she can't feel it when he touches her face she's eternally numb to everything.

when she was young she used to dust for fingerprints on every banister she couldn't trust,

when she was young she used to look at the rain through her polaroid and once she even saw the eclipse and she twisted her fingers together and crumpled like a paper swan in the front yard, she was so overcome with feeling that she couldn't contain it.

she was prone to blacking out, to crying and drinking glasses of wine till she went blind.

Last week she gave away everything that meant anything so her walls are empty, she has a looking glass, she has a box full of keys to things she swears she will sometimes find but has never found as of yet, she has a kaleidescope and a picture of the eclipse taped to the emptiness above her window.

she has no middle fingers, she has no wedding rings, and no secrets. she is wrapped up in wallpaper, she eclipses with the silence.

i love you, sufjan.

i have this feeling that something terrible is going to happen and the world will explode in earthquakes and everyone will forget how to say i love you and the walls will corrode and we'll all be insufferably, inescapably, cold.

funfunfun and awkward altercations in ravines, new and exciting randoms, stolen slurpees, and i still havent started studying :)

me and mine and you and yours but what happens when these become indistinguishable?

i saw hundreds of exotic birds today, their wings hit the ceiling and sometimes they'd fall and hit the floor without making a

sound

also i saw the park and miles and miles of skyscrapers cutting into the blue blue sky

also i had to breathe through your fingers because cold air scrapes against my lungs like letter openers and i guess this is why im such an invalid from december to february.

also i finally confessed to you that i have no faith in people and you're human and i'm human so how is this ever going to work? you said i have to have faith in me, and you'll have to have faith in you i guess and that's all there is.

you can make sense of the nonsensical

i am missing my copy of perks of being a wallflower

i am selfish and i always want you to stay

"line them up against the wall and i'll buy a gun"
"oh don't worry, we have one at home. We're willing to lend it out."

i love stolen snippets of conversation

love

make your love too wild for words

also i love jack white like a little brother

oh and also

you're the yellow bird that i've been waiting for

must. begin. studying. okay.

young snake's got my name

nyah nyah nyah

and we all become who we want to be, we just don't notice when it happens or how or when and we can never predict who's going to end up next to us in the polaroids.

clean sheets and ice on windows and footsteps that don't make a sound and im always forgetting my camera and downtown and thousand hours of shopping and lady gaga and christmas lights and driving in circles because destinations arent always necessary

artificial warmth

we drink more wine, know that well be out soon, well be down the drain. the creases of your hands suggest wedding rings, suggest sawdust and too much sun and the incessant strumming of guitar strings. your fingers are gutterbound leaves. we are under bridges in car parks, in the underbelly of this something that we swim beneath, pretend to live in. we scale buildings, sketch skyscrapers untill they become us. we are spires of cement. we pretend to love the mist in the morning rising off of cold water, the ice that paints our windows with heiroglyphics. really they just leave us cold and we're all about artificial warmth. you can see it in this smile.

you say you love me but you cut the syllables all wrong, your broken boned, disjointed speech stings my eyelids, turns my knuckles white sometimes.

and i say it, just to scare you,

what if i die? you'll wonder why you spent so much time loving something this temporary when you could have been with something that lived forever.

you stopped painting highways and landscapes and the inside of your mother's hands when you met.

i'm giving you back whatever i took from you.

deer in japan!

Well actually

Laura Mars is the best

(ice cream sundaes, soon-to-be-turquoise-walls, smell of christmas, wool sweaters, skipping school, a million days till mexico, finishing papers, are up in the running)

now please excuse me while i delete my facebook for a weekend

Super Human

super human 1000 words plus another 500 words a quiz a lecture a screenplay

soonsoonsoon it will be over!

OH and ps im probs going to MEXICO with a bunch of very wonderful people!

except because the universe is unjust i get to stay for one week instead of three

i know im insanelyyyy lucky, no complaints

it just pisses me off that i have school and work and bullshit and these people get to Have Fun For Extended Periods of Time Not Just The Weekends

but then i know at the same time i'm one of those purposeful people who has to be doing some sort of something to stay sane so ok maybe its my fault not the universe's!

iamsostressediamsostressedoutiamsostressedoutiamsostressedoutah

hi hello

this is what i used to look like!

i want my bangs back

me: hey do you ever feel like your brain is a contradiction?
you: YES, alllllll the time.
me: ok, i feel ok then. as long as its not just me.

hurricane drunk

i am a bitch
at times

and i apologize for my less than acceptable behavior

sometimes i feel a little smothered, it comes a little naturally

i need to learn to keep my room clean. lets seeeeee, this week has been shopping trips in the rain, seeing old forgotten friends, buying gold necklaces, vinyl, teal lace, upside down and inside out umbrellas. It's been random trips to IKEA retarded amounts of schoolwork, successful thrifting, people who make me happy, tequila and i love my boyfriend times 543233.

so i guess, life is pretty good :) :)

