Eyeball Casserole

the end

2009-06-29T00:21:00.002-05:00

i'm moving all my blog activity to www.crampland.blogspot.com. (and also myspace)

hope to see you there.

Mothers' Day 09

2009-05-10T13:59:00.002-05:00

No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away, oh little darling of mine.
I can't for the life of me
Remember a sadder day
I know they say let it be
But it just don't work out that way.
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again

No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away, oh little darling of mine.

I just can't believe its so,
And though it seems strange to say
I never been laid so low
In such a mysterious way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again

But I would not give you false hope
on this strange and mournful day
When the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away
Oh, oh the mother and child reunion

Is only a motion away
Oh the mother and child reunion
Is only a moment away.

--The great and awesome Mr. Paul Simon

Rage-a-hol

2009-05-08T14:44:00.004-05:00

The following quotes are from the great buddhist scholar Shantideva, taken from Anger, by R. Thurman.

Whatever my virtuous deeds may be,
Venerating buddhas, generosity and so on,
Amassed over a thousand aeons--
All are destroyed in a moment of anger.

----

Keeping the mind wounded by anger,
I will never experience peace.
I will have no joy or happiness,
Will lose sleep, writhing with frustration.

----

Anger finds its food in the mental discomfort
I feel, faced with the unwanted happening
And the blocking of what I want to happen;
It then explodes and overwhelms me.

----

I have this strange memory as a child. I came home from school (kindergarten?) and my neighbor and sometimes-babysitter Joanne had created this puzzle or maze for me to follow. She posted arrows and footprints made of brightly colored construction paper with signs leading to where she was in my house. Looking back, I know she probably put some time into it, and that she'd created it just for me. But for no reason at all, I became greatly offended by what I felt was a 'sophomoric' attempt to lull me into playing "connect-the-dots" to my friend. I can't say why. I tore down the signs and recall feeling extremely insulted. I was not disciplined or reprimanded at all, at least not that I can remember. In fact, Joanne appeared completely nonplussed by my rage reaction.

That experience helps me to remember that anger, while very present in my life, seemed to poke its head out at the most inconvenient or nonsensical times. Anger was always part of my way of life. I guess it's one of those things we all grow up with. Expressing it appropriately was (and still is) one of my biggest challenges.

I guess what Shantideva is getting at is that no matter what the root, that anger is no way to live your life. It really screws with your body, brain and ability to relate to the universe around you.

Anger always seemed to have its way of exposing itself through jealousy too. I find it so easy to be jealous of what others have, even if it's simply a (genuine)smile to share or something more complicated, like the body-type I wish I had.

I say no more. I would like to say goodbye to the delusions. It's one thing being piss-poor and getting bossed around by your incapacitated mother at age 32. It doesn't have to be worse. This is all I can do for now.

quietly sick

2009-05-05T21:13:00.003-05:00

i doubt what i have is related to any sort of "Swine Flu," but it's certainly no fun and i hope it goes away soon. it's just what i'd call periodic nausea, usually when it's dark outside and all decent people are sleeping or watching network TV or something.

happy cinco de mayo, everyone in all the americas. i am officially a free woman, btw! probation was a learning experience, and it certainly doesn't feel like a whole year has gone by.

i've started a new blog--it kind of prompted me to since i opened a gmail account.

it's been one of those "rain events," i think it's been raining for days. i miss going to the park.

breathe (remember to)

2009-04-27T19:47:00.002-05:00

i went to the gym today for the first time. it kind of sucked but i guess i can get used to it. the people were fine, it was the damn treadmill, i think it was trying to eject me or something. i sweated through my t-shirt and tried to stay hydrated...now i'm exhausted and am wishing the clothes would hang themselves up.

i'm hoping for a beautiful life someday.

might as well JUMP!

2009-04-21T18:30:00.002-05:00

(...go 'head and jump.)

i'm so lucky that this internet-land allows me to post a journally-newsy-poemy-complainy-type thing that stays around, and doesn't GO anywhere! holding a pen gives you a cramp, but this...there's nothing like it. and i wanna say "thank you" to um, whomever maintains this sort of thing for us non-linear thinkers who refuse to make time for, uh, "programming." (i barely passed C++ and feel a bit nostalgic for "GOTO 10" types of humor.)

thanks.

i raise my glass to you.

(not literally, right now. like, later on when i take a sip of something, such as water, cranberry raspberry apple juice that has gotten warm in my mother's car)

blogging has provided me with a reference for personal growth. (this is the brochure-part of things)

ok, it's over now. the brochure.

while a firm believer in adult ADD, i do not know how i would relay information to students-- that is, if i were a teacher, like i was supposed to be. that made no sense.

i mean, "capsules" of information...using more than one of the body's senses. like the ultimate art teacher's grim duty of reading the Vincent VanGogh story to a bunch of kindergarteners, who are probably smarter in every way than the teacher herself. WHAT did i do wrong? WHY didn't the kids care about the part where he sliced his ear off when i'd gone over that part of the book so many times with my co-op teacher..."SHOULD I??? SHOULDN'T I???! MENTAL ILLNESS?? FLOWERS???? DUDE WITH RED HAIR AND A BEARD??? WHAT MATTERS HERE? WHAT is the
CULTURAL YUM-YUM?"

yes, i failed out of student teaching. i'm not sure why this is coming up now.

somehow i think i i i i i i i iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii knew that iiiii'd never "pass." it's very easy to want to blame someone else. it was one of my many colorful and boring nervous-breakdowns.

anyway, i got the diploma. and things have changed since 2000, uh?

"The future's open wide..."

Emotions are part of learning, you primitive daumbasses. <----- ?

Seriously. We were never allowed recovery from humiliation in the classroom. Were we? Now were we?

(Wedontneeednoeducationwedontneednothoughtcontrol)

the only problem: i've been charged with 2 misdemeanors. not sure if i'm allowed near a school for seven years.

stay tuned, mofo's.

red game

2009-04-06T22:02:00.004-05:00

(this is a work in progress)

peetah czarina is sich agin
peetah czarina is sich, all in?
peeter.

lies in the canopy of stinking pinkish flurry
vines in time with the sinking moss-pits where the
deer would like to

tramp o'er czarina
tramp o'er czarina

tramp o'er her petal bones as she sneeeeeeezesss:

"a'hooo bless youuu."

II

"which one is this, they all seem to have problems,
the girls in this family have
strange-bearn' emblems"

-papa's concern is swampy at best
inside his gryphon's crest and dylan collection

well i enjoy these morphine dreams
just the same as they cleanse my
too-eager, too-ignorant, not-quite adolescent
brain.

what time could it be when it stinks in here of
honey and warm un-pasteurized milk from
who-even-cares?

peter and cyril and beryl and iryl
and nestor and hector and vicky-yoon
play this certain game involving
"funeral of the children"

no, mind the bees

one of those kids got stung when they smoked
from my retired pipe

who-even-cares; milk somebody.
milk something.

czarina's wasting away
and she's more beautiful every day

her bones are so beautiful

today

i'd love to

slide in there

sheets

during cracks

of intermittent fire

sirens

and she's safe

and her fire

is the hearth of starvation

is it ok to talk about depression?

2009-04-05T19:31:00.002-05:00

come ON. i know the glass is half-full...i know this intellectually, but sometimes i just don't feel it.

blah.

.
.
.

Starvation Stories (while I prep for the test)

2009-04-02T20:18:00.002-05:00

Bud went a-walkin in the forest and met a bear.

Bud said, "Look at you. Too fat to fit inside my sports-car. Ha, ha, ha."

The bear just stared back blankly at Bud, slightly surprised at the little hairless hiker who was supposed to be the bear's prey.

The bear was fat; she weighed a ton or more.

It became the tundra, just then, and the now-white-haired bear was minding her own business with the penguins and the seals and all the other shit that thrived in the cold.

"A-HA!" exclaimed Bud, approaching the wary bear, who was having deja-vu in a bear manner. "I suppose you're in charge of things around here, huh? King of the Tundra? Ha, ha, ha."

The bear blinked slowly, peeling apart the scales on a fish she'd caught earlier. Too apathetic to correct Bud ("Queen" of the Tundra, rather than "King," hypothetically).

"Ridiculous bear." Bud set up camp. He'd paid a lot of money to go adventuring on this side of the world, as opposed to all the Drive-thru Safari's and theme parks. He'd paid a lot of money for his expensive parka and camping gear. He was an unofficial explorer and conqueror, doing his country's dirty work and loving it.

But (polar) bears know little of these Yertle-the-Turtle-type advancements. She went along with the fish deliberately with her sharp claws, and wondered why the little man found her so ridiculous.

"I didn't have to buy my fur
to survive here," grumbled the bear,
not making eye-contact.
"I'm here because I'm...here...and you have
stumbled upon me (again).
You probably believe your amazing journeys
are worth so much to man-kind;
but for all I care, you might as well
have gone to the Moon instead
and met some Moon-bears or something."

Bud eyed the bear; her fur would make a nice coat, or a sexy new rug for the little lady.
Bud was always lucky, and always happy, and usually smiling too.

"I killed a beast about your size, you know," said Bud to the bear. "Me and my brothers-in-arms shot and killed a buffalo in the middle of the night. We thought it were the enemy; turned out that in the morning, we found the dead buffalo. It was a female. It was pregnant. Me and my boys split its hide up and ate the insides."

The bear yawned.

"So...ha...do you see? Do you SEE the beast in my eyes???" implored Bud, feeling his most heroic.

The bear took a last bite of fish and dove into the water.
The otters and sea-lions and seals and walri (?) went about their yelping gossip and meals. The penguins padded their organizations through the snow banks.

Days went on. Bud got a fever, froze his ass off, realized he was going to die alone, and went insane.

He begged the bear to eat him.

judy/point: simple.

2009-04-02T13:20:00.004-05:00

"It's getting to the point
where I'm no fun anymore,
I am sorry.

Sometimes it hurts so badly I must cry out loud,
I am lonely."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"They say the sea turns so dark that
You know it's time, you see the sign
They say the point demons guard is
An ocean grave, for all the brave,
Was it you that said, 'How long, how long,
How long to the point of know return?'"

budgies in love

2009-03-26T20:02:00.002-05:00

2009-03-23T15:31:00.003-05:00

i really need this surgery.

it is ridiculous how people are treating me b/c i have "minimal" insurance.

i will not slip through the cracks! i need to be on this earth with as little pain or worry as possible!

while there is no cure for Crohn's, and the only way to maintain it is to get an invasive series of tests, the "ventral hernia" is real, and it needs to be taken out. not because i am a fantastic, thrilling person...not because i am a hypochondriac, or "addicted" to surgery (some people are).

someone is going to take it out of me. i will not wait 6 months b/c i have medicaid.

it's going to happen.

i thought the hard part would be recovering...but i realize that just getting these human-mechanics to value my life is even harder.

and some would say: "there's a lot of people out there who are sicker than you." how astringently smug.

i mean, thanks g-d for holding off on the other diseases for a little while. i respect everyone's individual complaints but this is my body, my issues, my complaints, my need for comfort, support, and attention (medical and non).

my life is not a throwaway.

