margueaux had eaten and regurgitated
a sweet slug found by the fire
it lived, inexplicably
then i held it, its trail
left behind and so difficult to wash
from my palm

that long sleep caused me
distressing reality
tough to separate.

the cry thing is so swift, so immediate.

it seems embarassing at movies with someone i don't know

but draws me closer to someone that i'm dating
yeah, i am an easy cry

current

sky grey bottle by my hand reading about familial impossibility, sadness, but there's strength in that when the difficulty is realized. told my coworker yesterday that her self awareness was impressive and she seemed surprised. post relationship many things become apparent. it's easy to lose yourself,  or ignore certain things, when in the midst of caring deeply about someone else.

~from like six months ago~
sometimes it's really easy to forget about unhappiness, when the sun is out, or there is work to be done, or just because almost everything everywhere is humorous. even crying in a mexican restaurant only lasted for about 2 minutes because the bathroom made me laugh. but then i read someone's sadness while listening to someone else's sadness and could understand why despair is called a pit and being inside it almost feels comforting because the dirt is really cold.

Life Is A Bitch- Fish Tank

the end of a film in which a mother and daughter have such a negative interaction but the connection is just for a second ok

sketchbook bits

"can feel my brain flipping between modes"

"was jesus was leading the way?"

"i think the dream began with a degenerative disease"

"reading in flight magazine and desolation angels. both make me feel restless"

"could we be happy? i'd love to find that again"

"i really want this to happen but i'm not going to push it"

"could study aspects of remorse- maybe after lies, robberies, or murders"

"i still can't shake the visual of crawling across that courtyard with a self induced wound"

i cry so easily that sometimes when tears well i think "maybe the sadness is always there just waiting to come out" even though if someone asked, i would say "i'm happy".

bits from the spring- maybe tweet ideas?

-Backyard daytime and we're discussing potential.

-Earlier talking about circle jerks I couldn't remember if dudes were jerking themselves off or each other.

-When we were coming down the ladder earlier I thought I might fall but he held me.

-The laundry room was cute then awkward.

from the last two months, i think, but i'm not sure why or when.

i was reading a book today that i really liked as soon as i flipped open to page 24 or whatever, called notes from underground by eric bogosian. he said something about enjoying smoking cigarettes alone, late at night, because he could hear the tobacco sizzle. that made me think about the first time i realized i appreciated that noise, when i was seeing a boy that didn't like me as much as i liked him, but we both liked smoking cigarettes in bed and drinking beer on the roof and that seemed to be enough for a short period of time. there were few actual connections other than that but i think i imagined that there were, some "deep" conversation; maybe just being bummed about life sometimes seemed like enough.

trolling the archives

man, some of this is ridiculous:

The dread in Steve's stomach, a slow ache and turmoil, increased as he sat down in the cold brightness of the waiting room. He decided to sign up for the new procedure as soon as Karen took the last of her costumes from the basement. She said she was going on tour with her performance art outfit but he knew better. She wasn't coming back.

from june 2011

I heard this rapid knocking on the door, and I thought- "My pizza usually takes 35 minutes to get here".

I hadn't even gotten a call. Once I opened the door, though, there was a dour stranger standing on the sidewalk in front of my house with no food in hand. She gestured towards the end of the block, and then I remembered her sitting on the American flag bench at the corner, knitting incessantly and never making eye contact. Her dogs always looked unhappy. She seemed to resent my presence, my lack of interest in neighborhood gossip or events. Her face was bland, worn, rundown by a lifetime of relying on the discouraging familiar, and her grandchildren screamed in the street.

There was a weird pause where I waited for her to talk and she waited for me to welcome her in, or make some kind of generous remark. I'm not good with chats. I just stood there. Finally, she said, "Have any of youse been next door in that lot?"

Pause. I got worried, thought I'd done something wrong. "No, not since I brought my bike back inside".

She rearranged her face in this extraordinary way; the wrinkles beside her eyes curved upwards and her eyebrows became sympathetic. Her mouth softened from a tight purse to something almost like a smile.

"I seen this little ball of fluff nexta the house the other day. Mom musta ditched him or something. I been bringing food and water by the last few days but he disappeared. You seen a cat hanging around your yard?"