I would like to break up with shakespeare. please and thankyou and i dont want to be friends.

i find it strangely interesting that someone somewhere who has no idea who i am has probably stumbled across my blog and found it somewhat intersting and now i am thinking of them thinking that i am interesting and i think that that's interesting because im uninteresting but i guess especially to myself because i have no secrets that i keep from myself

at least i don''t think i do

the math annex is deserted and im listening to that time and blogging and turning up the volume and it's dark out and remember that time i would only eat boxes of tangerines?

tan
ger
ines

and oh hey remember that time when i would only read shakespeare? Titus andronicus is sucking the life out of me and i only read the sparknotes. i am lame. i try to like shakespeare really i do

it just pisses me off that 29292992 hours of school are devoted to him and no one mentions e.e. cummings and t.s. elliott was a footnote and ALL SHAKESPEARE TRAGEDIES END THE SAME

EVERYONE DIES

and i know that in the scheme of things

EVERYONE DIES

but he could really diversify the conclusions to his plays

come on now

YES

"A mule kicked Uncle Bob once. Broke his ribs. He punched it in the face.. My point? You have an ingrown fucking toenail. Stop bitching."

parrots speak in tongues

He was asking how many days there were in winter, whether stars can drown in oceans, if parrots could speak in tongues. And i was nodding, slurring a litany of maybe-i-suppose-sos that were drowned a little in the music of the river thrumming against the steel skeleton of the boat. The water sent sil We played cats cradle and watched our skin peel off beneath all that ultraviolet light that made our eyes look dim like fireflies dying.

elephants and ghosts

The Titanic

bonewhite and broken
barnacles cling to my skin
we’ll tie paper airplanes
and peacock feathers
to our feet when we feel
like flying a little
and you’ll kiss me through my clothes
you’ll say
don’t forget the name
or the face
or the locks in our doors
the gaps in my teeth
the holes in your jeans and
i’ll carve you on the backs of my hands
with the edges of barnacles

it’s elephants and ghosts
that never forget

The Graduate.

I found this on my computer, it was an english assignment,

i shouldve been the fucking valedictorian

:)

To The Graduates,

I have watched you walk down the hallways, head hung at half mast, carrying all the little splinters of your broken heart like they exceed the weight of Armageddon, blitzkrieg or maybe Hitler’s very first attempt at oil painting. In actuality, the human heart weighs approximately 8 to 12 ounces, dependent on your gender and your build. This is not an attempt to belittle your problems, merely to portray them honestly. I have walked beside all of you as you celebrated all the little, inconsequential half steps in life. Your mother wallpapered your kitchen with kindergarten diplomas and certificates praising you on your inability to be tardy, your singing voice that put you among such musical legends as the Von Trapp family, or maybe the Celine Dion’s of the world. I have shared your history. If you look closely, my name will be somewhere in the margins of your memoir, just to the right of James, the misunderstood, anarchist skateboarder you always wished you were and Charles, the soup kitchen employee who patted you on the back like you were off to fight wars whenever he said goodbye to you. You would bus home, listen to the woman behind you talk to the window and sleep with your head against the sky. I know because I sat just a little to the left of you.

It is important to remember that, up until now, our lives have been parallel, pre-organised by our parents and society. We differentiate ourselves by carving out little niches in the soon-to-be obsolete social hierarchy apparent only in cafeteria table groupings. The hierarchy is determined largely by who wears the most eyeliner, can throw the most perfect spiral across a green, green field. Ultimately we write the same tests. We despise the same teachers. We have probably kissed some of the same lips. We watch the same late night reruns, eat gallons of ice cream when our 10 ounce hearts are lying somewhere under the kitchen sink. We all go home, cry into the couch and think NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ME, in capitals and italics, just to emphasize our alienation and to underline the fact that this is NOT trivial. This is obviously blitzkrieg. This is genocide. The splinters of our hearts are being slaughtered and obliterated by the indifference of life and football-playing ex-boyfriends. We all have the same incorrect and exaggerated perception of our non-issues. This is undeniably true.

When I step off the podium you will all shuffle and teeter across a stage, smile while wearing the same dated hats and the same robes that have no colour scheme. We will be robed in blue, little carbon copies of each other, our skin painted up with the hieroglyphics of shared experiences. What differentiates us is whether or not we found this sameness comforting, terrifying, oppressive, or nothing at all.

