I am the longest lily
reaching to press against the skin of your face
and consume your senses within me.
This world would surely wilt without you
inhaling me
without your breath
hanging on my skin
without your eyelashes
entangled and mingling among my anthers.
The sun is simply a cruel reminder of your absence,
and until you breath me in,
I am merely the
anatomy of a lily
In your presence,
I am the beauty and appreciation of the lily.

Sometimes I find whole books of forgotten things....

"Invariably, there comes a time in every one's life where loved ones and hopefuls are consistently disappointing, regardless of expectation. Where you face the reality of whether or not love truly exists; where things are going well and adventures are abundant, yet there's still this rot in your heart and it's a fresh rot, painful to think about and painful to let yourself feel. There comes a time in every one's life where they must make a decision: To let yourself continue to feel, knowing you may be faced, still, with endless disappointment, or to cut off that organ and tell yourself you will never fear again and never fill the rot with life, letting it become a phantom apparatus with the occasional reminder that there used to be something there. Something you've convinced yourself you are no longer afraid of. Something beastly and stenching of pride, ego, and apprehension.

This isn't about men vs women. This isn't about women vs women. This isn't about race, wealth, class or gender. You could say that this is about equality. Mostly this is about you vs me.

Let me explain."



"It's the catch of wanting to find him smothered in the lie,
but it would only
follow with further
hatred.
I just want justification
for feeling this way, I
guess.
The Hanged Man and The Fool.
Together at last."

"It's the catch of want
(desire) of capturing the
lie, of inheriting disease,
poor will, misfortune,
negativity.
Comfort through obscenity.
Comfort in knowing you are right about all
that will go wrong.
The obscene joker.
Treacherous damsel.
The Hanged Man and The Fool
together at last."




"The relationship is an experiment.
An experiment taken too personally and too far."



"When being poor was
fashionable and we were
drunk with fashion.
Now it's rum head,
rum mouth, rum thoughts,
rum love.

There's no explanation for
the state we're in."




"Even in a group of self-claimed 'outcasts' I feel completely isolated.
Am I supposed to pretend to enjoy the music? Am I supposed to laugh at their stupid jokes?
I don't know.

Curtis comments on the house.
He says it's interesting.
There's an upstairs and a downstairs. I can't even begin to care.

There are cops outside. I almost wish they'd arrest us so that I could escape this facade.

I'm drunk.
Someone's talking about how I'm ignoring every one else. I feel foolish.
I feel self-aware.
I hate this scene.
I smile politely.
I don't know how else to act.
I want to laugh maniacally just to make everyone else uncomfortable.
They like my boots.
That's the only thing I have going for me here. "






"Justice comes in no forms.
I don't want to know about your children.
We're drunk. Isn't this inappropriate?
If I go smoke a cigarette, I could be alone.

I just want to sleep this week off.
I have nothing interesting to contribute to this stupid, meaningless conversation.
He has gone elsewhere with this awareness.
He's abandoned me and my insecurities as usual.

He was the one who wanted to come here.

As usual, I hate him. I hate the scenario he's placed us in.
I don't belong here.

Not as beautiful as the trash they are
i'm not trash i'm garbage. "

"flee, flee, flee, FLEE."




"Maybe the lesson needing to be learned is this: Love the World and the World will love you back. The real question to this lesson is, how do you learn to love the World?"

Today is dream-face-on-cloud-nine mode. Seriously.

And just a few days ago I was thinking, "Razor or gun?" Leaning, of course, toward razor. Seeing is believing after all. 

No more of that! 

It was the last Great Love. I could feel the whole world shake and tremble under its massive fall.  And that is when I really knew it would never happen again. That is when I realized it was gone from my life for good. 

.strange.

Late night thought:

Humans are like dogs who gain your affection and then turn and bite at the first sign of insecurity. I guess that means they are ultimately not to be trusted. 

Also.

Still in dire need of moving. Portland's on the mind. 

Also.

My roommate continues to prove that the word "friend" to him translates to "someone I am fucking or want to fuck". 

What could I possibly wish for today?

_(dotdotdot)_

Watching Cowboy Bebop with Baby. 

Still listening.

"I can't be your apologist very long. I'm surprised that you'd want to carry that on."

Last night my bosses showed me all of their goodies from Egypt. There were a lot. Silk on silk hand woven rugs, handmade marble alabaster jars, spices, teas, turkish coffee (my favorite). Last night over beer, she put some concentrated rose oil on my wrists. It smelled like a rose more than a rose smells like a rose. I just sniffed my wrists. They still smell like roses. And here, I always thought I hated the idea of roses...

Listening, now, to New York Cares by Interpol. You would find it under number five.

I like it better when it doesn't exist.

Can't stop listening to Carry the Zero by Built to Spill. Possibly my addiction song of this week.

Got a postcard today from Borneo. 

Meanwhile, I'm stuck in real life. 

Whatever that is. 

I think I'm bored. 

I found this today. Tonight I end sort of unofficially my month-long housesitting gig in the mountains in the middle of nowhere outside of Las Vegas. A part of me is glad to be getting out of here. Another part of me is anxiety-ridden about going back to the house. I'd like to move sooner than May/June/July. Can we fast-forward please? I hope it's better than what I think it's going to be. I'm so tired all of the time. I woke up this morning and went to mountain-hood gas station for a fill up before my trek to Vegas. It was early and someone was burning a campfire. The sun was warm and the air was slightly cool. There was a woman outside of the gas station drinking a cup of tea with her eyes closed and her face, warm and smiling to the sun. There were some local dogs lounging around the doorway. The lady at the gas station knows me now. She says hello. For the first time in a bit, I feel really excited about the moment, about the immediate future. Somehow, I'm reminded of the same feelings I would get in Telluride. Mountain towns are nice, if you're just visiting.  Next week I will tell my bosses I'm leaving. Often, I feel like a jerk. 

