Suck the nipple, sir?
Humphrey: Good, good. Well done, Wymer.
Pupil: Uh, stroking the thighs, sir.
Humphrey: Yes. Yes, I suppose so. Hmm?
Pupil: Oh, sir. Biting the neck.
Humphrey: Yes, good. Nibbling the earlobe, uhh, kneading the buttocks, and so on and so forth.
So, we have all these possibilities before we stamped towards the clitoris, Watson.
Watson: Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.

--Monty Python film, The Meaning of Life

I never wanted to feel a sexual need for anybody. I never wanted to open up like that. But I am so frickin easily orgasmic you wouldn't even believe me if I told you. I mean a coupla months ago, I was at an ice cream shop, flipping through some of the magazines they had lying around, and I landed on an article by Cosmopolitan. And they are like totally sex obsessed. Every cover they put out has the word sex on it in at least five different places. 75% of the pages are filled with sex talk. They think they know what's hot. And I found this article in the Cosmo, with this one part in it that said only two percent of the female population has the ability to simply THINK about sex and cum. And they wrote, "Lucky bitches". And I felt pretty special right then. But it's not like I've always been a lucky bitch. It's something that grew in me, over time, as I got more and more comfortable with my sexuality. Still though, even when I finally reached this point here, where I just cum really hard whenever I get horny, I mean I would be with guys and just NOT want to share that. I just wouldn't want to feel it. I would just keep myself emotionally separated. And I would make it all about them, about their pleasure, with me only as this object to use for lust. Not as a person with any sexual need of their own.

But Jeremy wouldn't let me stay detached. He took total control and owned my pussy.

I still get afraid, though. He'll make me want him so desperately that I can't even bear it so I try to make him stop. I'll back away or I'll wiggle around so he can't catch me. And sometimes he'll just force me to give in, but sometimes he'll let me go.

I think it's a problem I have with power.

I mean, another aspect of the thing with me and Jeremy is, I can't really be his lover. I can't really do much for him. I can't even attempt it because to get that near him scares me too deeply. Other guys, I would pleasure them anywhere so easily because I had the power, I was the one who made THEM feel and they didn't have any real hold on ME. With Jeremy, pleasuring him is just another way of being owned. I mean I can play with his dick I guess, but only because he makes me. And there's just more to pleasing a person than playing with their genitals. Really.

Also I won't let him go down on me!

Sexy stuff is so intense for me. It touches on the deepest place. That place is too deep.

2009-02-07T12:18:00.000-08:00

lacking

2009-02-02T00:09:00.001-08:00

I wish I wasn't afraid to take the things I need, to touch the things I love, to say the things I mean.

2009-01-30T03:09:00.000-08:00

I never cared. I had my own life with MYSELF. It didn't really matter who was around. I could keep myself entertained with anything. There was no limit to how interesting things could be for me all alone.

2009-01-28T13:35:00.000-08:00

I didn't want to cum. And sometimes even kissing would open me up too deep.

But I liked to learn about people.

And guys would always lead it there.

So I'd make it all about their pleasure and they'd just think, "Well, shit, okay."

2009-01-28T13:30:00.000-08:00

"and you can use my skin

to bury secrets in

and I will settle you down."

--Fiona Apple

Personal Bullshit

2009-01-20T11:57:00.000-08:00

I wouldn't say "Fuck you".

I wouldn't say "Please no."

And I wouldn't turn away.

I wouldn't do anything but bend for you.

You bruise people. You hurt people. You don't care.

It took me a long time to accept that some things are hopeless.

I never wanted to believe I needed to lock my door.

I never wanted to defend myself.

So that's what I get then, I get violated and it's my own problem.

For being available.

Well I'm not available ANYMORE.

There's something that must be understood here.

But you're just not of the mind to recognize this truth.

It's about love but whatever you're not interested.

And in the end that's okay. Even though it is the cause of such ruin.

Because it is the nature of this world to be wild.

And you got carried away in a dark direction.

I won't fault you for it even though you're wrong.

Because it's complicated. It's hard. It is.