What is it you intend to do once you say goodbye to a million shades of beige walls? (Note: the government is all about economizing, and they’ve never fully appreciated feng shui. The government feels that feng shui and high fashion are on the same level of unimportance as research and development. They are almost as disillusioned as a gym full of teenagers, riddled with angst.) There will be no more clear cut divisions, lockers and time tables will not continue to divide all the little inconsistencies of our lives. There will be no hierarchical system to define ourselves by. We become what we allow ourselves to be. Is this liberating? Is this frightening? Your uniqueness is going to actually exist; you have the potential to completely disassociate yourself from society and live, entirely undefined, in some hippy hellhole in northern B.C. Will you do this? Or will you commute for hours, waste your life praying for wars as you sit in the glow of traffic lights and the heavenly beams of all the CEO’s, as they pat you on the back? They congratulate you for “doing the right thing.” But is it their right or is it your right? Don’t be afraid to ask the question but more importantly, don’t be afraid to find your own answer.

things are different
air tastes like cold
my fingernails are usually dirty
i am everywhere at once
especially, notably, hysterically

i am writing plays and poetry and hoping to find time for paint. i finally took photos again, i missed it

taking pictures of a tidal wave

It feels like time to let it go
It feels like time to break or show
It feels like time to cut your breaks
Shut your mouth, do something, anything

It feels like time to fuck or leave
It feels like I choke you just to breathe
It feels like time ain't time at all
Just black out, wake up foreign, wander home

Take me out, lay me down
Let the dirt fall all around me
Baby ain't it good to be back home?
They're burning futures in the mountains
All lit up, ya you can count yours
Baby ain't it good to be back home?

It feels like just another day
Like one more dead town's last parade
Like we're taking pictures of a tidal wave
On the shore grinning a hundred feet away
It feels like time ain't time at all
Just black out, wake up foreign, wander home

Take me out, lay me down
Let the dirt fall all around me
Baby ain't it good to be back home?
They're burning futures in the mountains
All lit up, ya you can count yours
Baby ain't it good to be back home?
Ain't it good to be back home?

oh dear

two term papers, two essays, two quizzes, two creative writing assignments, three exams, one week of no parents, three concerts, one birthday held at my house, four missed calls, two days of carpooling with Unknown Neighbour boy, one week of not seeing my boyfriend, one night of no sleep, one day of hey i actually like your company, at least one day of cleaning

how the fuck am i going to pull this off

weirdly i am getting the worst mark in creative writing

like almost a C

something is wrong

i thought i loved to write

turns out i love to write for myself

i cant stand writing for other people, it makes my words twist into themselves in mispronounced redundancy

...it's in the water, too.

i must remember that teeth on my tongue don't always equate to clipped wings

we speak volumes in silence (so you don't have to yell, i listen to your whispers and to your feet as they tapdance in the cold)

little reminder that in life no one needs what's unattainable, we can live beautiful existences after having accepted that that which we cannot have is unhaveable and this is not necessarily a travesty.

nice to talk and talk and realize that people seem to be on the same page as me with frustrations and reinventions and falsities and confusion,

we walked across bridges, sat in theatres, licked salt off of fingertips and we laughed with our heads tilted towards where the sun would be rising in a million hours if the clouds could just grow wings, fly south with the birds

i feel like sometimes i don't do a good enough job of showing you how i love you, entirely and in everyway imagineable.

i'm so happy to have gotten an A on my proposal, passed the L test, had a wonderful night

whoever's in charge of the universe and my luck and whatnot THANKYOU times 432

Canvas

i painted this on halloween day :)

I just remembered i forgot

halloween

we are drinking in ditches, tripping across sidewalks, the lights in the busses are off. we are haunting hallways flashing lights falling over. raccoons cross the street like bandits on the run and we fall into forests, outside liquor stores, in your hands. i am wearing a red velvet pirate hat, my eyes are on fire

we all sprawl over eachother inside dirty pick up trucks, light fires, watch murder mysteries, talk, reheat chinese food. we forget to fall asleep

the light on the wall is a perfect replica of your face
and even the way your voice sounds

the morning is awake before we sleep

don't ever tell me how this felt if you werent there to feel it

please and thankyou

Joie de vivre

This Is Not Meant to Offend

I found that my dad's work computer has sudoku

i fucking LOVE sudoku

ahhhhh, its beautiful. i am a sudoku MASTERR

yesterday was yesterday was yesterday. I saw regina spektor slamming on chairs and piano keys and everything else and i love the orpheum, crystal chandeliers swinging ,painted ceilings and pencil skirts and it was so nice to see Karly, Laura, Sarah and even weirdly satisfying to see Quinn the enigma who i feel like i know right down to his skeleton even though we've barely spoken. best friends of best friends always seem known, ive vicariously lived next to him, jumped fences with him, smoked joints built fires laughed untill i cried with him i don't know. sometimes i think my sense of empathy compromises my sense of self. does that make sense? sort of? I finally talked to Zak which was nice, I think it would be really great to be friends again but other people don't share this sentiment which makes me feel uncomfortable, like my arms and legs have to bridge gaps and i have to balance saying with not saying with trying really hard not to breakdown

im starting to feel a bit like my emotional instability could be a breaking point between me and the people i love most. it already is becoming one and i'm a little bit terrified of how this is going to pan out. i really want to isolate myself from everyone right now so i don't become a complicating factor in their lives. But people think i'm purely being distant, avoidant. There's just some stuff you have to work out for yourself, when you have to repaint your skin and you have to balance the time it takes to rebuild your parameters with school and family and seeing people and trying to have time for the things you love and trying to take care of your responsibilites and considering jobhood, lifehood, adulthood