I AM NOT DISPOSABLE. the physical challenges are enough, and the mental challenges are overwhelming. how could it be that people are getting botox & breast augmentation at this very moment in Philadelphia?

and most of all, i love you because you're crazy

2009-03-21T17:57:00.002-05:00

i love you when you cry,
even though you're in pain
you look so beautiful
and you hardly make a sound

and if you do make a sound
you go off by yourself
gracefully, regemented;
it's like a child.

i love you when you walk
and when you run:
it's a victory!
if only you could see
how perfect
you are
when you travel
alone,
on your own.

i love you when you try
to meditate, or concentrate
and let your breaths
take over;
even if you feel clumsy...
it's just right.
know this, i am with you: don't
give up.

i love your little soft hands

i love your face
(especially when
you have the zits)

i love your lips
particularly when you're putting
balm or rouge on them
and smacking 'em together

i love it that you made it
past your life-expectancy
(21)
and furthermore i love the scar on your belly.

your most meaningful moments:
when you graduated high school
and college
when you got a job that you liked
and excelled in it

and most of all, i love you because you are crazy.

here's why:
the world needs your insight
the world needs your divergence
you have the *moxy* to be yourself
and men see it, and women see it

*and you know right from wrong,
and take your medicine.*

you've always had the guts to be yourself
even if you were miserable or fearful
or just alone and feeling freakish

you've been sick as hell

you're brave as hell

you're smarter than the average weirdo.

you're cute, you're damn pretty enough

you deserve a life less ordinary
b/c your heart, in all of its travels, its trials and disappointments,
is still big

and i would say it was made of gold
if the jokers nearby would be kind enough
to just let you be, rather than melt you down
with their 'clever torches'
and drug this heart
and poison it
again.

no, you're crazy and that's just perfect.

not just because of your legacy
or the way your feet have long toes

but the way you can feel at home in nature
maneuvering with caution and meaning
in the forest

seeing what you see
hearing what you hear

trusting that gut-sewn-shut
(and soon to be sewn-again! you'll have earned it!)

ever respecting the sky and the universe
not quite finding the derisive joke when everyone else in the room is cracking up

innocence growing, reaching for more awareness

slowly a little woman shapes her code, a stele
a law

i am luckier to know you
and your family treasures you

you're crazy
and that's just as it should be.

because crazies love plants
and love to dance
and rhyme
and sing songs to old people for no reason!

it's safe enough
to come out of your shell, maybe you will again
this year

(the shell comes and goes,
in different spirally shapes
but you
always leave
your mark.)

crazy, crazy, crazy:
spinning "Tumbalalaika"
never afraid to ask questions
that may have never been asked before.

it is your madness
that brings you home:
to entertain, to emote,
to astonish yourself
to find that boy who became the man
to do the minuet with you
for all the world to see

and so the romance:
so much more potent
for the divergent girl.

thank you, then
for being yourself.
you'll be welcomed to many new places
and unbelievably real fantasies
*flanked,
by your friends and family
old and new*

your destiny is as it goes
you are ready to be She

and now that you've shucked the poison leaves
overlaid like bandages on a mummy:

hear this....

"the miracle is here!!

the miracle is me!"

The Infatuant

2009-03-19T20:19:00.002-05:00

And though you were only a cellblock away,
I knew I was forbidden to stride long there

So on my knees I mailed my tongue off
to your address,
Though I couldn't lick shut
the envelope or stamp.

Now, it's always night
Since I sold my tongue

For a bunch of fingers
That chatter
Like Teenage Radio

--copyright/ JLR March 19, 2009

turn and face the strange

2009-03-15T20:04:00.006-05:00

these are some changes i've observed here around the depersonalization.

-i feel music physically. more physically. it seems to feel me. it finds me and it moves my temperature & blood

-it screams for me. much easier than screaming inside. too metaphorical. it's true though. i don't have to scream when i put on my headphones on.

-i have vertigo, she has vertigo, we now know what vertigo is from a medical-psi-chi standpoint

-i am going to get through this stronger than ever. that's why i let it happen. "you do it to yourself, just you...and that's why it really hurts."

i'm gone. it's fun to do. i feel the dancing coming back. [read: spirit fingers]

i will never shut the fuck up. who's the perp, she's the perp, he's the perp, there has to be a perp, huh. i don't care what you think anymore.

i get what "doll parts" is now

dear courtney love: thank you for being a sister, a friend, thanks for getting through it so i can too, i wish i was in a band like you.

the music is NOT LOUD ENOUGH. IT'S NOT LOUD ENOUGH. I WANT IT LOUDER.

the woman makes demands but not little-girl demands. woman demands are serious. even though child demands seem like life-or-death at the time.

i have an axe. a real ax, that is. not a euphemism for a guitar. it is used to chop wood.

it's an implement, this ax. i want to put it in the car and drive around town through the darkness that is putrid and sodden with my assailant's piss but no.

axe handles. william carlos williams? or was that the red wagon with the chickens? "so much depends on...."

this is who my enemy is: Afterwar.d.: after the battle is over and the dead are in shreads and the bloody bodies are immobilized and crying for their mothers and screaming if they are able to scream, and feeling so cold......i'm one of them... and i'm so terrified that i don't even know whether i'm living or dead. that's when the voice of the enemy wafts so, so close, like a private smell from childhood, and enters without hesitation, intoxicates me and whispers, "I hate you."

my dreams are on fire and you will see me on TV and bleeding upon the red carpet...almost life-like.

thanks especially for the glibness; glib is such a descriptive word, only 4 letters long. "stop that psycho blogger! stop her right...now!"

laxatives, please.

jamie-jam gets through this b/c she's been thru worse. just ask her childhood friends. (they were never ashamed of me, even when i was ashamed of myself.)

good news: i think the welbutrin is making me quit smoking!

and the music says,
"i'd like to change the world...
but i don't know what to do..
so i'll leave it up to you." --10 years after

The Friends That Were My Lies

2009-03-15T17:41:00.006-05:00

{VARIOUS LYRIC QUOTATIONS FROM THE "BELLE & SEBASTIAN" BAND PERTAINING TO AND SOOTHING TO BLOG WRITER JAMIE, who hopes she annotated these passably}

"Call me a prophet if you like, It's no secret. You know the world is made for men. You know the world is made for men. You know the world is made for men, Not us." -- from, "We Rule the School," album: Tigermilk (1996)

"It's someone else's turn to go through Hell/Now you can see them come from twenty yards/Yeah you can tell/It's someone else's turn to take a fall/And now you are the one who's strong enough to help them/The one who's strong enough to help them/The one who's strong enough to help them all" --from, "Mary Jo," Tigermilk (1996)

"Hand in hand with the electronic renaissance is the way to go yeah" --from, "Electric Renaissance," Tigermilk (1996)

"'Something's gone wrong,' said the spider to the fly" --from, "Chickfactor," album: The Boy With The Arab Strap (1998*)

"You made me forget my dreams" --from, "You Made Me Forget My Dreams," album: Push Barman to Open Old Wounds (2005)

"They let Lisa go blind, The world was at her feet and she was looking down. They let Lisa go blind, But everyone she knew thought she was beautiful, Only slightly mental. Beautiful, a bit temperamental. Beautiful, only slightly mental...Beautiful."
--from, "Beautiful," album: "Push Barman to Open Old Wounds (2005)

"Wouldn't you like to get away? Kerouac's beckoning with open arms, And open roads of eucalyptus/Westward bound." --from, "La Pastie de la Bourgeoisie": Push Barman (2005)

because you care

2009-03-05T22:05:00.003-05:00

"...I'm cut at the root like a weed/Cause there's no one to hear my small story/Just like a woman who walks in the street/I will pay for my life with my body/What price to pay/For bad wisdom?" --suzanne vega

Barbara Kruger Says it Best

2009-03-04T00:15:00.000-05:00

help was nearby

2009-03-03T23:57:00.003-05:00

i hope that the state i'm in isn't as cute as you think it is.

here i am after a post saying, and i paraphrase: 'all bipolars should be given another chance.' well sure. cool. but there are laws, and just b/c you are sick doesn't mean you're allowed to break them.

it happened during the snowstorm.

my next post will be victorious. or at least not full of such moribund abjection, haha.

i've changed my stance on bipolar affective disorder. every man (or woman) for him(her)self.

The War for Bipolar Disorder

2009-02-27T12:38:00.000-05:00

Bipolar disorder. They say only the greats have it. The most talented souls were always the most tortured. Or were they?

Bipolar disorder always directs me to poor old Vincent van Gogh. One of my favourite painters, and a deeply troubled guy. Luckily, he had a brother who never gave up on him and knew when to ask for help.

We were not always this lucky. Even the great Sylvia Plath, under the Bell Jar, had no idea how to ask for help. Do I blame Ted Hughes? Do I blame God? What a terrible tragedy. At least she knew what she was doing...and she was so beautiful.

Bipolars (or Manic Depressives, as the rock 'n roll world knows us) weren't always allowed to express themselves as I am now. While Edgar Allen Poe's words will make me laugh and cry, and move me, and inspire me, I can also gain insight into how the man was tortured, alone, broken-hearted, and beaten down by life.

Bipolars are generally not huggy, kissy people. The ones I've dated take some extreme getting used to. They are not romantics and prefer to give gifts, as opposed to receiving them. Bipolars are always looking to improve their code of ethics, and build upon their bright ideas (without going overboard).

Bipolars dive into religious systems whole-heartedly and are often shifting their beliefs, as they are sometimes disappointed by the dominant ideologies of their time.

Bipolars can (and do) get married. They generally know if they are gay or straight early on in life, but admire the opposite (or same) sex just the same. I would like to believe Bipolar disorder lends itself to great beauty and deep-rooted trust.

Our detractors are many. Why?

1. The catholic church was once very cruel to anyone who acted "funny" or laughed or cried when they weren't supposed to.

2. Jesus wasn't really supposed to come back. Most of the stories that Jesus Freaks tell are so beautiful...but c'mon, who really wants miracles in this day and age? If you saw Jesus walking down the road, would you look the other way? Or would you give him a ride to the 7-11 and buy him a Slurpee?

3. Muslims. I'm not touching Islam with an 11-foot pole. So there.

4. Communists are cool but weren't always friends with the freaks who chose to express their emotions. I would rather hang out with the red-stars than not, but once upon a time, Communists were violent and cruel.

The big problem is mental health care in this country. Instead of empowering us to work together to improve in-patient treatment facilities, we're always at war with one another. There's a pecking order from the beginning of time that invites chaos to our table.

Mental health care is desperately in need of a culture. Whether it be a creativity culture, academics, gaming (on-and-offline), athletics...let's support one another! Let's cheer for our chess champions! Let's paint pretty pictures together! Let's play Operation or UNO until we fall asleep!

Mainly, let's protect each other. There are a lot of creeps out there who feast on the brains of our brothers and sisters...who steal from us and lie to us b/c they want to see us afraid, and paralyzed.

Not every person with a mental disorder belongs on Main Street USA. Some of us cry too much, some of us laugh too much. And then there are those who choose the sickness over anything else. They fight their own renegade-zombie wars and they *don't* know how to ask for help.

Let's teach them that they're not a waste of flesh. Let's let them know that just because they were abused, or they have addiction issues that are catalysts for abuse. Let's tell them how not to abuse their peers, let's give them another chance. Let's give THEM hope, too.

There are some people who cannot be rehabilitated by biofeedback, chair-massages, make-overs, candy bars, sex, cosmopolitans, nor all the riches in the world. And they suicide. Regardless of who we are, the Suicides were the individual's decision. We will not be tortured by suicide. We will not be held hostage b/c of someone else's hair-trigger. We will honor our dead, regardless of race or ethnicity.

Suicide= the perceived lack of love, hope, or the right to a home.

Do not mistake suicidal tendencies for someone thinking, "Ha. I will be dead, and they will all be sorry." It is more than a cry for help. It is the detection of immediate, urgent need for something the person doesn't have. It could be heat, electricity, food, water, friends, a loved one who has passed, or simply even one's misplaced medication.

