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

the smashing pumpkins songs wear out

tarot card readings, and the light seeps through flimsy blue and pink curtains and we can't breathe the air is so thick. i am sensitive and i'm not in love according to the woman with the 293939 syllable name. i smile at her and her eyes which are enormous like blue, blue china plates kept in cabinets beside the stairs.

everyone slept over and we laid on the carpet drinking malibu and laughing and playing guitar after we sat by the ocean, played open mics, and ran down lonsdale doing our own accapella, harmonized version of my girl.

i slept next to you and you woke me up to make sure i was alive. you perpetually dream that i almost-die and whenever you wake up and see me and kiss my face it makes me happy that you're this happy that i still exist.

we slept till noon and made scrambled eggs while listening to santeria. 

we laid on the beach with sand between our toes and then we flew down the highway

we always run through other peoples sprinklers, and everything usually ends in me being manic and drunk but mostly deliriously happy. 

i feel so lucky to have the best friends in the world.

look this is where ive been

my ramona

i need to write these every day again

otherwise i forget where ive been which is almost as disconcerting as entering the future blind and barefoot

today was spent dizzy with resentment and in doctors offices trying to peel off the paint from the walls in the seconds before they tore apart my eyes, x-rayed my body, wrote notes and pretend-smiled at me from behind pretend-plants that grow on pretend end tables. artificiality is strangely commonplace and terrifying, when considered. 

someday we will succeed in creating the whole solar system, every fucking ring of saturn and a whole new earth, life-size and lifeless, out of pavement and plastic. this will be (un)considered huge progress for mankind

dont misinterpret this as morose angsty banter

i'm really quite happy

today we lay tangled in ivy because they barred the roof we used to lie on to watch the stars. (all our places are behind fences now) and i told you how i felt empty after we fucked. how i felt faceless and i dreamed of you looking at me in my dreams, not blinking, reciting a litany of dictionary definitions. you told me i am your best friend and fucking me seems wrong, fucking seems like something you do with temporary people. 

and i wanted to say maybe if we dont think of it as fucking, four letter words pressed between sheets and heavy breathing, it might not feel like that. but i was too busy tying the bluebells and staring into david bowies eyes

sometimes i dont even know what to say

and then there was old friends and guitar strings and smoke and closed windows and bottom drawers full of everything worth keeping but not worth putting in the empty picture frames

i miss the people i used to know (beckiy, tom, mike, tavish, christine, claire, everyone basically)

i live behind the walls of your skin

if that makes sense

and i want to be there

but sometimes i just want to see if the sky is blue but the windows are always closed and blacked out

("I want a pickup and you can drive and i can lie in the back with my arms out like wings and straw in my hair and everyone else will be with us." "but can't it just be us?" and i want to keep you forever and run farther than ive ever ran, instantaneously)

i need a job because lets face us i need monetary compensation and a means to exist. i need to be another fucking taxable little shit in the eyes of the government

and i always see this guy who does everything i do, goes everywhere i go and i think he knows what i need to do with my life. i don't know why he just gives that impression. next time i see him i will be sure to ask. he haunts bus loops and art galleries and indie films and his i-pod is laoded with bloc party and wolf parade b-sides. 

i cant sleep i cant sleep i cant sleep

i have watermelon pop rocks however

which is an improvement over not having watermelon pop rocks

i guess

and there was alice in wonderland festival and flowers in our hair and elevators and me crying and halos made of blackflies and head tilt/broken jaw laughter

adn oceans on my feet and featherfilled basements and best friends and telephone calls and look outs and i love yous and writing on the wall

i cant do all of this

everywhere and everything

hi there, world

it's been forever

and im starting to forget whats been happening

i remember hidden fountains and wandering downtown carrying salvation army lace floor length dresses, starbucks, the backs of record stores, movie seats, 7 hour bus rides, canoe trips, drinking games, staring at full moons and misty midnights swimming under stars, feeling infinite although you'll always disagree, crying and crying and crying when no one's looking, but still loving life, beautiful creatures and white wine in hot tubs till 2 am and i really do love you and best friends and delirious and photographs and a whole lot of mixed emotions about it all

and we dined in simulated luxury with the coalition (whatever that means) and the air was thick enough with smoke to dot your i's and cross your t's and we all forgot to sleep

we'd all lie awake and become animals 

whenever i woke up the ceiling was the floor and i was disalligned but happy