just thinking about all of this overwhelms me

i feel like i have this need to talk about life and paint and art and emotions and the little consequential beautiful slivers of everything and love. love is such a deep canyon that i cant even begin to comprehend all of it's innumerable complexities, hidden just below the surface, just below the ground. I feel like it's hard for me to talk about the surface and I feel like when this is expected of me i feel frustrated, limited, empty, and just generally a little disenchanted with the shallowness of some people's perspectives. I'm not saying that there is a right or wrong way to think and i don't want to come off as condescending, pretentious, wiser-than-thou because that's bullshit. It's just different ways to live, to see and for myself, personally, it's hard to consider going back to the surface of things when life in the canyon feels so much more real, even if it seems somewhat empty, with infrequent but amazing visitors. I feel like I'm compromising or limiting the me that's ACTUAL if i stick with this sort of shallow life. there's the facade and then there's me, everyone has these crazy layers but i just don't need the facade anymore because me is just fine. Me just doesn't necessarily fit into the old parameters. ( i know this is abstract but is this nonsensical? it's my instinctive feeling right now and im untying the knots of my frustrations i guess)

and love is love is indescribable. it's when all your limbs overlap and the other person's fingers actually feel like your own when they're wrapped in yours, the borders are gone and in the takeitorleaveit game of association you are taking it with all that comes wrapped around, tangled in it, addictions, frustrations, flaws, fuck it. it's yours and you're okay with that. you are actually so happy to have the ability and the strength to BE THERE through that. it's not complications that scare you away (although i am aware that this can come off the wrong way, naive even. If the complications are too big for you, so monumental that they threaten to bulldoze your own walls, your own definitions and in so doing compromise your identity you should stray. this is understandable) Just so often people are in it for this fairweather love where when everything's happy, kissing cheeks, no problems, having sex, its love. It's not love, it hasn't even been tested. its convenience and idealized notions and laziness and so often inconsiderate.

when people say things like i'm impressed you're stil in a relationship, or isnt that hard, or does so and so have issues? how can you deal with that? i actually want to slap them across the face. Unless the issues are big enough to leave your sense of YOU a casuality, if you're still intact (and to be honest with you: most problems are manageable, serious, debilitating drug addiction and chemical inbalances are not manageable. i'm not trying to trivialise these things) it just seems demeaning, selfish, and downright lazy to question that person's worth and relevance in your life based on their problems. It seems fucking inconsiderate to cast that person off, to shrug or laugh at their problems and claim that yours are bigger, that you don't have time for theirs, and expect them to come back and listen to your bullshit and have empathy towards you.

empathy has to work both ways.

a friendship, relationship, whatever is completely empty when someone's going through something that defies your sheltered conceptions of what's okay and instead of caring you say fuck it, fuck you, fuck this. You're intensifying their problems and you can't expect them to trust you, confide in you, or want to surround themselves with you if you're exemplifying this kind of bullshit lazy selfishness.

Because, lets face it, LIFE is beyond those OKAY parameters. Life is ups and downs and addictions and homeless people splayed out under comforters on the bus route we take everyday that you dont see because youve become desensitized to everything that lies beyond the parameters of LA LA LA life is okay. fuck that okay is a trivial noncomital overused word that means fuck-all today. life is wars life is guns life is heart attacks and almost dead and praying for people you don't even know even if youre not completely sure about god's existence, just because you recogniase that out there there is hurt and brain tumors and desolation and decay and leprosy and disease and isolation and inebriated untill he hits someone and coughing up blood in blue painted dumpsters and amphetamines and babies born addicted to meth

I'm not trying to suggest that life is an insurmountable obstacle, that life is a montage of tragedies

i solemnly believe that underneath this ugliness there is compassion, there is beauty, there is art, there is love

i believe that life even in the worst times is worth living because there are licked lollipops, alligned horzons, first kisses, sunshine that clings to hair, beautiful eyes, hopeful smiles, holes in jeans, rainbows in midafternoon, snowstorms that trap you where you want to be, strangers who will someday grow to love you like youre their only living relative, people who will find the meaning of life and keep it hidden under their bed, tied to the roof of their mouths, because its different for everyone. to think that there is a universal meaning of life underestimates individualism. beautiful myths that were maybe true and will one day maybe reestablish their trueness, unbrushed hair, scuffed shoes, pink cheeks, smudged lipstick but still smiling, kisses with meaning, hands that fit perfectly, life changing novels, words worth using,


i believe that there's a sliver of something intangible and wonderful in all of us

i dont want to conceptualise this and call it soul

but its something comparable to that

i wholeheartedly believe in it's existence, i feel like its in our hands. or maybe its more like the aura, that imperceptible indescribable something that art historians claim certain pieces have. I mean aura in that sense, not a halo of feathery purple light or that bullshit.