I stepped down on the stoop and closed the door to hold in the air. "Yeah, there are always cats in the backyard. They've been messing with our tomatoes."

She shifted, apparent concern on her face. " I dunno where that little one went. I been bringing him food all the time. Mom wasn't around, so I was worried. Wasn't sure if you seen him over around the corner. Such a tiny thing, like just born."

She peered around the corner into the gravel and weed patch that was next to my house, checking to make sure the desolate area was vacant.

"Anyhow, just wondering if you saw him or anything. I know you have those cats, you're out here all the time, tryna to find out if he's ok."

This neighborhood breeds people with tough skin, people thinking the newcomer is something to overcome, or reject. I wished I could help, only because it would endear me to them or paint a stripe of acceptance on my door, or something.

Instead, I made a sympathetic sound, a generic response to the thought of a cute abandoned animal, said, "I'll keep an eye out! Good luck!" and re-entered my air-conditioned home with my indoor animals and wireless internet and solid deadbolt to block off the people outside.

being super dramatic, from 7/2011

i'm waiting for the birds to let me know that everything's ok, but it's discordant and hot, and nothing's right. my heartbeat is arrhythmic, with no point of reference, no stability. i used to have a foundation.

things that don't feel ok:

the base of my neck, top of my spinal cord, whatever. i wake up rested, or depleted, it doesn't matter. still a pointer finger driven into that tender spot below what i think is my occipital bone?

i looked in my kitchen menu drawer and said out loud nothing is good which made me want to collapse but the floor was very cold so i just shook my head, hard, and ordered a pizza with three toppings.

january

the curtains are white but heavy enough that the sun didn't feel quite so oppressive still i like that now the lamp is brighter than whatever's outside. there are a few things i've thought of doing, physical movements, like taking off my tights to make my toes stop hurting but instead just elevated my feet. i was going to walk upstairs to get a book i like reading sometimes but there are excerpts and other essays online written by the same person so i opened a bunch of tabs and scrolled through kinda quickly only stopping to read for real when a phrase caught my eye. the internet makes me a bad reader. inundation of material. i made a few lists: "things that are weird", "things i've learned", and "places on my body that feel wrong", the first two being (surprisingly, unsurprisingly) short and the last of which turned into a meditative state in an attempt to usher out tension. unsuccessful.

someone special's keeping me warm

coco bean

sometimes the internet.

(Photo: Cassie Cummins)



“Oh you remember? The last time we came here I forgot my purse. “

“I know, I grabbed it for you on the way back to the train.”

“What is this? Is this art? Is this a plant, or what?“

“I think it’s art. My grandson made something like this. I don’t think it was growing though. Might have been plastic or painted wood? I forgot my glasses that night and didn’t want anyone to know. The opening was much too crowded, couldn’t get that close anyhow.”

“This one’s growing, though. It’s like those ones Barb has in her front yard. Ficus? No, that’s not it. The ones she treats like her children. Can you believe she cried that early frost?”

“She’ll cry at the drop of a hat.”

“And I’m the fool for crying when Jean and the kids visit! It was just that one time, you know.”

“She’s just jealous; her family never visits. It’s a stretch even getting Patricia out here from the city, and you know they’ve always been close. Swear to god when I met them thought they were twins. “

“They don’t look anything alike!”

“It’s the eyes. “

“Oh, I see that”.

“Did Joe say he was going to pick us up here? I’m not taking the subway.”

“Who knows. I can call, but, you know.. the game.”

“It’s always the game. We can get a cab.”

angelina

hunters

paul kwietkowski

crying.

alice.

maybe when i think my stories are too short i'll just recite them over strums and hushed vocals.

last september/this september

things that i will always love

i made this in ten minutes!

(last day of class, newgold band ring)

8.11.11

i had that dream about the infant, curled on my chest, a sibling not a child of mine. the weight stayed as i struggled to wake and turned into a burden i couldn't shake. i thought there was a cat on me, around me, could feel the pawsteps on the couch behind my head but as i attempted to rid myself of the dream heaviness the movement around me turned sinister and i could feel it trying to enter my body. it wanted to come in at the back of my neck and take me over. the sensation lasted for about 30 seconds while i was unsure of reality or dreamstate. i thought of death and fragility, because i had no control over the negative spirit, but then it broke and i was sweating on my couch with this american life still telling the story of prisoners enacting the last scene of hamlet, which i loved, and i felt invincible again. i'm always "unstoppable" in my waking state, when my mind can be controlled, when i can be distracted so easily from my feelings.

