doodle

“Cleveland?” Thom looked incredulously at all of the license-plates with that curvey Ohio signature. “What the hell are we doing in Cleveland?”

“This is where I call home, baby. Home sweet home, good ol’ Cleveland, Ooohiiiiioooo.” Annie blew her smoke out at the factories scattered around them as they began to cross the river.

“Watch out with that cigarette, Annie, if you drop it, the river might start burning again.”

“Fuck off.” Annie put her head out of the window so that even if Thom had said anything she couldn’t have heard him.

He couldn’t figure out that look on her face. It was like she was seeing something that he couldn’t. The way her eyes softened over the haze of the smoke-stacks. The way her lips seemed to embrace the measly skyline. Her smile was one of comfort. Like she had fallen into something soft and covered in satin. Where he could only see “fucking Cleveland” she was seeing home and even the trash on the highway seemed to welcome her back.

to make up for the last two days

I haven't been around much recently and i have to apologize. it must be weird for my body- to walk around without anything on the inside. but, sometimes i have to escape- run away to places yet untold and in my mind everything is well- everything is calm- while my body gets hung up by the thumbs- twisting and pulling and peeling- high pitched lemon tears. "make it a double make it a double" (that;s the second morphine reference i've made in my blog- shit...) it is 10:20 am and i have officially decided that it is time to get things moving- put ink to paper- say fuck it all and kick some ass. yell at the world for holding my head underwater and rip off my shirt to reveal the thousands of iron muscles underneath...bitch.

too many yer mom jokes for one evening

what if one day i say "uuumm...i was with yer mom last night an it was really good" and you start laughing because i always joke like that but then there's this uncomfortable silence because it's actually true...i WAS with yer mom last night and it WAS really good...would that ruin our friendship?
-different thought completely-
sometimes it would be nice to just tell the truth. For example:
-How was your night last night?
-Pretty good- I fucked myself until two in the morning- my hand still has a cramp!
-Wow- that sounds like a workout!
-Yeah- how was your night?
-Oh- you know, I cried myself to sleep because I miss you so bad.
-That sucks- I'm sorry. It really sucks that we had to break up but I just hated the fact that I still had to sneak into your house so your mom wouldn't know I was there and you never washed your underwear.
-I know- it was pretty lame. Plus, I never told you but I was sleeping with your brother the whole time. So it's probably a good thing we broke up.
-My brother's gay? You're gay?
-Only sometimes.
-Well, it was really nice to see you, but the conversation just got really awkward so I guess it's time to part ways.
-Definately! And even though it's a terrible idea, if you ever want to have meaningless sex with someone who's still totally enfatuated with you- give me a call!
-Wow! That does sound like a terrible idea! I think i'd rather smash a brick repeatedly into my skull.
-I'm not gonna lie- that really hurts my feelings! But it's all good- because I'm sleeping with your sister and all four of your roommates too! See you around!
-Yeah- see ya!

8:40

it was stupid of me to work today- working everyday- not stopping to get any work done- not the best way to exist in the world. today is rain and this weekend has been ghosts. i see you out of every corner of my eye- why do i sometimes miss you? only now- only when the leaves are turning- and this month is supposed to be someone else's. and danny says that we should love the whole world and to spend to much time on one person is to deny you the knowledge of someone else and it's your duty to know as many people as you can and to love them all. but my heart is not that all-incompassing. i need to take my time, survey bodies and make maps to use when i get lost in someone's skin. i need to feel that slow falling in- the transition from complete strangers to complete comfort...even though one day when you go to lean on your lover they have disappeared- and you fall on cold. i hope i can get a haircut soon- i don't want my hair to become mulletoid.

meh

sad face...llike this: pouting your lips down far- away from each other, towards the cluttered floor. knit your eyebrows like the mittens you'll never learn how to make. squint your eyes up scrunchy and whine a little bit in between talking about sad kind of things.

happy face...like this: stretching your lips up and away from each other and towards that clear blue sky. open your eyes up wide to take everything in and laugh the way you did in middle school when you all would laugh so hard without understanding why.

liza face...like this: remain neutral- almost robotic because you don't actually realize that these things are happening to you. scrunch your lips up to your nose to see whether or not it's cold. blink a few times because your contacts are dry.

