Bella’s tits
And to stabilize things, Japan’s going to build an elevator to outer space.
Someone’s daughter/ I forgot her
At a party
He was waiting
Looking kind of spooky and withdrawn
Like he could be underwater
The mighty mother with her hundred arms
Swept all aside
I hate to walk behind other people’s ambition
I saw you waiting
Saint-like
With your warning
Leave alone
You don’t belong here
He got nervous
Started whistling
Ever thought a ricochet
Did you notice?
Well I wondered
What’s the worst thing I could say?
this is only a reminder for later. feeling a bit disoriented buckaroo. but i will come back to this. i will. come back. with. an explanation. i will. buckaroo. i fucking will.
Love Verses II (score yourself a V)
Don’t get too excited, still on hiatus. These words are not mine but they are for the ones I love and the ones who love me.
Have you found him?
Have you told him everything?
Does he say he feels bad about all this?
You’ve shown tenderness for me
Tenderness for me
To him
National, The. Beautiful Head
I wanted you to like me so bad,
Glow worm,
But I know that you can’t like me like that,
Glow worm,
But it said in the movies,
That someday I will find my love,
And then the world will open up,
Like a big fortune cookie
-Chocolate USA. Isn’t a Lie…/Glow Worm
Let me lie across your crescent spine
Press my belly to the mountain side
Glorious our earthly bodies rise
Fall and rise
Tillman, J. Earthly Bodies
Take everything that feels fine
Catch a shape in the circles of my mind
Make me feel like i belong to you
Make me feel it even if it ain’t true
-Mazzy Star. I’ve Been Let Down
Drink up one more time,
And I’ll make you mine.
Keep you apart,
Deep in my heart,
Separate from the rest,
Where I like you the best,
And keep the things you forgot
-Smith, Eliott. Between the Bars
Hiatus II
published all previous drafts. taking a break for a bit. heres a Yo La Tengo playlist if you’re still reading.
The other side of nothing
9th December 1990
All hopes collapse! The canal does not reach the ocean but merely peters out into a vast swamp. Alex is utterly confounded. Decides he must be close to ocean and elects to try and work way through swamp to sea. Alex becomes progressively lost to point where he must push canoe through reeds and drag it through mud. All is in despair. Finds some dry ground to camp in swamp at sundown. Next day, on 12/10, Alex resumes quest for an opening to the sea, but only becomes more confused, traveling in circles. Completely demoralized and frustrated he lays in his canoe at the day’s end and weeps. But then by fantastic chance he comes upon Mexican duck hunting guides who can speak English. He tells them his story and his quest for the sea. They say there is no outlet to the sea. But then one among them agrees to tow Alex back to his basecamp [behind a small motor skiff], and drive him and the canoe in the bed of a pickup truck to the ocean. It is a miracle.
McCandless, Christopher Johnson.
• •
Heyman Lane Blues.
Gaginng on the minutes is Mr.Clock. The nooks they offer him directions. They’re speaking; no, yelling. Then the first streak of light permeates through the windows, undulating the barren floor and its warm veneer of darkness. This frustrates the radio who gets very little attention for all her singing.
Behind closed doors, where classy people do rotten things.
This one, not the one that I talk about all the time. But the other one- unethical and acutely hypocritical. If she asks for more I’ll shove a cleaver up her cunt.
Insulated from so many things; not warned of even more things.
Mistaking praises for innuendos.
The smart kids will start a religion. The smarter kids will study politics. The smartest kids will start a war.
Not quite stable.
Small triumphs, large tragedies.
as if your prettiness is going to feed me.
fuck them who say they want to make the world a better place. disrespectful losers.
a banana shaped banana, rice cake and a cookie with lukewarm 1% milk for dinner.
I was up in a tree, chewing on the leaves when all the beautiful people started to evaporate.
Everyone thought I was dancing but it was the floor; it was very hot and the trees were out of my reach.
“you better than them you got in bed with”
the difference between things- contemplating vs doing and unhappiness vs depression.
Black history month. Native American history month??
Otis,”this bitch is supposed to hook me up with food, weed and feelings. shit!”
Ironic; like a porn named, “could’ve loved you”
the longer you’re awake, warmer the body gets; eye cells vibrate.
the newness of morning tea.
weave a future and struct it into something favorable.
the old lady got fired because the kids wanted a stir-fuckin-fry dinner.
“a woman who writes feels too much”, Anne Sexton
the actress is wiping the painkillers off her nose with her favorite dress; pretty she looks in those smeared streaks of white.
Nick Drake used to play his guitar and sing, facing the wall because he was very shy.
Simple, from a distance.
Your horse is taller than mine.
“fewer casualties”, J. Tillman.
What’s more beautiful than the abandoned shreds of something beautiful. At first you’re thinking this shit is weak. That you got gypped. You curse it the entire night, claiming it never hit you. Maybe you lied. Maybe you didn’t. Who knows? If they did, would they care? Then you call it a night and come to bed and “pum pum pudum pum pum pum” that shits hits you. It’s all inwards from then on. All the shit you don’t pay attention to- cow doo doo, the drugs you never try, lies that affect no one, trivial secrets, bland adventures, broken cigarettes, songs that never escape you, the weird friend of a friend whom you won’t smile upon, dirty napkins and jealousy- the other side of nothing.
Writing checks your ass will never be able to cover amigo
August 10, 2011
At the break of dawn, on the colder side of my bed, he lies slanted and shivering.
In shores, people come and go in twos. Holding hands in the back of pickup trucks equipped with loud mufflers.
He buys his grocery from fair trade but dines where Spanish speaking migrant workers bleed too hard for too little. In a hotel room, they sleep in fours and cry while looking at pictures of those on the other side of the imaginary line. Whom they promised a better future, better luck and better dreams.
the leaves cover everything else, in October.
I undressed her, first; her moonlit angular carnals emitted some sort of luminescence that permeated through the drunken stupor, my insides and conscience- I seemed to think I had one.
cosmo
10th May 2011.
Once upon a time, I quit smoking cigarettes. Not too long ago, I was living in a dorm room. Everyone started leaving. Its 3 am now and somehow I ended up in a residential area in Richmond. Awkwardly being part of a family in mothers day. I am standing outside of a house with no light shining on me. I look to the stars, there are so many of them. I think of how insignificant I am. then i pause and the actualization hits me that it was these very stars that exploded to form beings mundane as us.
One by one.
Whose pomegranate lip balm will have to rent a new place?
Who’ll father your child?
Who’ll keep your wife warm?
Who’ll love her like clay?
Who’ll wrap their lean thigh around her hips?
Who’ll choreograph their needs to yours?
Who’ll look for you in the penumbra of words to forgotten songs?
Who’ll nurture your ghost?
Who’ll replace you in that bathtub meant for two?
Who’ll bake you a cake?
Who’ll whip the cream?
Who’ll read you like a book but keep you like a secret?
Who’ll think of you in the solstice?
Who’ll long for you in the equinox?
Who’ll keep the promises you made?
Who’ll miss you- first thing in the morning and last thing at night
Who’ll lick your lover’s spine?
Who’ll discern the details of the other, darker, side of your character?
What will your reviewed paycheck look like?
Who’ll your mother be proud of?
Whose dreams will fall like rocks?
What will your broken empire look like?
Who’ll hanker for your ignorance-
Only to overlook it
Who’ll memorize your insecurities
Who’ll count the days till you are 21
Then 22,
And maybe 23.