Some people don't think they should share their country with me. I say I deserve a life. Because I am a friend to those in need...and those in need should stick together.

Can you hear me, Major Tom?

2009-02-09T15:38:00.003-05:00

i guess that's the ok. the all-clear. time to leave while i still can. time to bleed it into the bag for someone else-- oh wait, i forgot, they don't want my blood here, in philadelphia. no bloodmobile following THIS patient around, now is there? what, they don't want my eyeballs? everything else is incendiary matter. if they fail. if they don't take the Big One out. so why don't i just stop this forever, stop complaining because god helps those who help themselves, and if you cannot help yourself, you might as well not take up any space here anymore on this blue planet.

goodbye.

It's Just That Simple.

2009-02-08T01:45:00.003-05:00

Find Out the Truth About Jamie's Health.

choose 1 (one) of the following:

A. Jamie has tuberculosis and is going to *die* if you don't make a contribution of at least 500 megabucks to your local TB foundation!

B. Jamie has an ovarian cyst.

C. Jamie's cyst has a name, address and phone number.

D. Jamie is a little paranoid and needs some Risperidal.

E. Jamie has officially Busted A Gut, and yes, it hurts.

F. Jamie would rather party like it's 1999 than catch perverts, but it's a living.

and finally,

G. All of the above.

*Winners see their names up in lights*

for those of us who on the mend

2009-02-02T12:58:00.004-05:00

--->!!!!EXTRA EXTRA!!!! STALK OR BE STALKED!!!! <---

that's right! fixate yourself on someone you Like and start "thinking about them and touching yourself." (--Divinyls)

peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeace and red cross blood drivesssssssssssssssssssssssss

Must I Repeat Myself?

2009-02-02T12:05:00.000-05:00

Must I repeat myself?

Primer

2009-01-20T16:37:00.003-05:00

in the toilet, in the sink
in the tummy and in the Pink.

up your nose and up the junction,
down the basement with no good function.

be extra careful when you poke smot:
word is that pleasure gets them hot.

be really wise when you turn 30
cuz the word it out that stalkers are dirty.

they'll lock you up and throw away the key;
[some stalkers wear leather and PVC.]

they want your body and disengage
they suck your fluids, so turn the page.

they'll slip you a roofie and kill yer ma
they colonize crackwhores and open a spa.

they're straight and they're gay and they boast cheap thrills
[but none of them ever resemble mike mills.]

if you go to the city you might see 'em there,
with a samurai sword and a love for despair.

but if you're in country (not unlike me)
i slay one everythyme i sip juice, and pee.

---JLR ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, BITCH

instructional videos

2009-01-16T22:43:00.004-05:00

not that i've ever been to scotland.

i've promised myself that i'd write a book. i promised myself that i'd write 2 books. i want to go back to cali at least once more before i die. and death is so close i can smell it burning, taste the tiny bones slice into my gums from the sardine, touch it with all these blazing cuts on my fingers, feel it on my cold, gummy tar-skin.

new paragraph.

if you're out there, you know me the best. you know how tempermental i am, and why i am writing about "i" all the time. i am a brain inside a cup, and right now i am taking over this girl's body a la Carrie meets Firestarter. stand back. WAY back. stop banging on the walls. i am a beast. and i will do whatever i can to stay alive.

my dreams were always full of airplane events. yay me. what good did i do anybody by dreaming about something before it happened. and i didn't even dream about the same crash, it was the one in africa or something. i'm sure i'm not the first person and i'm almost certain i'll definitely not be the last person either. i just want to live and teach and learn and dance on my skinny legs. and a whole bunch of other things.

i have a parrot, as you may know. her name is steevie and she's chirping at me right now from downstairs. stop banging on the walls.

"we weren't banging on the walls," he replied. "we were dancing."

oh, ok. well, if i can hear your vioce in my head, what's the use of speaking? what's the use of using my voice for anything, other than an audition, or singing a song using perfect pitch, or harmonizing (as in NOTA! hello? reunion??? instruments??? tour???? fun, fun fun.)

melodrama. there's always going to be that bitch out there who made sure you never made it into any of the drama club photographs in the yearbook.

"with your bright silver frown...you own the town...and i think i need a little poison."

i'm glad i won't be forgotten.

New Years

2009-01-06T21:36:00.005-05:00

What I Learned About Life During My New Years' Celebration:

--"AIDS" is now humorous....? Uh...kids?
--I don't drink. I shouldn't drink. I guess I really shouldn't. Except for champagne.
--I don't even want to talk about pot with you. I'll listen, but I have nothing to say.
--My ex hurt me pretty badly.
--Adam and Connie are awesome. They listened when nobody else would.
--My mom apparently has a 'thing' for Nick Cave, too. Hm.
--Kittens are not evil. Not all of them, anyway.
--I MUST, MUST, MUST cut back on cigarettes before something bad happens!

flag

2009-01-01T22:39:00.003-05:00

i'm being described as, "...cranky. Ever since you got back from your vacation."

i picked a bad day to quit free-basing.

no, seriously. i was thinking about cutting back on smoking cigarettes for the new year. it's not impossible but it's easier to smoke here than it is to not.

what's more important? a car or a home? how about a winnebago?? it would be for me and my friends.

sorry the sarcasm. (only half-sarcasm this time). my blood is boiling and it takes all the energy i have to be polite. i've researched gratitude up and down and will do it once again. i've marched around the neighborhood in this weather (below 30) and am still not chilled out in the least.

it would be easier, maybe, if i put on an apron and a head-cloth and had everybody call me "Weezy."

still easier, running from the law at 70 mph across state lines, looking for somebody who needs me around.

i'm so sorry i let you down. if you thought i'd be so great by now. at least i didn't go the ted kozinsky route. he went to harvard.

i know everybody else is busy trying to untangle their own lives, but please. i need a little bit of hope. i need to know i will be cared for if i were to go missing. or sick. or booted off the island. i work hard everyday, just to get out of the house.

i am sorry i am empty, and have nothing left to give right now.

hello barium!

2008-12-23T23:53:00.002-05:00

just chugged my 8oz for tonight, going to slurp down the rest tomorrow before i get to the hospital, so my insides will glow, and my pretty new gastroenterologist can see them.

i am cold and furious. i have a headache and feel the grossness of that contrast in my stomach. think about it moving through the rebus of my man-made insides.

listening to "The Knife." yeah.

i believe there is a way out of here without pain, without involuntary hospitalization, without any further bloodshed.

always having to escape. it's nobody's fault but my own.

creating a scrapbook for my grandmother. she is 97 and i will get to see her this weekend, for the first time in like, 8 years.

now i'm listening to the Magnetic Fields, one of my favs. "Abigail, Belle of Kilronin." one of the most beautiful love songs i've ever heard.

gotta run.

out, out, out

2008-12-18T22:17:00.002-05:00

i'm in the teeth of the beast. that's different from the belly.

the teeth are sharp. they are formidable-looking. strong jawed beast, like an alligator with red ruby eyes...the special alligator they save for people like me. i just never saw his face this closeup. i'm just used to that familiar damp darkness inside the belly, and navigating among the intestines until i made it home again.

HOME IS NOT HERE. i need to leave. i need to ask for help. i need to survive.

i'm listening to "Rasputin" by Boney M. gotta love that story.

leave me alone. don't push me. for i'm a beast too.

The Ballad of Robot Boy and Me

2008-12-13T20:03:00.003-05:00

you're going to have to pay for this one.

Purgatory Lake and Purgatory Lake Redux (for Becca)

2008-12-08T15:17:00.004-05:00

Purgatory Lake

(for the residents of the Carpenter's House, Summer 2001, Glassboro, NJ)

We all live at Purgatory Lake
Where the loudspeaker crackles
And scrapes at our dreams

If by some chance
the muddied waters should rise
Would they wash away the corrosion
in our eyes?

No one pities the receding shores
No one cares to cross the infected borders

In plastic beds we flounder
and thrash in netted sheets,
a lost swell of sleep-warmed breath beside us

Today I heard the radio and pretended
I was on my way to the sea

Keep your head down, for goodness sake!
Don't forget you live
at Purgatory Lake.

JLR 2001

-------------------------------------------------------

sometimes i go back there, in my mind. i remember the enormous carp we tried to catch, but just wound up feeding, wonder if he's still there. i wonder about the children who grew, who left a great chunk of their childhood there. i wonder about Miss Dot and Miss Corbett and Mr Terry and that time i started running, and they told me to stop. i think about the church ladies, who were so good to me, and always let me sit in if i wanted to. i think about my september 11, in the middle of group therapy...you know there's something on when the therapists look scared.

luckily...thankfully, i was medicated. heavily medicated.

sometimes i go back there when a relationship fails, when i see that i've gained a lot of weight again...but all i have to do is think of my suggestion for a Housewarming Gift for Shonda (a dildo).
i feel sad when i remember that day with Cheryl and Dawn, but i'm hopeful when i think of the last time i saw Cheryl at the Shopping Center, and we gave each other a hug.

certain songs...like "Bohemian Rhapsody," make me think of Lisa T. or, "Minute Man," makes me think of Candy. cleaning the bathroom always reminds me of Charlotte. and of course, no big boobie joke was better than Rodney's: "You look like you're smuggling a couple of Mexicans under that shirt!"

Tina's baby was the worst-smelling baby of all, but boy, wasn't he cute? would anybody remember "SUUUPER DUMPER?" besides me and her?

wake up! ladies, it's time to get out of bed!

who could ever, ever forget the wolf spider near the foot of my bed? Candy was compelled to turn on the light for some reason, and BAM, there it was...the fattest, hairiest spider i've ever seen (outside of a pet store). it was a good thing we de-spidered the back.

jen! jennifer!! WAKE UP! OUT OF BED! i don't care if you don't want to go to group today! if anything, there are hot guys there with drugs...jen, i don't care what you did in the past, you know i loved you the best i could....oh, jen..

and jeremy? at the Hotel? how could i ever forget you?? you pop up all the time, silly boy.

nikki, you have 3 kids now. i remember when you turned the heat up to 90 degrees in my apartment. i remember your pretty eyes. i try to remember the good stuff about you.

hold my hand, don't let go. don't act like you don't matter. the dope fiends, the crack cleaning, the alcohol breath, the cigar burn on her beautiful face....the food...ugh...the food....trips to the laundrymat, waiting an hour outside acme for brenda and Ro to come back...the drawings i did, the holiest of holy 4th of July. every little thing. every little thing.

more to come.

missing NAMI

2008-12-02T17:48:00.002-05:00

in 15 minutes, every tuesday for 9 weeks, i would be on my way to my NAMI meeting.

it's over now, done. i have a certificate that says so.

chances are, if i can get to the next group-thing, i will. but something tells me i have to, am inclined to, am responsible to do more for my community.

i keep strange hours. i like the night-life, baby. can't wait to find something good to do.

ty steve, walt and jennifer!

32 Again

2008-11-30T02:42:00.002-05:00

ok, i lied. i like drama. i mean, i must like drama, since i create so much of it.

it's not an emergency. more of a "Spiritual Emergency." my face is not falling off, i am not on fire, i do not have leeches or smell like rot. i am lucky to have a home, but luckier to be able to appreciate it.

the chaos, then, is not a reflection of my mind. what's outside is outside.

then again, what you want to be close, what you would long for, seems so far away sometimes.

distance changes things.

"...you know that we are living in a Lithium-Ion world,
and I am a Lithium girl."

there's no point in hating yourself; chances are someone already hates you creatively and exhaustively enough to balance out the compass.

can you see me?