But i don't know sometimes i find it difficult. i don't like to talk about sex, about closeness, because i feel like that in itself is something that you share with someone you love and yourself, keep it like a secret and sometimes it can make you smile but it shouldnt be divulged in detail, no one should really be privvy to the details just because that kind of trivialisation of something that, in my opinion, stands for so much more than what our society claims it does, just seems disresepectful. in a way youre compromising yourself and the other party in making whats private public. It makes me sad more than anything. Especially societies totally inconsistent views of sex, it is both subject to taboo yet its also been commercialised, sold as a product, targetting our most base human desires. It's disgusting and i think its truly manipulative of people, not to mention it gives a generation the notion that sex is fine, casual sex is great, and often that that's all that sex is, just an outlet for your horny fantasies that can happen with anyone. Yet for myself, even in times where i've wanted to adopt that attitude towards all romantic interractions, i havent been able to. i think that problematic inconsistency that our culture expresses towards sex leaves a lot of us feeling like "yes this is okay" but then afterwards, we experience the shame and the guilt. That's because we're not really hardwired to be slaves to our hormones, or our desires. we're hardwired to love and be loved and i think that closeness needs to be there prior to sex and i think that if it exists at all you're not going to divulge things that should otherwise be kept secret, because your love and your intimacy towards and with this person basically doesnt allow you too. it feels wrong, immoral, and gregarious to talk about that.

And i absolutely hate how women so blindly objectify themselves and guys are okay continuing this sort of patriarchal model of sex and intimacy where they lie there in the fucking boxers their mom bought them at fucking zellers where girls parade around in lacy bras, negligees, whatnot. It seems unfair that women are expected to prance around for men as sexual objects even though i thought this sort of sense of submissive sexual repression was a thing we'd forgone, it still manifests itself and no one seems to notice. Girls feel good about themselves when they illicit whatever amorous response they're striving for. When did our level of sexual experience and skill become a factor in determining our self worth or social status? I find that in itself degrades any sort of personal emotional needs and TRUE identity, the kind of identity that goes beyond the surface "the canyon identity" if you will. I also feel that it degrades sex and contextualizes it as an act, rather than an extension of closeness and intimacy between two people.

sex is a product, it's a fucking brand name that we write across our chest and brag about to our friends and i think it's disgusting and depressing that is been reduced to that.

even the purely animalistic sex as reproduction exceeds this model in it's respectability, and it just seems ironic how much we trivialise and reduce important concepts. progress doesnt exist, evolution is what? define societal evolution.


its just terrifying when you open your eyes up to all of these bizarre social norms, structures, and all the preconceived notions that we adopt, not for ourselves. it seems more like we are adoptED by some sort of social network, some sort of sociocultural identity which we write on our foreheads without questioning.

this frightens me.

weird and terrible revelations

i think i might be happy, even though im not really supposed to be.

no seriously

right now im sitting in an abbandoned office in this building that smells like old with vines traipsing across the outside, all twisted like cats cradle tied around your fingers. there is no noise, only footsteps. i talked to will for an hour before my phone, and i sat next to randoms in all of my classes. i like people and inconsequential conversations and smiles and looking people in the eye under red umbrellas. for some reason after this whole best friend fiasco i havent said im sorry yet

i always say im sorry

but the last 400 times its made me feel worse. because im not sorry, i'm just covering for my reactions to having been hurt or humiliated or pissed off in order to save someone else from being guilty or hurt. Sometimes i don't deal with stuff, i don't answer phones, and i just sleep for a million years or untill life feels manageable. i'm not saying THIS is the way to be, that i am a model of conflict resolution or stress management. fuck no. i just feel like i have a right to react and to feel and i don't have to always be considerate of other people's feelings before i consider mine.

And to be completely honest id rather be alone, with paint between my fingers, and a few people who i love than have friends who make me feel terrible.

no more door matness, dont care what this means i lose, whether its certain friends, a nice reputation, a consistent seat in a class, i gain my self back. im really excited

and there'a still people who i love, who even though we live in slightly different worlds somehow manage to make me smile whenever i see them (laura, veronica, sera, karly, claire, brad, will, dylan,)

i feel lucky to have overlapped lives with all of you :)

happiness depends on ourselves

happiness depends on ourselves
happiness depends on ourselves
happiness depends on ourselves
happiness depends on ourselves

i will say this as many times as i need to untill it becomes real :)

i'm getting rid of the cobwebs in my life, sweeping the floors and emptying my attic.

i will pass the L test. I will apply for jobs. i will write the most fucking awesome paper in the entire world and i will paint my face my walls the bottoms of my feet untill i am all the colours of gasoline rainbows technicolour dreamcoats refugee eyes the grand canyon wrapped around my wrists

i am inspired

even though i've been happier, im feeling alive. those intangible tinglings of AHA! there is a purpose.