That once meant something to me but now it's beside the point.

I'm sure this place was advertised as "just off the highway", which means it's actually next to the highway, like I can count the cars as they pass and would be able to tell you the type of car if I were the kind of person that knew those things. The sun is hot already at 8 am and I'm wearing flip flops with a silk flower on top because in this place I don't care. I actually find some kind of comfort in being super normal. I'm failing at that though, because there's a middle aged couple in the breakfast room and they peer over their newspapers at me with little concealed judgement. Is my dress too short? Of course it is, and my hair's "weird", and I'm not taking my sunglasses off, because my eyes hurt, so I guess my attempt at average and decent is pushed off for a later date.

I'm sharing a double decker bus with 5 other people.

I left extra time to get coffee before the bus came, like a real person. This is something that has never come naturally to me, leaving a time cushion to make a trip more comfortable. I run to catch trains and buses with remarkable regularity. Anyways, it was with great pride that I walked into the cafe, filling up a cup with hot coffee despite the soaring temperature outside. I read once that people in the Middle East drink hot tea because it takes more energy for the body to heat up cold liquid than to cool down hot liquid (or something). I never fact checked this but I think of it every time, plus iced coffee disappears in about five minutes. I grabbed a bagel and little pot of cream cheese to eat on the bus.

I had a knife, but once I opened the container of cream cheese I was transported immediately back to high school, when my daily breakfast was a bagel dipped in cream cheese before each bite. It was $1.10, $1.35 if I elected to get a carton of chocolate milk, which I usually did. I still like that method of distributing the topping; it allows the cool cream to start every mouthful, which is somehow more satisfying than the traditional spread-on-top technique.

I like eating with my fingers. Obviously I'm fooling myself into thinking a little trip planning makes me an adult. Not even close!

from 5.29.11

the early morning light is starting to turn green blue; i hear some foreign chirping animal. a bird? it just stopped its incessant noise.

started again. so cheerful. it's a string approximation, a back and forth waxing and waning of some message that i will never understand. i do a little though. it's contentment. can you believe i'm in love?

more brights

(dazed, proenza, wallpaper)

COLOR INSPIRATION

necklace #2

(embroidery thread, silver bolts)

new work

first necklace made.

(string, embroidery thread, cotter pins.)

sometimes the passing cars sound like breathing, a pulse that comes and goes with a certain repetition. i lived by a highway for years, but that's more of a constant quiet roar, contentment in a small town with people quickly passing through. i remember sleeping at my grandmother's house at a young age, scared of the city noises i could hear through closed windows. it would be ninety degrees with no air conditioning but i didn't want to open the windows because i'd read reader's digest. unexplainable fears. now the noise is comforting; neighbors putting out trash, dog walking, spring birds finally making an appearance. i appreciate silence but i like the reminder of life around me, and every once in a while i think i can hear the hum of 95 which puts me right at home.

4.12.11

there's a pair of tarnished oxfords on my bookshelf. i wore them once, then somehow a driving rain through my open window turned them deeper brown and exaggerated cracks along the insole, creating separations by the laces. the leather's no longer pliable; it was already stiff when i tried to break it in but now it might as well be cement. they're fossil footwear, pieces of someone's wardrobe, beautifully crafted, that will never be useful again.

half sentences with no context

TRANSCRIBED DIRECTLY FROM MY TEXT DRAFTS FOLDER.

"Yeah. Definitely. I'm for irresponsibility at time but"

"Playing pool in Brattleboro, vt"

"Never wearing a silk shirt in the summer ever again"

"Hey babe, last night was amazing"

"I'm doing the worst job at this. I'm"

"Also I was talking to Candy about tattoos"

"Ahh he is puking"

"I'm pretty over this pseudo-relationshi"

"I feel like the walking dead.. Like i've been up for days."

"Haha.. Nothing really. I don't know if i wanted anything to happen..."

"Oh my god! No more!"

"I wish i meant barb the large"

3.8.10

I just found this in a notebook from last year. It's a funny cycle; winter gets me down, then with spring comes a search for rejuvenation.