"i don't wanna marry you"

2008-11-26T02:51:00.003-05:00

the big pink balloon that lived inside my chest is now completely deflated.

that is to say, the whoopie cushion that nests below my sternum and between my chest has been farted to its extreme flatness.

i don't like drama, especially in my own life. but it is an emergency that i get out of here. i tried hard, but it looks as though i can't live or thrive here. nobody's fault but mine, i'm told.

to all of his myspace spies: your job is done. don't take an interest in me or my life any longer, please.

to him: it's just a crying, crying shame.

2008-11-21T03:59:00.003-05:00

atom
where's that thrump in your heart?

adam, if i ever knew a timeless wellspring of love
it is your beautiful bride as the wedding began

the face of woman-child
stepping down from an ages-old
pyre

that's what i would think was holy. if anyone were to ask.

i've been lucky enough to attend 5 weddings in the past 2 years; greater than i've ever been to in my entire life.

2 were in california. cool, huh?

there are certain things i remember about each one: the cake...the house...the guests besides the ones i already knew...family members in town from different parts of the universe...

anyway, i dunno why i'm thinking about weddings. probably cuz someone close is getting married sooner or later. marriage works for a lot of people. i'm sorry if i ever dissed anyone for doing that whole song & dance. and the last-name? who cares. i am a woman of the people. i embrace people's families joining together. duh.

just don't be surprised if i don't give you anything good; no, couldn't scrape it together to get the Tiffany & Co. soup tureen on the registry. if anything, i will bring a smallish can of bunny turds, and some Toast-Chee crackers while writhing hysterically in a bra-less Mod Squad number.

don't be shocked if i beat my chest indiscriminately at your wedding; especially if it's a classy affair.

i'm a sucker for the whole bar arrangement at most weddings. as i understand it, everyone basically drinks as much as possible, for free. i'm so down. no wonder people crash these affairs! clos du bois!!!

as for drugs, i will be heavily medicated, equipped with a cotton drool-bib, or a reasonable facsimilie. this stuff is the boooomb. did i ever have a personality? will i ever have one again? YOU decide! yes, you. meanwhile, hands off.

i hope the boy i have a crush on reads my blogs.

i don't think i want to meet gandhi...if anything, i'm pretty clumsy.

let me build a bridge

2008-11-15T19:19:00.002-05:00

"tierra del fuego"
shifting;
i wonder how
to send the rain
to that land.

i know i'd have to
blow it forward
around the world,
maybe picking up speed
over the ocean
gathering winds

i stumble
over earthquaked land
i would like
to collect their tears
in the gathering winds
to put out the
tierra del fuego

but i can't move
much further than an inch
prison in the middle of the jungle
which children are mine?
"where are my children?"

and do they know it's a holiday
will they know it's xmas-time

are these my bones?
where is my leg?
what happened to my reflection
in the lake
leading to the rivers
of bones
up the coast
to the oceans
leaking down my face
to the tierra del fuego

beyond the tierra del fuego
a band plays sad, romantic songs
crosses a bridge
over a what used to be a river
and is now clay

"where are our mothers?"
"where are our brothers?"
our fathers and children
swallowed in the big volcano
past the fire in the air
where the fire is tucked now
into the land
into gold

rings through my ears
who gave you that gold?
child, who gave you
that gold?

they spoke of cities of gold
on the TV
on the crisp pages
of histories provided

but i've forgotten the metals
that jingle in my pocket
that i've pushed through
cartiledges

instead, the taste of smoke
lives in my head
forever
it's burned!
it's all been burnt to the ground!

napalm and palm trees
cypress, up like roman candles
i would run to swallow the flames
i would dump
pristine snows

i would wring
your tear-soaked garments
in the delta

oh, if i only could.

The Rash

2008-11-07T14:18:00.003-05:00

worse than loneliness is being misunderstood, mislead, and lied to. even worse is the feeling that you somehow brought this on yourself.

i am going to be 32 in a matter of weeks, on turkey day. every so often, it falls on that day. i find it intimidating...a mental picture of myself being carved into and served as part of the feast. which further leads me to "Hotel California," where they "stab [me] with their steely knives but they just can't kill the beast." haha. good comic book material. even better; the persecution complex.

anyway, where was i going? i guess that i always knew (but was seldom warned) that my path wouldn't be an easy one. i feel like the girls from my class on facebook that got married earned another last name like a merit badge. granted it's just part of a system which never accepted me anyway. i was afraid of being left out in the cold. i still am. and not because of lack of love...or lack of intelligence....or sensitivity, or any of that. i just wanted...SHELTER.

reminding me of "Stranger Song" by L. Cohen:

"It's true that all the men you knew were dealers
that said they were through with dealing
everytime you gave them shelter..."

so. i look forward to being me some more, making my own decisions, choosing the right path for myself and not having to drag around an ounce of extra weight.

sorry.

life's got its betrayals for all of us. i want to be crystal clear in my intent to be fair, compassionate, and not to betray myself, first of all.

i feel i am one step closer to love. love is a way to live, not a means to perceived merit badge. love is the main ingredient in my punkin' pie. happy thanksgiving.

alcatraz

2008-11-05T15:00:00.003-05:00

sorrow brings me nearer
to you

but what about the happy times?
do we not deserve these to share too?

bits of broken glass:
sharp
renegade
explosion
revolution
wedding
accident
release

release.

job

2008-11-04T01:16:00.002-05:00

if i could have a job, it would be:

a. an artist. a working artist who gets to be inspired and be with other artists.

b. a writer, see above.

c. something...someone...who helps...somehow. kind of like the relationship i had with tony. when i lived in NJ, without many friends, he brought me treasures from the dumpster, and i listened to him talk all day long about his life, the craziness and coolness and ugliness and...the secrets. he felt safe telling me his secrets for some reason. he would do insane things like eat blackberries from a tree and get carted off to the hospital for bowel distress. he brought me all kinds of xmas things, b/c he loved xmas more than anything. he brought me a painted elephant (he painted it himself) and jewelery and oatmeal and weed. and then i moved back home with my mother in PA, and she wasn't too keen on me talking to some old weirdo on the phone. i finally escaped by train to CA with theo on Election Day...and days later i found out tony died.

so the point is, i want to be someone's friend till the end. well, i sometimes want to be everyone's friend, but i know i can't. i want to believe i can help and heal.

tony was that guy who did maintenance and cleaning at the mall; he was the cleaner at Chuck-E-Cheese...he was a lunatic and a drug dealer and a fearless truck stop worker during the gas crunch in the seventies. he couldn't read but taught me how to see things without words better than any professor. he did hazardous jobs before OSHA was on the scene.

he saw me when i was crazy. several people did. but he never judged me.

so...should i head for the nearest nunnery?

dead people don't write blogs

2008-11-01T02:27:00.003-05:00

i guess i'm finally ready to post a blog, something from my own head.

i bought a necklace today (ty uncle dave & aunt j.). it's a real scorpion in glass. i felt pretty badass wearing it. i would totally wear it to a wedding. teeheee! no, seriously. it's that dramatic. little black/navy dress material.

exhausted. did some halloweening at local bar, some sexy chick costumes. i got a glow-in-the dark bracelet from wal-mart for a dollar. it was like the "children's miracle network" or some shit.

how long?
o how long till i leave the planet
on a pinkish rocketship
to the stars?

i can hear you
when i breathe
i can hear you
when i cbreathe

breathe,
whom do you hear?

maybe it's your ma
maybe it's the tv
maybe just the wonderful wind
sailing thru your lungs!

maybe you've made yourself ill
when you need strength

(i will breathe for you)

thank you

2008-10-21T23:45:00.001-05:00

"let your love cover me,
like a pair of angel wings.
you are my family,
you are my family."

--dar williams

uncomfortably numb

2008-08-30T03:20:00.002-05:00

wow, i thought that last post was sure to bring some comments. like, "awwww! puppy!" or, "that is the same exact kind of parrot that you have, jamie!"

well, like green day would say, "i blog alone."

just don't believe what they tend to say about me. that's all i wanted to impart this time. my bf is the most popular guy on the east coast and i'm fading away.

!

2008-08-20T01:10:00.000-05:00

what is war

2008-08-19T14:13:00.003-05:00

oh man, this is going to be a tough one.

war is something we live with every day in Philadelphia. Ironically.

war is one homeless lady stabbing another in LOVE park.

war is gas going up, rent going up, forcing the nuclear family to shift its borders.

war is a mental illness. it's a personal war for stability and an external struggle for acceptance, acknowledgement, survival, and balance on mysterious medications that we only really know by word of mouth.

war is fear. fear of going outside to get the mail. fear of opening one's mouth, fear of raising one's hand to be counted.

war breeds heroes. heroes come in all shapes and sizes. all different uniforms.

war is being under the influence, way too much.

war is silent and loud.

war is closer than you think, sometimes.

war can be romanticized, but is never ever romantic.

war is in my blood. my father is a vietnam veteran. i miss him.

war is the holocaust. can anybody honestly say that it didn't happen??

war is a book in the bookstore where i used to work. war is several books.

war is the opposite of "peace."

hungry in america

2008-08-17T17:03:00.003-05:00

i'm hungry. was totally spoiled with pizza and 2 whopper juniors yesterday, and now i expect him to wrangle us up some dinner. i'm too much.

i'm trying to feed myself with other things like cigarettes and information and music.

not sure about the gas situation today.

"i would like to own your photograph. the angels cry to have your photograph."

is it possible for someone to trigger an unraveling in someone else's mind? what if that unraveling turned into a blessing after years and years of discomfort and bellyaching and stuff? would she recognize me? if she were a knight, which chess piece was i that day, on the other side of the board?

i guess if i could choose, i'd have been a bishop. they're always fun to use and there's often another one to pick up where you left off.

i don't believe i'm so hungry anymore.

our love was always so incestuous. holding hands was like, way too much.

do you need me, old friend? are you counting on me to give you my blessings? i already have. i know you will feed us on that day.

Thank You for Reading My Blog, Would You Shake My Hand?

2008-08-14T23:17:00.003-05:00

i wish i could get paid to be a psychiatric test-subject. not drugs or clinical trials...just writin and crying sometimes and being way too fucking honest.

how would it be the best: to love, or demonstrate a welcoming disposition?

love, or politik?

(cousin ron, i love you, and vicky and david.)

i am at my wits end. we are on our last box of pasta again, with several packets of ramen noodles and a creature inside me crying, "OUT!"

it took the obvious homosexual route a step further: it were as if there were a woman inside me, being trapped inside, and my flesh is the "closet" i need to come out of. some sort of pupa or something.

i will cry for every last one of you. i will take you all home. it's going to suck a lot, but you know i know what to do....and that i love you.

meanwhile, i WANT eric bogosian.

sensitive-artist-type problems on drugs

2008-08-08T21:11:00.003-05:00

i painted a painting yesterday, what the fuck. where did the inspiration for that come from? like, the shape looks like a (face/penis/body/tree)! hm, the colour choices are interesting.

no instead it is invisible. less concerning than a photo album. "who are all these people? do they matter to me?"

fuck. shit. art for art's sake, art for artist's sake. why not burn it.

nobody has time for artist, off-the-wall speculation. whose eyes. whose eyes can see me in there, in that second version of "wave" started off as a pretty solid creation, for someone who hasn't painted in over 6 months.

what a luxury. muses, come quickly.

this is a robbery

2008-08-06T18:08:00.002-05:00

things that are making me bitter right now:

1. facebook. it's bittersweet, really...but mostly bitter. the white upper-middle-class upbringing produced a crop of yuppie parents, who seem to be breeding urgently and furiously as they scatter themselves and the air that they breathe about the united states.

i'm glad they find joy in their own reflections and their miniature flesh-and-blood stanchions of innocence.

of course i can't tell any of them about the devastation. i can't even write about it, because it's a huge joke. i'm talking about MY devastation, that makes me the paranoid space-cadet i am today. my personal devastation, which i am desperately trying to learn from and become more compassionate because of, hopefully.

it might lead me on the fringe again, the fringe that passerby's don't see, won't see, pretend not to see. just tell me to get a job, i dare you.

so yeah, facebook...i guess i'll always be pushing the boundaries of my own morbid curiosity. paint me a picture of your fantastic, wealthy and genetically superior lives. and then, paint me more. and more, until you're fucking exhausted.