I painted a canvas that i like
im writing music again for the first time in a long time
im writing things that are truthful and ugly and beautiful, spiderweb wonderful words
im going to get off the awful medications that make me tie myself up in knots when no one's looking
who gives a fuck if im boobless and underweight again
i know theres someone out there who loves me and doesnt give a fuck

which is the best feeling in the entire world

thankyou universe

I am inconceivably lucky

even though i sometimes accidentally light my hair on fire

I'm starting to think i'm never going to go home


ah school, leave me alone.

Life is insanity right now.

Its been failing L tests, running down library aisles, staying at school so late that the sky is black cat wonderful and you can sometimes see your breath when you step into the light. The leaves sound like static, lost radio stations underneath your feet and i am writing papers, taking notes, reading, avoiding sleep, trying to remember where my creativity went. the dust and the walls and the endless piles of books feel suffocating. i want paint and fresh flowers and photographs of my best friends and beautiful strangers with red umbrellas and perfect posture

it still feels empty

but i appreciate the insanity

it distracts me from the stagnation i feel at school

i think i need to be doing a hundred things at once to feel the tiniest bit purposeful

missing busses watching boats on fire i am manic but happy and its raining and theres sparrows around our feet, wings bent and crooked. Their eyes are spun out of copper wires. i swear. really i think they are

and i waltz in way too late and tired and the walls are swallowing me, i sometimes have to remember that they aren't mine

but i think it was worth it

bus rides and coffee cups and faces i cant forget. my ears are still ringing from your voice

staralfur

someone better pay me to write shit and travel and watch bands play music

if they dont im going to fucking reap anarchy and madness and everyone will be all AH PSYCHOTIC CRAZY WOMAN! and then when i write my completely fabricated memoir all of north america will buy it and ill be on the new york times booklist

because people are fucking retards like that

they love dissent, they love madness, they love to think WOW SHES FUCKING CRAZY im so glad to be me etc.etc

people think in etcs

no actually

people live in etcs

its really tragic if you think about it

AH IM HUNGRY

i think i if i consume anymore chocolate i run the risk of vomming unapologetically over the shit im writing for creative writing

im writing about sarajevo and andalusian gypsies and forest fires and the bible

it sounds exciting

unfortunately it isnt really

fucking chocolate. i need to learn when to say when.

sooo mostly i love me some buffy the vampire slayer, pizza, sleeping in, lurking blogs, sunshine, sigur ros, researching obscure topics, sitting on floors, kissing, meandering. remembering AHA! I DO HAVE FRIENDS! i just need to put the effort in to see them, the fucking road sense is for retards book, sweaters with gold buttons, paint, knitwear, video wall posts, shitmydadsays, the wtf blanket, coffee, mcdonalds, chocolate (love/hate), the time travellers wife, seperating laundry, full moons, orange skies, yayahurray i leave on thursdays

and yeah

i think im remembering how to make myself happy

after a summer of so much insanity tequila travelling never sleeping and everything else

you forget how to stand still sometimes

AHHH! matt good and regina spektor and halloween and princess leia and christmas and new years and im so fucking excited to be alive

love

so just follow the leader

but what if there's no one in front of you and you can see for miles behind you?

it's hard to not turn around, thats what.

i wish i could wear your skin

hottest, most wonderful women in the world

aka im procrastinating

spin me around again

we talk too fast u cant write words the way i want to anymore. lifes all imogen heap and repainting walls i am mummified in paint chips facing east. dont forget me. i wont forget the way your name feels in my mouth before i flick my tongue and set it free i wont forget how to sing or say more without saying anything. the ground feels empty under my feet sometimes

i lose my mind in the bus sometimes, throw it out the window to swim through the gutter and maybe smother itself in kelp and saltwater. could you keep me? i don't always last as long as id like to

i like the bliss of not knowing

soon i will be alive and i can paint paint paint untill i forget how to stop i will be limitless. i can run feet colliding with ground kicking up tornadoes. i can fall i can

unlock the door

stumble into crumbling sidewalks fucking words flying faster than missiles and paper airplanes and yellow birds that you've been waiting for. would you wait for me? what if i paint my skin, grow wings, what if i am feathered and fleeting and flying away? maybe then. count the3 seconds till i see your face and the walls are empty there are no footsteps here we dont touch the ground we float we dont need legs to stand on

did i mention that i found the garden of eden the other day? its painted on my back in every colour imagineable every scrap of the rainbow as seen is fishscales and diamond rings did i mention that i carry it with me everywhere. ive taken to mirror writing. ive taken to breathing you in inhaling you like hallucinogens fuck you and your false realities i want to kiss you unconscious reeling and dreaming well go to sleep in a storm and well wake up miles away time will fall in the gaps between the bars well never see her again. does that hurt you? are you sad? say something please

i ramble on for a million miles

you cant say anything to change my mind you know

i hope you know that

you have perfect diction and you dont forget your commas and i forget my mind sometimes its swimming the gutters with the stingrays and the killer whales that rot beneath your feet

get my name stitched on your lips

sometimes i wonder why i straighten my hair when all these little broken strands spiral in the tornado above the drain. i dont really know. huh.