At least I'm here in my own head. At least I can hold onto this.

I can live in peace. You can make your hell your life.

But I'm not following.

"..and you could see your face in those walls

if you wanted to know what you looked like.

Which you don't. You don't want to know

if you've got even a single hair out of place."

--An Unreliable Witness

2009-01-18T22:47:00.001-08:00

"The past is not dead.
In fact, it's not even past."
--William Faulkner

2009-01-15T17:47:00.000-08:00

He questioned, "What would you beleive if nobody had told you who to be?"

He said "Fuck it all I'm gonna go where I please from now on."

Down

2009-01-15T17:30:00.000-08:00

He said maybe you were there but you didn't really see. You're too fucked up.
Come at the story deep, come at it all the way.
I don't want your words to leave me shallow.

orange juice and animals.

2009-01-14T02:17:00.000-08:00

So Tropicana orange juice is absolutely my favorite. HIGH PULP. This is for people who want a juice that makes you feel like you are actually eating the fruit. In it's most perfectly ripened flavorful state. And they're doing a thing right now where for every carton you buy, if you prove you bought it by entering a little code on their website, they'll protect ONE HUNDRED SQUARE FEET OF ENDANGERED RAINFOREST. At first when I read that on my carton I got really excited because a hundred square feet sounded like a lot. Like, I was picturing a nice wide chunk of land. But apparently a hundred square feet isn't really much more space than a parking spot. I'm not too disappointed though. That's still A PATCH OF RAINFOREST. They have animals in the rainforest! WILD animals!!!!!! Also, weird interesting bugs. I am saving LIFE here. Plus we need the rainforest to keep our climate cool or something like that?

Anyway I am thrilled beyond measure that I get to help the environment with no effort at all, just by drinking my favorite juice.

And also I am going to the zoo tomorrow, in related news. It is beautiful there. The plants, the trees, the flowers are all exotic and gorgeous. The animals are adorable and fascinating. The stores are full of foreign art and high quality things. They put on entertaining shows. Their food is not crappy, it's yummy. Tomorrow is going to be a good day.

2009-01-13T10:16:00.000-08:00

You take my words with cold hands and dump them, worthless, in the trash.

2009-01-13T01:48:00.000-08:00

"And this

is how

the damage is done.

Climbing the stairs

in the dark.

I won't reach out

for anyone."

--Gravenhurst

I would think, "I love you" with Jeremy but swallow the urge to say it.

I would feel it so strong that the words would get caught in my throat

as I pushed them down. They would fight to come out of my mouth.

But I would force myself to hold back.

I would allow myself to say it only on occasion.

And it was hard to choose when.

To decide what moments were appropriate.

Because really if it's genuine when is it wrong?

It's love. It's beautiful.

But he never was the kind to say it a whole lot.

I don't know, the first time he said it was totally weird.

He was like, disappointed in me over a thing,

kind of like a really emotional thing,

but we were talking about it and he was like,

"It's okay though. I understand. I still love you."

Still. He used the word STILL. As if it had always been plain.

But he'd never said it before.

But he'd shown it. And I'd felt it. But when I heard it then.

"I still love you."

He got in me deeper than he was supposed to.

I mean I was just enjoying him for what he had to offer.

Damage

2009-01-12T23:22:00.000-08:00

But some people don't understand "I love you".

Because when I was a kid, I'd tell my parents I loved them like constantly.

My mom would get so happy and excited and touched,

she'd say it back and she'd say it on her own too a lot.

But my dad would be disturbed by it. He didn't trust me.

He told me to stop. He said that my brother,

before they sent him away but then couldn't get him to come back,

my brother would always use that line "I love you"

to butter my dad up so he could ask for some kind of favor.

My brother was a little dirty scheming turd

and I better not be another fucking brat kid.

And he told me, anyhow, even if I really wasn't

just trying to use him for something,

that this phrase "I love you" is too special.

It's meant to be said only every now and then.

Otherwise...

fuck. I still don't understand it.

All I really learned from him there,

was that some people don't beleive in "I love you".