"when the war is over you can read the paper"

ahha! so that's the way of it then? Why the fuck is this all underlined??? So annoying. Everything's so annoying. staying over my house- eating my food, drinking my beer when i offer it- what's up with that. i wish i could get my life back together for a minute or so. i hope i did ok on my paper- if i did i hope i get it back today- if i didn't i hope i won't find out any time soon. Morality...such a strange concept really- doesn't really make sense but we all know transgressions when we see them. Do we like them better when they're so impossible for us? Or are we appropriately turned off from the whole idea? I like comics-really i do- they are everything- they are life- they are not my life- but i kind of wish they were- i wish that brian vaughn and terri moore and david mack just flowed off of my tongue like your saliva- but they don't really and i'm always swimming in some lake full of stuff I don't really want to be submerged in. It's getting in my nostrils. in my eye-sockets. and you looked comfotable yesterday. so comfortable that i wanted to forget that we're supposed to hate each other now and i came so close to wanting to kiss you that my insides fell out through my fingernails. You were there and i was not. or we were both there but couldn't see each other. or we were there and i was yelling at you so loud to turn and face me and just make something make sense out o f this pile of shit. but you couldn't hear me i don't think. and then what happened next i saw not and speak not of.

ramblings

There is a light outside my bedroom window and it flickers on and off. Like it’s a motion detector and it can tell when the butterflies in my stomach are flying rampant and when I’ve been able to calm myself down. Off and on; somewhere between helpful and annoying, somewhere between light and dark. Somewhere between laughing and crying. It flickers on and it makes me think of the way he smiled and it flickers off and it makes me think of the way he cried and the way I wanted to gather him up in my arms forever and whisper him stories that never happened.

I got uncomfortable around him easily because I knew that I could do anything at all and he would still love me and I didn’t know what to do with that kind of power. We would sit on the hill across from his work overlooking my old elementary school and he would watch the way I had no idea how to communicate with him. We would look at each other and he wouldn’t flinch when our eyes met and I didn’t know what that meant so I would kiss him and try to force myself to feel something and then when I felt something I would kiss him again to kill whatever it was I was feeling.

And he would smoke and I would tell him he shouldn’t smoke and I hated myself for sounding like a mother and he liked me for sounding like I cared. And he would drink and I would say that I didn’t drink and I hated myself for sounding like I thought I was better and he liked me for not being like everyone else in his life.

And he would cut himself and I would tell him that he shouldn’t and I hated myself for looking after him. And he liked me because I noticed.

The light turns off. The light turns on. The way he would hold my hand even when I didn’t want him to. The way he wanted me even after I had left him for someone else. The way he never asked me questions he didn’t want an answer to. The way he put his arms around my stomach at a concert and the way I felt proud to be there with him and he felt proud to be there with me. Like we were both saying to every one else: “look what I have, this person is mine.”

The way I smelled like someone else. The way he knew but didn’t ask because he didn’t want to know. The way I wanted to cry when he told me he loved me. The way I have forgotten what it means to love someone else. The way I have forgotten how to cry.

The light turns off.

germans play golf with a shotgun

they're taking down my house around me and all of my windows are open- I'll have to get dressed in the bathroom. i can't believe it's already almost noon, I feel like I have more to do then i had thought and then tonight will be all crazy with closing at the job I don't actually work at....bla. These people are going to keep coming into my house- GO AWAY! Today is almost my day off. tea is warm. cereal is cold. i should have just had tea for breakfast. but i guess that's not very filling is it? I'm out of it this week- don't have anything to keep me zipper-lined to the ceiling- instead i'm bumping all around the room- like helium balloons in the apocolypse.

paul...my bedfellow

the weekend has been non-existant and everything swirls around me without getting caught in my fishing net. I've heard from dead men, walked arm-in-arm with annie oakley, changed genders three different times and danced with strangers. Right now I am pouring hot water into an old tin bowl so I can get in and stay warm. not until november, i keep telling myself: not until november. I left early yesterday at everything and I hope that my lovelies understand that my wanderlust has little to do with anything apart from how heavy my body has become. working under silver jewelry and falling in love with people that cannot belong to me. smoking cigarettes that invade my brain putting burn marks on neurons and smoked nooses around my capillaries. I swagger cowboy style when you see me, but really, I've lost my legs.

"i'd like to take it apart and find your bloody heart"

my fingers are only bone splinters that twist around your entrails at the days closing and you are so tired and wish it would go away but your pillow has turned to stone stone stone and when you try to fluff it up you break your hand. Isn't that how these things always go? Spinning around toytop until fall and break open on the concrete sand. i think i had a dream with your face in it glowing like always and then exploding into everywhere. and you tell me that the remedy is there i just have to look for it. all i know is that there are small ones around our stomping feet and they break easy when our boots fall hard. you'll ask your mother for forgiveness and your father for protection. your sisters will knit you socks and your brothers will kick my ass and you can sit lotus in the middle having some big breasted woman stir honey into your tea. is that what it is then? just you (siddartha) and me (jezebel) and our guide (orpheus) walking around blindfolded bumping into each other. eating our hearts for breakfast and our livers for lunch and our jugulars for dinner. what's for dessert? i only wish that i could tast you briefly before we bleed ourselves to the end of it. see if i can claim what's yours underneath all that mess.