i tie myself in knots sometimes to keep myself occupied, cross and uncross my fingers. i am reading the classics. i am not going to sleep on time and sometimes not at any time at all. i am struggling through this weird drought, this lapse in creativity and i am smiling through most of it now, not that i was at the beginning. and there are those few unfortunates who always collide with me on bad days and would probably beg to differ. i love life behind a camera lens. it makes the walls look more surmountable. i like lying in your room with no lights listening to iron and wine b-sides and crying because i am so fucking unbelievingly overwhelmingly

happy

i am happy in my skin.

we slept on floors and beaches, orange leaves and sand under our skin, and the stars hung so low they skimmed our heads. im not always remembering not always noticing sometimes losing my mind a little. we tried to hold onto it, that something thats not always tangible and lately difficult to ever wrap my hands around. we shook hands smiled free loaded at outdoor concerts lurked record shops, i stuck some commas and periods and punctuations in my thoughts. we whale watched and wondered

and lately i am thinking about joy division and keep on your mean side and i loved you more

sweet you rock and sweet you roll

hike up your skirt a little more
and show the world to me
i'm bareboned and crazy
for you

we are going somewhere dont disagree (aka laura mars i want your old oxfords)

things i like

john butler trio <3 cutting your hair off <3 falling asleep in someone's arms <3 the fact that i plan on unapologetically dropping out of university and i dont feel the slightest bit bad about it <3 upcoming roadtrips <3 waking up to see the sunrise and THE pinkwinged seagulls sinking into the cloud constellations <3 eating grapes straight off of the vine <3 slurpees and free starbucks because wonderful people DO exist they just sometimes mostly slip between the cracks <3 friends you forgot you had <3 the salvation army <3 my photograpraphs that help me remember where ive been and whos travelled there with me <3 finding exactly where you're meant to be because any time spent anywhere else is time supremely wasted <3

aaaaannnddd

this quote i found on someone else's blog

i think its beautiful

autumn calls for reinvention, a change of scenery. don’t hold back. cut your hair, tell her you love her, tell him you’re leaving, start a band, leave your job, switch your major, do what makes you feel good. the choices you make now will pave the way for the rest of your life. does that always have to be a negative thing? no no no no no no!!! don’t be frightened, things will work out. throw your heart into it & hold your chin up high. we’re going to make a beautiful future. this is the start of something remarkable. (you are remarkable)

peaches and cream

right now at this very second i am listening to dave matthews and i am wondering about the world

university is not what i expected. i dont sit around tables having deep philosophical conversations and drinking too much wine, shaking hands kissing boys forgetting names remembering faces and the curves of wrists and head tilt laughing untill it's tomorrow. this is what i wanted, this is what i expected. this is not what happens.

what happens is i read the classics on bus rides where i guess everyone's astrological signs. she's biting her lip like a scorpio hes crying like a cancer. i breathe in everyone's smells, perfume and skin and sweat and that soap and water smell of real boys. I get to school. i walk to psychology with a girl who loves tim burton and the sky at night. i go to art history and sit next to this boy who makes me laugh and sometimes buys me coffee. i go to philosophy with and sit with a boy who has a british accent and a one syllable name. i sleep in the lime green armchair in my dad's office, frighten the math department with cowboy boots and floral dresses. i sometimes eat lunch with the pidgeon or with friends and then i come home and lie on your floor

its not standingbehindwaterfallwonderful.

not even close

but apparently it's real life

i like what i'm learning.

normalcy just kills my passion. and i cant stay at home anymore i cant stand the walls

If The Elephants Have Past Lives

pretty girls with pretty mouths float above the concrete and i stomp the sidewalk, shoes duct taped to my feet, pale skinned and not knowing where to be. it's disconcerting and everything feels foreign and usually i just want to go home

homehomehome

you know, between the purple sheets or maybe inside your hands or maybe in the paint and the photographs and the words wrapped around my wrists (words like iloveyoupleasebelieveme. and idonthinkiwantobehere.)

i want to be in art school if i have to be in any school but mostly i just want to be where i was in the summer, with flowers in my hair drinking till i'm delerious and falling asleep next to you or on best friends floors. i want to be in busses in backseats of cars sitting behind waterfalls watching the sun set and rise over oceans skinny dipping under full moons sleeping naked painting all the ways you make me feel and synchronizing thoughts to the sound of Cut the Cards

cut the cards makes me cry

but its your song. so i pretend that i dont feel anything because i dont want to take that away from you

i want to build tiny houses with my hands, all rambling with shingles that dont match. i want weathered walls and anonymity and hopping trains and i want to leave purposeful footprints behind me when i walk to anywhereeverywherenowhere

please god let this happen

i miss santeria

i feel like i'm doing what i'm expected to do, get a good education so i can go get a good job and live inside those trivialised overused four letters that mean nothing

i don't feel happy

i'm lonely

OH MY

i have been an absentee blogger

this is going to change

tomorrow

i swear

like legitly

cross my heart and everything

ps hi karly!

