my joints creak when I try to do bicycling exercises at night
my head aches because I keep forgetting to buy water
the water here that comes from the tap is sick and sickly and now reminds me of bad hangovers and waking up drunk needing water and having the hot shit mess.
I am going to paris on friday with my boyfriend
i have been low and glum and cranky as anything with no hopes of writing anything decent.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
I'm wearing new perfume ( Galliano Girl) and dreaming about sending poetry writing, musings to the New Yorker
After extensive research readings of what they DO publish I was absolutely appalled. the quality is far inferior to what I expected to find in an international magazine renowned for their quality of work
im fucking sending something in.
After extensive research readings of what they DO publish I was absolutely appalled. the quality is far inferior to what I expected to find in an international magazine renowned for their quality of work
im fucking sending something in.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
I see a striking amount of similarity between me and these girls
its like looking at two people who embody elements that I am very fond of-
did you notice that the redhead is smoking slims?
mmmmm
we have ben stalking each other for two years now, every parisian trip I make
I wonder when we will finally meet.
Monday, October 13, 2008
I feel as though my dreams could quickly become my nightmares- or my daydreams could turn into dreams- I forget them at the first crack of sun. I feel like I am preparing myself for this nightmare and thus experiencing one at this time. I have a hard time not living in the future. I need to remember the present, but all my tenses speak of past or future.
I enjoy singing at the top of my lungs in my dorm room. I am certain that my entire floor is well aware of my... talent. I enjoy songs that involve whistling, because then I feel like a pro when whistling along, in reality, I can barely call a dog with a whistle.
I am deeply afraid of what Paris will turn into for me, and I shouldn’t even be thinking about it because when I think, I speak and which is turn turns into THEATRE. Dramatics and such. I have studied Moliere and have no wish to participate. I would rather hang the curtains around my body, or hang from the curtains.
I wonder if we have outgrown ourselves. I wonder if our bodies will feel like we have growing pains. I remember thinking about myself as mysterious whereas now I am tired and so sarcastic.
That sarcasm is sweet of course. These days no one can tell the difference and my sincerity comes across with peals of laughter.
I rub my Labradorite, because it is said to “dispel depression and negativity.. light in darkness” and there could not be any other moments. I listen to songs on the radio that speak of hope in love. I wonder about purchasing plane tickets to the Czech republic. I check my pulse periodically and feel like both crying and displaying no emotion. I lose my appetite and drink liters of chamomile tea, I take long walks in order to smoke and listen to music that will create a new sense of the streets that surround me. I think about how I have developed a hatred of many cities I have failed to visit which leads to my failure in understanding. Sometimes I wonder if I understand all too well and that is why I am depressed. I am taking the shape of the birds with their frantic calls and I wonder if they understand- I wonder if they too are missing far away mates who don’t sing back. Or perhaps they do and they just don’t believe.
I want to believe in everything but my philosophical doubts stand in the way- reality takes away the heaven and I am like a spoiled Reblochon- a cheese I have never tasted. I believe in old Slovak superstition that says when you sneeze whatever you were thinking was true. I use these sneezes as a prediction and when I feel a sneeze coming on I change my thoughts and am deeply satisfied in my misery to find out its true.
I worry like an old woman and I worry about the lines showing my age. I worry about location and time.
I enjoy singing at the top of my lungs in my dorm room. I am certain that my entire floor is well aware of my... talent. I enjoy songs that involve whistling, because then I feel like a pro when whistling along, in reality, I can barely call a dog with a whistle.
I am deeply afraid of what Paris will turn into for me, and I shouldn’t even be thinking about it because when I think, I speak and which is turn turns into THEATRE. Dramatics and such. I have studied Moliere and have no wish to participate. I would rather hang the curtains around my body, or hang from the curtains.
I wonder if we have outgrown ourselves. I wonder if our bodies will feel like we have growing pains. I remember thinking about myself as mysterious whereas now I am tired and so sarcastic.
That sarcasm is sweet of course. These days no one can tell the difference and my sincerity comes across with peals of laughter.
I rub my Labradorite, because it is said to “dispel depression and negativity.. light in darkness” and there could not be any other moments. I listen to songs on the radio that speak of hope in love. I wonder about purchasing plane tickets to the Czech republic. I check my pulse periodically and feel like both crying and displaying no emotion. I lose my appetite and drink liters of chamomile tea, I take long walks in order to smoke and listen to music that will create a new sense of the streets that surround me. I think about how I have developed a hatred of many cities I have failed to visit which leads to my failure in understanding. Sometimes I wonder if I understand all too well and that is why I am depressed. I am taking the shape of the birds with their frantic calls and I wonder if they understand- I wonder if they too are missing far away mates who don’t sing back. Or perhaps they do and they just don’t believe.
I want to believe in everything but my philosophical doubts stand in the way- reality takes away the heaven and I am like a spoiled Reblochon- a cheese I have never tasted. I believe in old Slovak superstition that says when you sneeze whatever you were thinking was true. I use these sneezes as a prediction and when I feel a sneeze coming on I change my thoughts and am deeply satisfied in my misery to find out its true.
I worry like an old woman and I worry about the lines showing my age. I worry about location and time.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
i talk to much about nothing when REALLY I just want to stAY QUIET AND MIND MY OWN BUISNESS
I wish I took trips alone instead of offering to bring the useless with me
I wish I could keep my trap shut so nasty tidbits such as these did not leak out, but these are my thoughts and I should not be held guilty for what I think even if I am deeply considering MURDER
which I am not.
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