(on the plus side, i do have some real friends on there, thank heaven for them...)

2. trying to quit smoking yesterday and suffering awful withdrawal symptoms (worse than before, i swear) after only like, 20 hours clean. how the hell do you DO this??? i'm drooling as i type! (and yes, i've smoked since then. in case you were concerned.)

i think what gets me are people who can bum cigarettes when they drink or when they're around smokers, but don't crave the nicotine when they're alone. it really is an addiction and it makes me sick, and even sicker to know that some rich guy is taking the last dollar from my pocket. why am i PAYING for it? is that just the kicker or what??

3. bitterness itself makes me bitter. sugary-ness makes me bitter, too. i wish i could control my emotions perfectly.

emotional diabetes?

4. i wish i could--and WOULD-- paint. the only thing holding me back is the physicality of opening up my supply box.

the dead don't paint; only the living. i have 2 hands enough, i have arms enough. i even have room (for a couple of weeks). still i feel a little nauseated at the prospect of painting alone, and people seeing me paint and wondering what is wrong with me, and thanking themselves for being normal.

kiss the gravel

2008-08-05T00:49:00.002-05:00

how come some people
get to sleep
through the poverty?

i touch, see, smell, taste
the textures of

non-faith
un-hope
self-pity

pretty soon
i am flagged as a toxin
to somebody else's way of life

in the way.

i went to a viewing today,
he was a delightful artist.
he had a long run.

his creations surrounded us; drawings, paintings, amazing wood work and even furniture.

i thought of each hour that went into the intricate wood joinery, what inspired some of the abstract drawings and paintings. i was thrilled by the photographs lining the room, surrounding the mourners as we made the circuit.

it made me want to stay awake a little longer, i guess. ride out the night (as always) until dawn. speculate what i would like to leave behind, and then precisely how much time i might need to complete these objectives.

minutes, minutes, munching away at life. men seem to understand time better than women. well, that's not true. but men have seriously huge watches sometimes. i have a men's watch now. it's part of my proto-renegade-sociopath rebellion, in addition to my big, gross ear-gauges. you wouldn't believe how many people are grossed out by them. i don't get what the big deal is?

oh well. what's me is me. but i can't stand the "me"-ness of it all! it's like, my ego is soooo clinging to my skin like a nylon stocking...and pretty soon i'm disguised, a stocking on my head, robber-style. what a horrible feeling. breathing through the stinky old screen; constricted by what i've constructed.

this is serious. this is also ongoing.

back to soap scum and water stains. none of which are mine. well, some. and dishes too.

i will be going back to the bathroom pretty soon. i would like to be buried with several rolls of toilet paper.

how does earth become consecrated? what i mean is, how can we account for "sacred" versus "non-sacred?"

the strong silent type

2008-07-31T23:43:00.004-05:00

i've got this huge, aching burning spot, right inside of me, just under the boobies, kind of nowhere near the solar plexus.

i am scared because i've made the journey this far before, and i felt like it was all deja vu except that i am just a tool right now, a total tool.

breathing is cool.

[submerged for how long?]

yes, your honor. i will agree to life in your submarine. (could it be the yellow one?)

not this time, i'm afraid. you gambled your life away. again.

something about honor. your honor.

land in rain

2008-07-31T00:50:00.003-05:00

what i thought i was supposed to do was
come home
and get caught in some butterfly net
so i did.

home though is nothing more than
a certain arrangement of chemicals,
certainly not an individual or individuals
not a structure

more of a stricture,
points of no return established
crawling with seams
that don't rip but more splinter

my best friend
dances on the inside of Sleeping Sickness
this time;
i can't bear another hour.

plenty deep i've dug myself...

get rid of me

2008-07-31T00:09:00.002-05:00

blogging may be the route of all evil (according to patton oswalt) but i'll do it anyway. not taking up much space, not hurting anyone (intentionally).

depressed as hell. watching "the piano" on tv, the ultimate killer chick flick. want something to cry about other than me. every day brings on the possibility of going back to square one, fighting again, having to re-direct my placement in this world. it sucks.

i hope my gratitude comes across as sincere, as i believe it is. i can't find comfort tonight at all.

inspiration and hope seem far away. i look down and see my arms out in front of me. i look through the veneer of my eyes and see lots of little shit floating around. i feel like i might explode from guilt or fear or just heat inside that doesn't want to leave.

we don't dance

2008-07-27T13:09:00.003-05:00

somebody bought us a thunderstorm today
a nice, lazy one at 2 in the afternoon on sunday

everyone else's lives sure look good.

i can't wait to dance at somebody else's wedding
because we
sure don't dance
and
dancing with myself is a-ok

sky roars
rain pours

i don't even mind the Great Mystery, now!
i just want to know where i belong,
what i can do, how to navigate
why i'm not dead and what i can do about it.

(which is all wrong, but oh well)

i'm wasting time

my mind's in knots

i've been eating croutons for the past 3 days

omitted and be-shitted

2008-07-26T17:49:00.002-05:00

i'm a trove of telescopic fury
which rhymes with allegory
but isn't.

i break still
on every bough
i've been falling since i can't remember.

what's safe

is maybe a special pen in my bag
and my hands have the memory

hearing his phone go, *ding*

being slightly fluid
like sap
down the side of an old tree

i won't give up

unwitting soldier in the war without a name

too hot for myspace

2008-07-25T09:17:00.002-05:00

what happens when speaking becomes the only way out?

writing gets scarier, for one thing..

some milky weirdness in my eye,
left over from a star

i couldn't sleep at all last night.

...and a future?

2008-01-27T01:00:00.000-05:00

there are some days when i feel like i'm just on a different trail than the people i see around me. i can't seem to fathom the simple pleasures, the variations, the ability to use my speaking-voice, the ability to know what's going on and why.

today is one of those days, when i feel so in the dark. i hope i am treating this feeling properly and not exploiting anything. i don't think i am...exploiting, that is. i'm just trying to unravel it by typing, sometimes it helps.

"i am a scientist, i seek to understand me..."

it's lonely. i'm not going to panic.

i feel like my friends are avoiding me, for whatever reason. not always sure i have friends, although that's one of those "nonsense" things where i know i do, somewhere and i'm the one who has to give back, and not fuck it up.

i hope i am doing "science" a great big favor by extending out my loneliness, by stretching it out to examine exactly why i'm not a good fit in the society that surrounds me. i'm overwhelmed by jealousy sometimes. i try to focus on "talent" but it only gets you so far in a world made of steel vultures.

i know shame will get me nowhere. i know that i need to come down from this tower pretty soon. my footholds have to be just right. i fall so fast sometimes. i hope it matters, or will matter someday.

Biggus Dickus

2008-01-25T04:28:00.001-05:00

...i'm not really going to write a blog about big dicks. just thought it would be funny to call it "Biggus Dickus."

i have a sore in my mouth, under my tongue. can't sleep, bored beyond any sensible means. i can usually find something to do in this state but (and by no means does typing this shit count) i'm coming up dry.

haven't been home for several days, forgot how to function here around other sick people. (if you spend enough time with non-sick people, and you are sick, do you feel better? if a=b and b=c....)

terribly thirsty.

It Makes You Sick

2008-01-22T00:37:00.000-05:00

Welcome to another family-friendly episode of:

"It Makes You Sick."

[still accepting theme music submissions]

It Makes You Sick.

"Anger."

"anger."

"It Makes You Sick."

("i'm a rageoholic! i'm addicted to ragehol!!")

What else makes you sick?

"Bitterness."

"...bittnerness?"

"and other sick, bitter people. pfft."

I'm on the mend. It's the best you can do these days, even as a celebrity or a political politician.

"Too much of anything."

...Makes you sick.

between therapists

2008-01-21T00:22:00.000-05:00

i'm so tough.

i wrote a horrible blog on m.space about how much i hate m. how mature am i? i haven't grown since high school! no wonder no one wants to hang out with me, i am SUCH a cultural foible! no WONDER!

but the arrested-in-development get tough, if nothing else. no more punching baggery for this little one.

maybe cali is glad not to have me around. maybe that's why i left. i'm a loser, from sea to shining sea.

forgive me, all those i hold dear. forgive me my myspacery. it's a harmful place if you let it. i watched what it did to someone else.

but here i am back at blog-land or whatever. it's not that i'm lonely--i'm just between therapists, i think. again. i'm gonna have to cozy on up to someone else pretty soon.

god forgive me, i ask upon the computer. forgive my jealousy and my rage and...everything else. forgive my judgmental-ness.

no, this is not bullshit. i'm under the influence of chemicals. it's just happenin'.

my confidence is shot. wish blog-therapy was as guiltless as it seems. it always catches up to you though. cool on my little island .

it's like -20 degrees outside tonight. wtf?

Sleeping In My Memory

2008-01-20T18:05:00.000-05:00

does anyone know pain? supposedly people do, and they conquer it over insurmountable odds, and that's what makes them so damn special, huh.

has anyone else dated a criminal, or at least a con-artist? has anyone else been incarcerated as many times for not taking a tablet marked, "Life?" does anyone understand? is anyone else this naked?
am i really this deep?

Ode to Van Eyk's Mirror

2007-11-30T03:57:00.000-05:00

All our times have come
Here but now they're gone
Seasons don't fear the reaper
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain..we can be like they are
Come on baby...don't fear the reaper
Baby take my hand...don't fear the reaper
We'll be able to fly...don't fear the reaper
Baby I'm your man...

Valentine is done
Here but now they're gone
Romeo and Juliet
Are together in eternity...Romeo and Juliet
40,000 men and women everyday...Like Romeo and Juliet
40,000 men and women everyday...Redefine happiness
Another 40,000 coming everyday...We can be like they are
Come on baby...don't fear the reaper
Baby take my hand...don't fear the reaper
We'll be able to fly...don't fear the reaper
Baby I'm your man...

Love of two is one
Here but now they're gone
Came the last night of sadness
And it was clear she couldn't go on
Then the door was open and the wind appeared
The candles blew then disappeared
The curtains flew then he appeared...saying don't be afraid
Come on baby...and she had no fear
And she ran to him...then they started to fly
They looked backward and said goodby...she had become like they are
She had taken his hand...she had become like they are
Come on baby...don't fear the reaper

grad school WHAT?

2007-11-25T14:38:00.000-05:00

ok, i am applying to 3 grad schools, in order of favoritism:

1. UC Berkeley (of course! this is the place for me!)
2. UC Davis (closer to my homies in Sac, must remind myself that 31 is the new 21)
and finally,
3. Evergreen State in Olympia, Washington.

while i know people in cali, i do not know a soul in Olympia. i hear it's great though.

as long as i am on the west coast, i will be the happiest grad student in the world!!! :D (and i'll work my ass off too.)

now, what the hell do i study?

just a rumor

2007-11-23T04:34:00.000-05:00

This mellow, sweet short-haired boy
Woman offers, pull up a seat.
Take in one symphony
We have just begun to battle.