i need to catch up on life

we walked across lions gate bridge and i kissed your face and we talked about jumping and falling and the differences between the two. i told you about dreams where the ghost of jeff buckley saves my life and we drink wine and sail the sea

you climbed on the lion, sat between its claws and i laughed and took your picture and all the faces in the windows stared

andwe didnt mind

parted my hair on the opposite side and now i look like a stranger

drunk at carisbrook park, i zig zagged my way home and fell asleep listening to you breathe on the telephone. i steal fragments of my life from conor oberst. this is an irrefutable fact.

skinny dipping under pieces of meteorites, i felt alive. and we drove for 28291920101 hours untill my eyes dimmed

im half asleep still and mostly dreaming

you are a fever.

alos i love the kills

songs about barnacles and elephants

i am sitting here putting songs about barnacles and elephants on to my ipod in preparation for a six hour drive

i slept outside this afternoon wrapped up in sheets in the grass listening to 40 oz to freedom and neurotically dreaming and forcing myself to wake up because i have developed some sort of irrational fear of ants. seriously. i think i may have a problem. lately i fall asleep mostly naked listening to rachael yamagata or talking on the phone, sometimes just breathing because i get too tired and delirious to have anything to say

best night ever

it was the apocalypse behind the window so i unlocked the door and the lightning forked and i danced like a crazy person and puddle jumped like a motherfucker in boots made of snakeskin. the soles are starting to corrode. awhile ago though i stumbled into mintage and there was a wall of cowboy boots so everything might be okay. i feel more like myself in them for some reason. or maybe who i want to be. kind of feel like those two are interchangeable sometimes which is nice

it feels like home

i waved at strangers and stole alcohol and sang out of windows. and then we walked in and i can always tell when you're less than impressed with me and i always pull you into the spare room with fluorescent lighting and dolls lined up on the windowsill with red eyes and i say okay tell me. sometimes i tie myself up in knots waiting for you to just say it, i scratch my arms till their raw and blink, smile, head tilt like marionettes

and then i kiss your face and then we all run laps around the patio. i am an animal. the heat sticks to the doorframes and the windowpanes. everything is technicolour wonderful and i tip over my feet. sometimes i feel like im summersaulting standing up im so heartbreakingly alive. and we drink the tequila we started the night on the tile floor

and soon we are singing out of tune versions of leonard cohen songs by the piano and i'm falling asleep on the couch and you tell me im beautiful even though my skins peeling, im sunburnt, freckled, mosquito bitten, dirty, delerious. and i dont think ill believe you but its nice to hear the words.

i wake up in the morning and hey im allergic to the nest of wool and cat hair we slept in but im still the happiest person alive.

and i went and bought used cds with boys with good taste, ate sushi, and laughed hysterically on late night picnics. and everythings alive and nice and yeah.

its not mine

i don’t need to see your face

ill cut out all my mirrors

and when you hold me and

sun slips through sheets

we are lit with tangerine rind light

lips beestung love drunk and automatic

just say a name

it doesn’t have to be mine

oh no it doesn’t have to be mine

heiroglyphics

and symphonies across my skin

everyone i know flies south

until their skin feels warm enough

to lie dead 

trailing behind their footsteps

like snake skins and elephant tusks

i used to like your leopard spots and

my tiger stripes

we are animals

and sometimes

in our silence

we speak in volumes

just say a name say a name

it wont be mine

 

 

music will always be the most

dear sublime

thankyou so much for inventing summer.

i whole heartedly appreciate it.

the hazards of love

we ate free dunkaroos on the bus and i read lips and you laughed at my face all twisted

and "hey i just realized we're not where we're supposed to be. did you know that?" it was the strangest feeling. lying in your own skin, your own fucking bedsheets, next to someone you love but feeling like you needed to be on canvas, on paper, written up in music notes or braille and not there.

today a dirty man with no teeth gave me artificial flowers and i watched a boy i used to love fall in love with someone who's eyes are the same colour as mine. i met homesick teenagers from a million miles away and watched the decemberists flail across the stage next to best friends and no ones and everyone else that was (entirely or otherwise) there. i blew bubbles and danced and felt alive.

i need to remember to feel that always.

i sipped slurpies and walked long distances in gladiators and cowboy boots and i love waking up next to you it makes me head reel. we found free books and i read to you untill you made me stop because you just wanted to breathe in the smell of my hair and my elbows and i just wanted to watch you smile.

i hope everyone's okay.

my best friend is eternally unimpressed with me for drinking tequila and listening to jimi hendrix at 4 am while sitting on lawns and kitchen floors. i want to say hey we say everything in the moments where we say nothing and when we speak, we speak in volumes. 

and free crepes with moms and eternal sunshine of a spotless mind and resurrected canvases and best friends falling apart after she read her tea leaves and crows lying on my roof and ghosts walking in empty hallways.

theres too many words in me. my fingers are wearing out