And how does that make you feel?

Built to Spill .carry the zero.

You can recognize the fact that people will always be a disappointment. Maybe that's something everyone knows. It's more wrenching to recognize the singular person who was the biggest disappointment out of all of the people who have disappointed you in your life. It's more than dislike or hatred, it's much deeper. I don't know even know that it has an ending or a bottom in which it could crash.

Some people don't feel guilty for being more than a mere disappointment or letdown, and they don't feel indebted to the person who views them that way. As if by feeling that way makes disappointment void and non-existent. The hardest thing to do is to validate another person's feelings when those feelings contradict and make uncomfortable the image you have made of yourself. For some, it's simply impossible.

I don't think I'm better than it or that I was higher and more dignified than what took place. It just ended up being painfully meaningless. It continues to be painfully meaningless on a nearly daily basis. That's all. Nothing more. "Do you remember when I wished you were dead? heh. That was funny."

All I want is to win.

"And you're so occupied with what other persons are occupied with and vice versa. And you've become what you thought was dumb. A fraction of the sum...I was trying to help but I guess I pushed too hard, now we can't even touch it."

The Microphones .i felt your shape.

Sometimes I feel like I have no friends. Sometimes I wish that I didn't have any so that I wouldn't have to wonder why I feel alone the way I do. Life seems to become a series of what we think things are and what they really are. What life sometimes comes down to is, we are everything we can't be honest about. 

And what everyone is trying to tell me is: Yes, it is possible that you ARE always wrong. 

"I thought I felt your shape but I was wrong. ... It was dumb to hold so tight."

Radiohead .gagging order.

Depression is just a word. It doesn't mean anything. Today I think, "I promise to always be mediocre." Every day I think, "I don't feel like living anymore." I don't know what it means to be dying except for in what it means to be living. I don't know what it means to be dead. I can't imagine it would be anything better or worse than life.

I get so angry with myself at times for feeling so ungrateful in life. There was this girl on tv who had two heartattacks by the age of 19. I spent this afternoon crying because I felt like a horrible human being. I am very good at being human. That's all. I don't think it takes work to be happy or sad. Emotions are effortless. I just...can't be happy sometimes. Lately I just want to give up for a while. 

"I know what you're thinking. But I'm not your property. ... Move along there's nothing left to see. Just a body, pouring down the street."

Where are we going and why are we all in a handbasket?

Yesterday I went to the DMV to finally legalize my car after a long month of driving around, paranoid I'd be pulled over. It never fails that the second I step into the DMV that I realize I'm starving. Not so fortunately, the DMV provides an overpriced junk food bar. So I purchased myself some chili cheese nachos that were generously doused in cheesy goodness promising an upset stomach later on. 

I took my nachos and purposefully sat across from two middle aged, slightly overweight men and pretty much forced them to watch me down my gooey, delicious nachos. One of them started chomping furiously on his gum and avoided looking at me at all costs. The other one crossed his arms and glared at me with intense hatred the entire time. I made it worse by moaning delightfully with each bite and noisely licking the excess chili cheese off of my fingertips. 

That being said, I think that people are generally evil at heart. 

idealism

they say...

...the first signs of leprosy occur on your eyelids and on the palms of your hands.

Some days, feels like sinking.

"...He jokes about having babies with other women and...I feel so small. Ours isn't even born yet. Or maybe he'll rub my stomach and look far away for just a second and I feel like we're a team. I feel like I can do anything with him, that I would do anything for him. And eventually I feel foolish and I feel like I should get an abortion, go home to live with my friend, go to school, and be alone."

Prelude, Vision, Conclude.

The cry can be truly substantial. Deafening. Immovable. Grieving. 

You were my feast, my patron of force,

The definer of love. 

You spoke to me the attentive language of immeasurable gesture. 

This is the meaning. The life. 

And as we flew over the mountains, I shifted my eyes to a certain point of view. Then the snow-crested mountaintops took movement until they transformed into monumental crests of waves and I pretended. I pretended we were flying over a great ocean that existed however many years before man. And it felt like magic. It felt like time travel. It's a different feeling, flying over water, than flying over land...like it would be okay to crash to the watery depths even when drowning has always been one of my greatest fears. I look out the window again, and my makeshift ocean grows more violent. And for the first time in my life, I fall in love with a large body of water. 

As such, I would devote my heart to the mythical.

Then I remember my first flight to Denver some years before. I was there on a short layover. It was night. I remember thinking how depressing and industrial it looked. Almost like a lit up little factory. I remember thinking about what you must be doing at that very moment. 

What I'm digging these past few days.

Of Montreal - "Nonpareil of Favor"

My lover, I've been donating time to review all the misinterpretations that define me and you. I'm thinking about you in my secret language because you're the only one who can help me take it easy. Now I'm happy in the head, knowing there ain't no sucker in the world that's a threat to us. But we've become material. It's like, hey, you were always there, just on the tip of my tongue. And I needed you to happen, yeah. And now that you've happened and it really, really, really came true, I feel like I ought to thank somebody. So I'm going to thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. So I'm calling your ass up at, like, three in the morning, saying, "Wake up, young dragon. Let's go get compromised. You'll be my little ally and you can huddle which way you choose." Now I'm so bugged out by your paradigm kisses. How I've acted out southern hemispherical. And the gods know, cracking my sweet love. I'm cracking my sweet love. I'm cracking my sweet love. I'm cracking my sweet love.

So here we are once again. I missed blogging. Things will be happening here. Thoughts, recommendations, loves, updates, etc. More to come...