o! light shining through

last night my computer told me that "judgement" was spelled incorrectly and that in fact it was spelled "judgment" and now I'm looking at the third volume of the ex machina trade edition and it clearly has "judgement" written on the cover. and next to it is a pack of michigan lighthouses and on the other side operation ivy and "the wealth of nations" along with an umbrella and a roll of masking tape. my socks are right over there and a pile of applications i've picked up over the past couple weeks is cluttering the table by the window. my roommates colored on some paper plates yesterday and now we have one of the sun and another saying "bienvenidos a nuestra casa". i feel like they should be hung up somewhere but for now they're just resting in front of the record player. i am too bored to make it through today. the go here get this done tell them what to do write up on this thing duck your head down there kind of day spent with people who think too much of themselves and never shut the fuck up. that's the kind of day that i have in store for me and it makes me want to get back in bed. i was the first one up today even though my roommates both have class at ten and i have class at 12. i wish coffee money grew on something that was close to my house so i didn't have to consider it an expense.

onion eyes

kind of strange to realize that this is it. i mean, i'm writing on the internet for nobody really at all except for myself and that's kind of depressing. like i'm reaching out into the universe but only coming back with a fist full of air. hopefully the electronic world of the internet and my computer is enjoying the tickeling sensation it gets while i type, while i post- otherwise my life will be like the bottom of a pot of beans that have been left on the stove for two days- that no one wants to clean because it's so caked in by now. then again, maybe my life is like that anyway. i'm tired and sick of not doing work and instead just sitting at cafes trying to come up with other things to occupy my time. i'm tired of talking and sounding the way i do. i'm sick of the things i say. i'm bored with my limited knowledge and over-pronounced opinions. i'd like to just be translucent for a while. a piece of plastic wrapped around cylindrically sliding up and down sidewalks. i'm done with creating things that no one will ever like and never having enough time to make things that i like. i'm through with having the only people who like my stuff be people who don't know the difference. i'm bored with thinking about sex i don't get and the memories i don't like. i've grown too old for your face (that fucking face) and i'd like for it to disappear. i'd like for us all to disappear. from time to time.

all I need to be happy

I coud eat whole boxes of macaroni and cheese and listen to Joanna Newsom for the rest of my life and be content. all i'd need in between is a good book, a phone call or three from my sister, a cup of tea and every once in a while someone to touch me in the way that reminds me of what i'm supposed to be evolutionarily. That's really all. all i really need.

in the morning

it's hard to figure out what to wear when it's raining so hard. makes me wonder if it wouldn't just be best to get back in bed and sleep the grey day off like a hangover. my bicycle is sad these days without a nice day to frolic in and my neighbors hack down their trees with such gusto like there must have been something offensive about the whole thing.

there are some stories i just wish would never end.

everywhere and nowhere at all

weird how things get scrambled together and fried like this. like remembering how i used to look at his back, remembering who else has put butterflies in my stomach remembering how long it's been since anyone has and how long until anyone does. and that's ok. just odd sometimes. like my life isn't quite what everyone is always telling me it's going to be. and how "friends" sounds so easy until you realize it's just a very fine film over the roaring monster that really lives underneath. if you scratch, like i always do, you'll see how ugly it really is under there and even though the cover is creamy and a little salty like they all used to be, you'll prefer the outside to the hostility that's underneath. and who knows why it's there in the first place. it just is. it's just the way things go because once you find out who someone is and then leave them behind, we all get kind of embarassed that our secret has been discovered. so we turn beastial. and that's where we all live. somewhere between secret sharing and teeth bearing.

i'd like to unstring your knees so i can finally get my harp to sound like something important again. your tendons never did sound so sweet as when i was plucking them like this.

ode to you who i should have loved

you words are cold on white screens, dear plaid eyes. I wish you'd breath more life into it.

the basement is warm as any carpeted cinderblock could be. nintendo creeping into your fingers while Kraft singles melt into their plastic without anyone noticing but we eat anyway and can't tell the difference.

one day my 15,000 page autobiography will be found clogging my gutters and you'll wish so bad that you could read it through the water damage

rabbazabba

yesterday i climbed into bed after i took a shower and i felt my skin get so warm against itself and the steam from the bathroom was piling billowy into the hallway and i was so happy to be there with myself until i remembered that sometimes there is someone else there and they crawl into bed with you and tuck their legs up underneath you and even though you can be warm on your own, you'll never be cozy like you are when you're snuggled there with someone else. thinking like that got me to shivering and i tried not to remember the way skin feels right up close to you but the memory was so sweet like ice cream after you've eaten too much anyway and that's where you fit in with me yesterday.
i guess nobody's ever told you about how the steam gets in your blood, boiling it away until it's nothing but a thin layer of scrap on the basement floor. at first you might be kind of upset about all that blood getting away from you, but i've lived without it for long enough and it's honestly not all bad as they make it out to be.