Wrap your heel in bones of steel
Turn the leg, a twist of color.
Autumn waited hold it to you
In the colored came another.

[chorus]
Seven chinese brothers swallowing the ocean
Seven thousand years to sleep away the pain
She will return
She will return

This mellow, sweet short-haired boy
Woman offers to pull up a seat
Take in one symphony now
We've just begun to battle

Wrap your heel in bones of steel
Turn the leg, a twist of color
Autumn waited hold it to you
In the colored come another

Seven chinese brothrs swallowing the ocean
Seven thousand years to sleep away the pain
She will return, she will return

This mellow sweet short-haired boy
Woman offers to pull up a chai=r
Take in one symphony now
I guess we lost that battle

Wrap your heel in bones of steel
Turn the leg, a twist of color
Autumn waited seven seas
Swimming colored came

Seven chinese brothers swallowing the ocean
Seven thousand years the commune did reign
She will return, she will return, she will return!

fun is free

2007-11-13T05:43:00.000-05:00

get me out of this town.

i won't say that i don't care where i go, because i DO care. i want to be surrounded with people a little more like myself, and i know that there are places like that.

right now, i am surrounded by expensive car people. i do not know them, nor their family legacies. i wouldn't dare intrude upon their empires, as they've stayed high above mine.

get me out of this town.

i know my neighbors by the cars they drive. i like my coworkers, but used to love them. some of the ones i loved are still there, but many have moved on. it's time i move on.

the towns nearby aren't quite the same, but i don't think i'm quite fit for them either.

sometimes it's fun to be that crumbling bastion of rebellion; that's when young people talk to you and think you're cool. it might be a novelty, who knows. but i'm not sure i want to stay around and fight all by myself anymore.

the greater northeast hates me. well, parts of it anyway. they already know me and they've already made up their mind. my grandmother used to live there.

my other grandmother used to live downtown, in center city. that was where i learned to feel my heart beating in my own body. she lived in the art museum district and painted.

but yeah, i think i need to go. before the deep freeze, anyway.

if my life is cut short...and so many young people are losing their lives these days...i want it to be in a place where i am happy, not lonely and freakish. not in a place where people like me are pushed out into oblivion. i've been through a lot.

i want to stop delaying happiness for myself. i don't know how, other than to wait for things to unfold themselves. i want a sensitive, colorful place to discover. i want a room of my own, just like this one but when i look out the window, it would be different.

to the writers on strike

2007-11-13T02:58:00.000-05:00

do you think edgar allen poe had health benefits?

there are those of us not lucky enough to write for hollywood, or TV. some of us live in government institutions. some of us have mental disabilities. i have been diagnosed with a mental illness, to which my government says, "you're educated. find a living."

yeah, i guess i'm educated. "book-smart," as the tough kids like to say. when i get inspired, i write on my blogspot blog, or this one. maybe i should be paying shipping and handling fees to be sending my work in on paper somewhere. kill some trees. the truth is, my most worldly possession is my personal computer. i can only afford to live in my mother's house, and the things that inspire me are never going to make me millions of dollars. that's our economy right now.

the "fortune," then, is your audience, you jackasses. think about the girls and boys who scrabble around the newsstand at your local bookstore, cleaning up after all the patrons have feasted on your ideas, without purchasing a single magazine. yeah, think about us. and i'm sorry to be so bitter, but i want my MTV, i want my american dream too, even if i have seen the inside of some bad places, been on welfare, been homeless, and been left for dead or retarded by local legislature.

jezebel at home

2007-11-13T02:43:00.001-05:00

last night in my car
i cried in fear that
you were the last one
who'll know me.

i'll be old maybe,
a real character in my neighborhood
like i've always been;
i've never had a single friend
in this neighborhood.

and i'll need someone, won't i!
to help keep me in line,
to cook for anyway,
to make silence
more sweet.

i remember anton,
the best neighbor i had.

i think of all the neighborhood black cats
like ink-spots, places to settle down
when you're tired and ready.

.

when i look in the mirror
will i find her there someday?
my very own "old laughing lady?"
laughin' right back at me?

chap on a stick

2007-11-12T03:46:00.000-05:00

i'm soft, like a woman. and i'm free now...like a cowgirl. and i'm NOT locked up somewhere, and i have all my limbs and i can feed myself and have excellent urinary and bowel control, and i believe these attributes and more will enable me to ride off into the sunset, like a lady, darn it!

"go to bed," you say. stop doing your victory/misery dance all over the airwaves and just find some version of relaxation after...a night of...break-up-age. you. crazy. bitch.

but "you" aren't there to reign me in, or to call me crazy. no one is here but me, and i'm not lonely, and i'm no crazier than anyone else, and i think it's gonna be ok tonight.

lovely specimens

2007-10-23T16:28:00.000-05:00

a ha! when i die, this blog will live on! hooo yeah! up yours!

while my bone-powder cools in a pauper's vault somewhere on the outskirts of the city, these illuminated holes will glow merrily, still. joy! ode to!

bravest, dumbest, most emotional, least obediant girl no more! at least i leave something to the non-existent forensic team who'll refuse funding towards my mysterious disappearance anyway. there ain't enough tax dollars in the world to see it through.

i have wasted my time and your time and will continue to do so! up yours!

the thought of my mortality is a great relief, i want to draw a thousand cartoons of my dead body, a skeleton wearing ear-plugs, the fashion of celebrating the ghouls that came before me, et.al, The Scream that was my grandfather, el dia de los muertos, somebody's serious samhain, a ridiculous poke in our slimy little eyeballs, you cannot find the answer outside of yourself so you might as well keep studying the world around you while you can touch it, while you can respond to it and while you are aware of your flesh-boat that glides you around in the big aquarium.

have a beer with the other kids and stare at lovely specimens, reach for them with your butterfly net. meanwhile stars explode and gasses do their thing and people dance dance dance in the cities and in the forest, which burns.

the general springs a leak

2007-10-23T06:40:00.000-05:00

i wish i didn't have to talk.

singing would be ok, of course. and being with a lover...well, no. i'd rather not anymore. talk, that is. don't want to say "love," or "i love," or "i love you," since it's kind of sullied for a lot of people, including me.

instead, i wish a more colorful destiny for my tongue: tasting wonderful foods from around the globe, sipping precious water and slurpees, toking on a cigarette, making occasional raspberries at situations that make me angry, not saying "fuck" and "shit" so much anymore (how did they become so inherent in my vocabulary?). whistling at a bird. making animal noises. *pop* goes the weasel, and the lollipop song.

i don't wanna holler. i want to understand what it is to use my voice, what it really means. i know it's important, and i know i can make it sound educated, immature, ethnic, sexy, ignorant, siren-like (when i'm angry), and even a little sally kellerman-esque, when the time is right. i can do accents, i can do natalie merchant and even a bit of stipean vowels. i wanna sing work-songs, i would enjoy ridiculous vocal exercises. i can sometimes do eric cartman or butters.

perhaps this is my calling, not unlike sheila levine in Sheila Levine Is Dead and Living in New York. She gets to do voice-overs for children's records at one point, while looking for husbands.

but the most important time for me right now is silence. which is strange since i spent many months chanting "Nam myoho renge kyo". this was a great release, but i feel my next lesson is stillness, silence, finding wholeness from within and perhaps NOT using my voice, not so much.

wet t-shirt contest

2007-10-21T10:08:00.000-05:00

check it out: boyfriend and i were sitting outside of 7-11 a couple nights ago when this tall weird dude leaves the store. i had my window open. the dude heads towards the car and proceeds to squirt his bottle of cold water all over my tits.

now, mind you, some girls really get into wet t-shirts, but i was so stunned and so furious that someone would have the audacity to just come up and do that to someone minding her own business. i got out of the car and shrieked at him from the top of my lungs, "What the fuck? WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" he made one more squirt at my head and began to jog away from my disturbingly obnoxious screaming.

i slammed back into the car and we proceeded to follow the jerk, who had that water bottle cocked and ready to smash bf's windshield. (not serious damage). the thug disappeared.

the best part of this whole story though, is that there was a cop right there, who told us he couldn't help us b/c there was a big accident on Rt. 1, and left. the state troopers showed up about an hour later.

i guess we were lucky. he could've had a gun when i leaped out of the car. boyfriend could've gotten in trouble for beating him up or something. sucks about the windshield.

i left that night feeling pretty strong though. strong of character. as though i were able to look out for myself.

2007-07-29T00:04:00.000-05:00

glass locomotives

2007-04-29T03:47:00.000-05:00

echo goes something like
echo goes something likesomething my go somethings like echoes lie something
like this:

it's a well-sodden season
already saying
what postcards say.

mortgaged black holes.

silken logic will either escape or strangle,
depending.

a string
of moments
of clarity
piles

shatters,
a procession of glass locomotives.

"Please remain seated."

build me a creature who:

chews neuroses
in trash-compactor mouth

efficiently peels back sweet skin-ripple

deflects all-weather eye glint
sees thru Crest-white smile and

is un-simulated in a storybook
but is sometimes on the radio

my god ain't a lawyer.
my god is the law.

[static]

as serious as your life

2007-03-24T14:36:00.000-05:00

i'm about to say too much.

i've lost sight of what's important; i am no longer happy with these standards. they were never mine anyway, and i will not accept them.

i'm only beginning to fall. as always, i will be scooped up somehow, end up in a can of dolphin-safe tuna and daydream about lots of what you don't need to know. in the meantime, if i say something that doesn't make any sense, i apologise.

what's another loony anyway.

bite me, ugly betty

2007-03-09T18:51:00.000-05:00

ok, who is totally sick of seeing that ugly betty chick everywhere? is she supposed to represent Everywoman or something? should my vagina sing out flappingly in praise of her sensible, down-to-earth, smart-but-sassy homage to us girls? is it NEWS that women can be smart? she certainly doesn't stand for MY demographic, i'll tell you that. come on...do YOU know any hispanic families who can afford braces for their children? and besides, they make her "ugly" on purpose because we're all supposed to realize that the true beauty is on the inside, gnarrf. well HELLO, i'm a dynamic, disenfranchised minority with dental problems too! jesus. put bald britney in front of me any day before this so-called salma-hayek-induced ingenue-construct. we all know that where there is "beauty," there is money.

feminism is rolling over in its grave, a grave originally intended for a beloved pet goldfish, just beyond the swing-set in a back yard in Maryland.

i wouldn't miss it

2007-02-01T04:07:00.000-05:00

am i really that much of a heartbreaker?

oh well.

let us all adjust and evolve a little, then.

these words and pretty pictures are all impermanent.

and my life ain't gray's fucking anatomy.

love is never far away

2007-01-29T06:21:00.000-05:00

think of me when it's cold outside

when you cannot see your reflection
in a frozen puddle,
can't go outdoors
with sandals.

think of us
when you're driving to the bay
with all the windows down,
the air smelling sweet and burnt
and the sea so clean and heady.

remember that you are our mermaids,
our faery kings and queens;

let all our wild horses run together
in dreams.

keep it under your yarmulke

2007-01-20T16:06:00.000-05:00

well, i got the punch i requested.

i've just been accused of conducting myself wrongly while someone else was in a time of mourning, several months ago. i was accused of talking about my life for "almost an hour." petty of me, ok. but would you rather have a friend nearby, or nobody? is there a code of funerary behavior that i missed? did i NOT honor someone's life?? who can say?

dying is a process. you certainly cannot be dying forever. even if you're suffering, if you have lost someone dear, you still have the gift of life, of being able to interact and partake of this ethereal world. easier said than done, i'm sure.

you can live under a shroud, or you can try to release your pain. you can watch something green grow, or you can plant seeds of bitterness and guilt in others' lives...and watch THAT grow.

in the process of grieving and releasing your pain, i don't think you need to piss on anyone's face.

possibly un-clenching

2007-01-19T17:25:00.000-05:00

there's a lot of dots that just aren't connecting for me right now.
-how did my room get this messy?

-why did my mother go to the store and stuff if she knew it was going to be too much for her? it scares the shit out of me when she gets like this.

-why do i only have $56 left for the week if i just got paid TODAY??

-WHY do i have Perpetual Teenager Disease (PTD)? is there a cure?

-i found a geographical location i like. i found a state of being, real friendships, a philosophy to follow. why can't i find a way to make it where i want to be, HOW i want to be???

-i need a good cry...could someone please come and punch me?

surprise, surprise

2007-01-18T18:29:00.000-05:00

Franz Kafka

Your Literary Style Is 33% Realistic, 100% Philosophical, and 83% Psychological!

Franz Kafka's literary style is so distinct that an adjective has been coined from his name to describe similar styles. That adjective is "kafkaesque". Your own writing, obviously, is kafkaesque. Kafka wrote very strange, horrifying stories. His most famous novella involves the transformation of a man into a giant insect. His works are not only fantastic and symbolic, but they are often very philsophical and thought provoking. Many of his stories are allegorical or metaphorical, focusing on the nature of spirituality and the absurdity of life. Not only that, but his work is often intensely cerebral, delving deep into the minds of his characters and examining their psychology and the motivations for their actions. Your writing follows Kafka's example by being highly philosophical, psychological, and surrealistic.

Some stories you may enjoy: "The Metamorphasis", The Castle, The Trial, and "A Hunger Artist".

The other literary styles:

Edgar Allan Poe / Jorge Luis Borges / George Orwell / F. Scott Fitzgerald / Fyodor Dostoevsky / Herman Melville / Albert Camus

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 99% on Realistic
You scored higher than 99% on Philosophical
You scored higher than 99% on Psychological

Link: The Literary Style Test written by saint_gasoline on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

fun in the fog

2007-01-17T06:11:00.000-05:00

i decided to write (and share) the lyrics to my brand new R&B song.

please contact me if you are a recording artist and would like to help make this dream a hit.

-----------------------------------------------------------

"Come Settle For Me"
--copyright 2007 J.L.R.

[chorus]
Come settle for me
Come peddle it fo' me
When I'm paranoid and gossippy
Come meddle for me

Come settle for me
Build a shtetl for me
Hansel-and-Gretel fo' me
Let's settle it up.

Yo come and settle, babe you win 'da gold medal
For puttin' up with my shit this long
and watchin' over my screechin' kettle
You got some eyes
you know yo' beauty from trash
Let's be like water, no fight, just flow
You know
those mean plastic bitches is heinous
And that beauty ain't glam, it's subcutan'ous

[chorus]

You ain't just a flash in my Pan
i say we write our own Q'uaran
and make it each and every single illusory second that they say is time and
Blam
this high-art
is tearin' my shit to shreads and
puttin' holes in my Keds
so what I'm really gettin' at here is

[chorus]

This Old Menstrual Hut

2007-01-16T05:52:00.000-05:00

who is joan of arc and did she really exist?
was she beautiful, or did she terrify people?

why am i a woman?

man seems the default, woman the classical deviation. i don't understand why. or what. i feel like i am MY woman, like sigourney weaver in that huge robo-suit she used to fight the alien(s). i feel as though i inhabit a young lady's skin but i'm pretty neutral inside, although i must admit that i do not trust most women. which makes me annoyed, until i realize that i probably shouldn't trust too many men either.

what a ridulous bucket of chum this all is. gender weirdness. intellectualism. competition. the reflexive need for life to surpass, not do what it wants.

winter diorama (with cotton balls)

2007-01-14T04:40:00.000-05:00

aren't i just super? isn't everything i say SO poignant?? isnt' that why i write it; so the world may benefit from my frigging expertise??

i am so turned around right now, i couldn't pin the tail on the donkey. i'm losing bits and pieces here and there, and the oil that holds things is so dry and things become rickety and i can't rely on ANYTHING at all. i feel lost in a dizzying free-fall and i can't get a moment to steady myself to even know what end is fucking up.

everybody else feels this way too. i just have to be the one to whine about it.

throw me a fucking anchor here.

no, better yet...a compass?

all that jazz

2007-01-10T04:34:00.000-05:00

posing and posturing are nothing if you are not familiar with dance.

when i was little i learned how to make my hands like falling autumn leaves. for some reason this memory of a ballet lesson makes me swell with pride, the memories of the days when my body was my tool for expression (and less of an obstacle).

thinking about madonna's "vogue" and how ridiculous it seemed to me at the time; how would isadora duncan have responded to "striking a pose?" ballanchine??

what about pulling a thorn out of your paw? what about brushing your shoulders off?

it's the fear of the construct of you that they've built; it's their Cardboard You that you're haunted by when you stumble down the halls furiously. but remember: it's theirs, and they can keep it.

and then there's always the music.

(cat stevens' "oh very young one will you leave us this time?" pops into my head)

those musicians; each song is a beautiful gift to us dancing ghosts who have lost our way.

and therefore, each dance becomes a story and a tribute to the metronomic thrum in our blood. unwinding the taut threads of imposed reality, working out the kinks of slave-marching, and sorrow into profound meaning.

the fantasy creeps

2007-01-08T13:00:00.000-05:00

life before myspace

2007-01-07T13:57:00.000-05:00

anyone remember?

remember when, if you met someone at a party or bar, you couldn't just look them up and request their immediate friendship and allegiance? ...and all the other scenarios in which human contact is no longer necessary?

i stay on myspace to keep in touch with friends across the country. local myspacery has been ok but has also gotten me into trouble on several levels, mainly just forging friendships with people who are out for their own ends. also, for someone who tends to reveal too much and expect the same wide-eyed honesty and allegiance, it's dangerous.

it's a double-edged sword, this internet of ours. i still just wish i was alive in a simpler time. i'd give all this techie-shit up in a heartbeat if i could be somewhere where people told stories and took care of one another (although in some scenarios i might've had to sacrifice running water, sanitation, modern medicine and part of my lifespan).

man is the charlie brown of all creation, doomed to never get it quite right.

legacy (create your own)

2007-01-02T17:08:00.000-05:00

i just realized (or was informed, really) that i am able to control much of the "input" that makes its way towards my brain. seems so simple, but really, this is a great tip.

"some of them want to use you
some of them want to get used by you

some of them want to abuse you
some of them want to be abused.."

i always gave others the benefit of the doubt since i became a label, or a statistic...but i've reached a point in space and time where i'm realizing that the reality where i reside really isn't quite so askew.

i know that Nature herself is fierce and bloody and terrible...it's unrealistic to want for a world in which no violence will ever occur...no power-plays, no strangle-holds, no abuse-for-sport. i think that we have a choice though--we can either rally on this process (i.e. more blood! more guts! more consumption!) or we can help shit heal.

the key point is that we don't have to be a perp if we choose NOT to be a victim.

(speaking very generally, of course.)

i'm not about to tout moralism, or even humanism, for that matter. sometimes it's best to crouch indefinitely when surrounded by overwhelming amounts of chaos. resilience, then, is learned when one is able to identify when to crouch and when to stand up (and become his/her own superhero, if necessary).

maybe there comes a point in life when one wants to protect, or rescue, or shield others from what he/she has suffered. ideally, this is pretty swell, although many healers remain pretty damaged themselves.

when the cobwebs part, it is still only "you" in the mirror. no one can help you face that.

nocturne in plush hyperbole

2006-12-25T01:19:00.000-05:00

pressure of one-two-many
tender tapeworm

riveted, screwed
makes your brains jostled junk metal

no more saloon with late afternoon
foothill light
no more irridescent elxir in a lemonade pitcher
if i believed in the devil

if i believed, i'd say

he's here just in time for the holiday

*kiss*

who is bought and sold?

2006-12-23T04:20:00.000-05:00

i know i should be trying to sleep now but my chest is pretty tight right now, and i think i may just hang the white flag up on my bedroom door.

"let me go, let me go, let me go" was one of the weird things said by my mother the other night, half sleeping. i know, let me go, too.

my head really feels like it might explode. why are they giving me a hard time? why am i letting it get to me? why are people so fickle and why do some of them harvest your weakeness for their own sense of power?

what it really is is that i am not a freak. i am a gentle person, and i am meant for different environments, and different types of people. and the rage should be used to empower life and fight for what's real to me.

fuck retail. fuck this corporate double-speak horse-shit up the ass with a pair of hot tongs.

kicking ass

2006-12-22T02:38:00.000-05:00

i revel in what a selfish, inconsiderate jerk i'm becoming. truly, truly the easy-chair-with-a-martini.

i stink up the entire building. i'm full of humanoid, hairless ape stink and i can't wash it off.

they're the ones who stink, though, if you think about it. so many of them, like big bugs with big smelly jackets on that smell like the last greasy restaurant they ate at, or cigarette smoke from 1975, or the child-vomit smell.

i think about the punk-rock existence, about the one i tried out, about the one coconut refers to with rhonda. i feel lucky to have experienced it, but like ryan says, that can only happen once. nothing else will ever be that *blammo* because abruptness begets abruptness, i guess.

dead tony used to say to me, "i have a lot of associates, but very few friends." and it was true. tony was a very popular guy. people loved him for his craziness, and he loved when they laughed at him. we had that in common, i guess. court jesters.

i believe in friendship being more solid than romance.

apollo and dionysus

2006-12-21T01:30:00.000-05:00

wowee. well, i did get some sleep and am ok, albeit a little shaky. no thanks to mega-catharsis i had last night. lots of shit hitting me directly between the eyes right now.

meanwhile, i feel i must run my psyche through an egg separator until out plops cupid in his yolky yellowness, ready to toss down the drain for some raw emotional egg-whites. it's a very visceral experience. cold and slimy, but extremely gratifying. and that drain is pretty dirty too.

my soul's riding the freeway and my ego needs to catch up.

i guess i know so much of my own mind, but am truly clueless in this flesh. it's a fun, anticipatory kind of clueless though.

it was real.

2006-12-20T04:27:00.000-05:00

i just took a dive into "gravyboat." omg.

there was nothing to lose. there was a big, Bleeding Me (excellent metallica tune), there were little hints at major illness, abuse, jealous ex'es, and a cross-country meeting.

what a relic! what a mere fraction of our courtship! but as fractions go...*sighing heavily*

i ran away with somebody, with a guy. on a train. i was crazy. we were crazy. we were the epilogue to "the graduate" after they get on the bus, and she's in the wedding dress, and then they start to look very uncomfortable.

i would do it again! i would recommend that anybody and everybody run away, with a stranger or alone! (using wise, street-smart judgment of course.)

i used to think it was theo that saved me. i think he had a huge hand in it, which makes it even harder for me not to wonder about him and where the hell he is. probably conferring with other lost souls? who knows. but it was sacramento, it was everybody i met there, it was shakyamuni buddha....well, it was faith...it was just fucking amazing.

theo, wherever you are: you WERE everything i wished for, and the universe brought you right to my doorstep. (or to trenton, anyway.) you are a miracle, and even if i don't see you for a long, long time, i know i will see you again, and we will be great friends. you will always be the best teacher i have ever had, and you and your mom and alex are my heroes.

i'm beginning to cry. fucking hindsight. how does one straddle the worlds? how did he know that he wasn't what i needed? why couldn't i stay?? can i go back?

what about these fuckers now? i mean, what about my friends? WHO are my friends? just because somebody is nice to you doesn't mean...just because i've lost my mind before doesn't mean i won't again...just because i've given up before doesn't mean i can't try again.

and by try i'm not talking about love-gunk-mashed-corn-beet-juice-yam-shit, either. i mean to ascertain a purpose and a function in the universe, my immediate surroundings being the united states of america--but not being not a statistic, not a calamity.

fuck ego. fuck wishing on a star and getting exactly what you want. i'll never have him back again, he'll never be the same boy. he's KPAX. he was the greatest love of my life and i don't know where he is or what he was or why. that's the thing--he ISN'T. but he was so real, and he will always be the only one.

fuck.

my best friend! why didn't i go back to Ione with you? where ARE you? are you medicated and drooling somewhere? are you limping? did they shoot you up with something?? you can throw cups of water at me anytime you want! you saved me from myself and let me blame you instead. i remember.

and this is why, folks. dear homeboys and homegirls in philly, yo. this is why i am not dead. because i had a friend come and rescue me and introduce me to what i was capable of. because he gave up so much for me, for us, because he was younger than me and didn't know about the world, because he was crazier and smarter than me, and didn't know about how the world makes young crazy brilliant people crazier if you don't believe in the illusion of authority.

the country is such a huge, huge place. this country is so big, and so beautiful. i dunno about "under god" but do, do travel, friends. "and crown thy good with brotherhood from sea to shining sea."

so that's it. i need a rescue mission. progressive, solid and real. i'll do whatever it takes. i'll do time here. i will go back to school if i can. i will sustain and i will go back, when i can.

i don't care what i have to do. auction myself off, have "colleagues," cry and cry and cry!!!!....tell my secrets to parrots and then have them shit on me. in bitches we trust? ok. i'm not a bitch. but i will defend myself.

i'll get back there. but i need to tell you how much i loved him, and how much he believed in me, and how NO, i'm NOT over it.

and how our friends believed in us, and how they still talk about us (me?) in sacramento. and how we trusted each other with poetry and art and song, and oh god, i need every bit of help to find my way back home. i truly left my heart there, and it didn't burn up in the fire like the rest of our remaining belongings.

"some velvet morning when i'm straight,
i'm gonna open up your gate
and maybe tell you about Phaedra
and how she gave me life
and how she made it in..."

autopilot engaged

2006-12-20T01:21:00.000-05:00

i've been keeping the strangest hours lately. not sure if i like or dislike it, necessarily--it's just a completely different pattern than i've ever seen. if i were to be studying my habits, that is.

anyway, i feel powerless and drained. i feel like a lot of those i love or care about are suffering, and there's nothing i can do. and even if there were anything, i feel so inert to fight for anybody or anything but my own dwindling sanity at the moment. i guess all of this is typical holiday behavior, but i really don't buy the fact (literally) that we are supposed to get totally manic at the end of the year, as a nation.

seriously, this is a state-endorsed mania--people not sleeping, over-consuming, eating crap, having magical thinking, cramming so-called creativity into a compact period of time--and then the big crash comes when our family is not like the one in the Old Navy commercial, and our non-existent fiancee is not giving us a "Forever Diamond Pendant," and that you may just slit your wrists next time you see the rapping groundhog or any anthropomorphic, mascot-ish, talking animal sending you post-hypnotic suggestions to BUY, BUY, BUY!

anyway, it's no wonder so many of us feel the way we do right now. in sickness and in health.

i'm sorry i haven't been there in the right way. i'm sorry if you've needed me and i've been acting like a child, or half-baked, or klonopized, or seemingly numb. i'm sorry i've been living for pretty childish things, and i've been leaning on the wrong people for support myself. but i've become strong(er) because i have absolutely no choice. do you?

i've had people really reach out to me lately...i've also had people yelling in my face lately too, but that's another story that's not quite worth it. (i feel more deserving of the latter.) i find myself completely mute when somebody tells me good things about myself. it's like the closeness that i long for has become so twisted by desire and selfish crap that when it actually bears fruit, i wind up stepping on the fucking fruit itself.

jesus, wherever you are, i hope you are happy with what your birthday has become. i hope this is what you'd intended. if not, i don't really blame you, nor have i ever given you much thought anyway, other than the fact that you're always depicted as a handsome white man with long hair and a beard, but a little drawn and tired-looking...essentially your basic stoner.
so dude--it's not your fault, i guess. it's not YOU i should blame anything on, even though so much fucked-up shit goes on in your name. i couldn't bear that! i mean, if all kinds of crazy, hideous bloodshed and meaningless mumbo-jumbo existed in MY name (and i were dead), i would totally find a way to relay the message to knock it the fuck OFF! wouldn't you? J.C.?

ok, that's all the christ-talk i have for you now. as for me, i feel like somebody's just come and taken my personal bodhi tree out with a chainsaw.

my little corner of the world

2006-12-19T06:36:00.000-05:00

some thoughts:

1. it's 6:30am and i've been awake for 4 hours or so. oh well, at least it's been time to spend the way i want to spend it.

2. i got some pretty decent hanukkah presents.

3. i got my period.

4. i must quit smoking very soon. i'm sick as a dog from it.

5. i got my PSU transcript in the mail already! not too great, but it's something.

6. i don't wanna go to work today. really, really, really.

7. i need some money.

8. i'm lonely.

9. i'm not that happy.

10. i want to get back to where i once belonged.

on retail in december

2006-12-18T05:16:00.000-05:00

i am not very logical or shrewd, but am very lucky and resourceful. that's why i was always decent at chess, even though i had no idea what i was really doing. one of the few things my father taught me. you can plan ahead and plan ahead until a million scenarios are flashing before your eyelids, but there's something else you need, too.

we wear our workboots
with steel toes
but when we take them off
we are men and women.

we have passion and curiosity
we may have plans
we may have venomous rage our hearts.

the boots are weight enough. let it go.

count your blessings while they're still around.

let the steel drop and remember that we're all sensitive fucking human beings.

congratulations

2006-12-17T04:27:00.000-05:00

this blog is nothing like me.

i'm a creep in real life. i don't seem that bad at all most of the time, but i guess i get pretty vindictive. and you know i can't stop thinking about why "i" am giving so much personal fucking information out about my character. i could be anybody.

these words don't a woman make.

i used to write on thse things for hours, just about crazy theories and thoughts and ideas i had, sort of hoping to send a weird little morse code, contribute a little to this crazy space-ship shit.

now i just think about gossip. what everyone else thinks of me. how punk rawk i am. but how nasty.

maybe i'm feelin' this way because i just smoked weed with my mother. and we agreed that NO one should ever watch sylvester stallone, stoned.

but my mother is so sick. she didn't even fall asleep right. her muscles are so rigid and her brain is so fucked up. she talked about all kinds of people i don't know.

they always go with the glammier side of the story. and when there's "mental imbalance" involved. i feel like that bright eyes song, "going for the gold." how the jury was formed and the liquor was poured. i totally feel like i'm on trial now. i feel like i could just drop dead and everyone around me would just watch and do nothing.

i know part of that is an attest to the trickery of my brain so i am trying not to give it much credit. however, things are looking very dark tonight. it's almost day.

i can't stop thinking about death. death embodied. death with a capital "d." but he keeps appearing to look like Grimm on that "Grimm, Bobby and Mandy" show on nickelodeon. and i guess he'd have a jamaican accent, too.

i am nothing. please make me nothing.

will the imperial shoe of judgment please splat me upon the pavement like gum!

would the royal turd of the lord be launched in my direction!

may i burn in your male-dominant, judeo-christian domains!

may i be jezebel and expect to meet any other road?

fuck you, mr. goodbar.

2006-12-16T03:43:00.000-05:00

it's too quiet and cold and weird. i am eating little chocolate bars, the "fun size" ones probably.

i'm TIRED of trying to make sense out of the universe! i'm so tired and i just wanna be held!!
(this is why people don't think god is a woman...b/c she'd need someone else up there to hold her.)

i feel like the biggest dipshit ever. i know this will pass.

cue

2006-12-15T06:38:00.000-05:00

i was a frame
silver-gelatin on plastic
fed through spools
and into a machine

i'd get one simple chance
for illumination
that everything should be
blindingly revealed
of me

how could i be recognized
from the others
through the hot lamps?
i am only part of an ongoing narrative;
i am less than one second of information
and not so crucial.

it's hard not to think of myself this way
especially after being cut--
edited by the money,
of less use than those before or after.

who knows,
maybe i'm the moment where the lady
blinks her eyes
or the man begins
to look toward the door--
certainly not crucial.

less than a second.

oh, but i plan for other eyes
and a cooler light
so silver now into lead,
alchemy dictates my own light

form and function co-annihilate

because some days it passes through you,
searing your only meaning

but at other times, you must be
the only mystery.

Island on The Tip of My Tongue

2006-12-14T05:45:00.000-05:00

back in the days when i used "blog" for self-reflection. it frees me to think of myself as the only audience, but i know that may not be true. then again, if what the Real Ones say is true, then we are all one anyway, and the opinions of others are simply facets of my own reflections, my own experience.

i am battling with sarcastic urges. i am battling with female cycles. i am fighting to make even a slight bit of sense of the world. the war is everywhere. some dude says, "LET THE EVIL CONSUME ITSELF." i hope it does.

i am at odds with friends, or they are at odds with me. i don't see eye-to-eye with that many people right now. the things i write have pissed people off, sometimes on purpose, but sometimes completely out of my own suffering and blindness. i don't believe in sustaining conflict. i feel i may have to reach for my machete like jason schwartzmann in "i heart huckabees."

people criticize neil young for saying he's "living with war" because he's canadian. it doesn't matter where you are these days, i think. people's initiatives have definitely changed. perhaps even in california.

california is a part of me, and it hasn't forgotten me, i hope. i just think that the next time i go back, i shouldn't be filled with sorrow, or mixed emotions, or a feeling of loss. maybe it's waiting for me to figure it out, fight the good fight, like king arthur before he went into exile on that island.

can't sleep can't sleep can't sleep.

in my wildest dreams, i am a professional, making my own rules and travelling where i please without worry for money or shelter. i get to be a healer, and die a good death instead of a cowardly, shitty suicide. i get to cultivate love and be self-sufficient. i get to share my life. i get to trust people. i get to be adored and made love to, instead of demeaned and fucked.
and i get to have lots of parakeets.

grace

2006-12-12T00:00:00.000-05:00

at the end of the year,
we have all the answers
but never the
interrogation,
no arena for the beans to roll.

we are able to take stock of the
love we've crippled
the dreams we've pushed aside
the straw men we've constructed
all in the interest of fake honor

at the end of the year
there is death inside and out.
capitalist ferocity parboils and blanches,
a lobster pot heating gradually
and steady now, there is only

the wet, rolling fire.

this is december
and i am an old woman huddling
my squirmy children close.

when i was a girl
i stumbled upon my first
self-activated apocalypse:
omniscience,
within a locked room.

destroyer,
stomper of worlds

love, i pray
keep me tight as a drum so
that i may feed you
meet you pure and
properly harvested

love, i've betrayed
i've strayed from what you are

the gridded days
fail to suggest
that there is so much more
than these 5 fragile antennae
we tout along

the other day a woman told me,
"there are no strangers."

she was mezmerized by purchasing
the ten copies of a book
about flying creatures
that watched over her
and me
and everybody, apparently
playing lutes and oh,
making sure everything
was just great.