"The air is crisp, still, that slowly warming smell of early spring. Breezes blow off mounds of snow stalwartly holding their ground. There's such a promise in this season's change, just like every other March but inexplicably new. I wrote so recently about exhaustion, the end of life, and being alone; this weekend gave me new inspiration. I feel like I need to surround myself with people that are contemplative and constantly exploring. Something is missing, and instead of being creative I'm wasting time. I say this too much."

Orelha Negra - M.I.R.I.A.M. X Vhils aka Alexandre Farto from Vhils on Vimeo.

the cai gou-qiang of street art.

from last spring

breeze please waft stronger

this air is stagnant, and still

the heat grows

iris apfel

this woman never ceases to amaze me.

12.12.10

he lovingly wrapped my ankles in thick twine. i complained when it was too tight, and the knots were loosened. as i reciprocated the action, tears slid off the tip of my nose to the graveled ground, and he gently smoothed them away. i couldn't speak, or my resolve would be broken. the rope next surrounding my shoulders felt like an embrace, a definitive physical representation of our love that could not be held by earthly boundaries. i held the end of the last bit of rope, and he grasped the other end to his chest, spinning slowly in place to wrap it around his torso. we sank to our knees; he was now crying as well, but peacefully, with no hint of fear. finally we lay on our backs, the stars a glinting reminder of our imminent escape to a world of our own creation, free, at last alive.

[edit:this sounds like a romance novel. my bad! blame the wine]

emma cooper

writing prompts. is this what news is today?

NEW LEAKS SUGGEST CHINA LOSING PATIENCE WITH NORTH KOREA

A LESS THAN FLATTERING LOOK AT LEADERS

CLINTON SLAMS DOCUMENT RELEASE

SERIOUS ACTOR BECAME SULTAN OF SILLY

5 THINGS TO LOOK FOR IN A GREAT TEQUILA

BRIDAL SURGERY SHOW DEBUTS TO CRITICISM

COUPLE'S FIRST HOME HOLDS SURPRISE: METH

OFFICIALS: ARMED STUDENT HOLDS HOSTAGES

TEEN INDICTED IN OREGON BOMB PLOT CASE

SUICIDE ON INTERNET SPARKS DEBATE

GAGA 'DIES' ONLINE- FOR A CAUSE

COUPLE ALLEGEDLY HID FIVE KIDS FROM SOCIETY

on that disney ish.

pogo-wishery

i'd have to agree.

cyndiiii

it's halloween

i'm halloweened out. see you next year.

someone once said, "when did women become beautiful?"

must have been sometime before 1922.

Whenever I ride the el, as it decends towards the Second Street station, I see spectres begin to appear in the tunnel surrounding the train. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, wisps of light and vague features solidify then dissipate, sometimes traveling alongside, other times flashing by, buried in the subway walls. Some are familiar, vaguely, like childhood memories long gone.

STELLLLLLAAAA

i do love valentine...

wes anderson and sofia coppola for stella artois.

maybe overlook the advertising and just enjoy the colors and general art direction.

10.18.10

she sat by herself at table one, looking out the window, two bottles of red wine in front of her. i approached and asked if i could open one, and she looked at me unseeing, buried in her thoughts for a few seconds before answering that one was open already. i retreated, wondering if her date still to arrive was romantic or platonic, a boyfriend or blind connection. her eyes looked disappointed already after a short wait, so i hoped for her sake that he was a stand up guy that wouldn't stand her up.

he came, soon, and i returned to the table. i was surprised by his appearance; he was middle aged, balding, with unflattering mediocre frames. she was slightly younger, but attractive, blonde, wearing a wrap dress and sexy but sensible heels. my snap judgement at this point, that it was indeed a blind date, was erased when i realized their conversation was comfortable, friendly. he ordered for the two of them, an action which may come off as polite but which i expressly dislike, as it's based on the implication that the man has better taste in dining than the woman, or that he's assertive and in charge. that traditional male/female domination/submission habit has got to go.

i realized, though, as their dinner continued, that they were on equal ground. happy, dining together as a special treat, they held hands over the table, just for a minute, and i could tell they were still in love.

he ordered her a second foie gras ("my girl, she just can't get enough") and this time the gesture seemed caring, not dominating. he realized her desire and wanted to fulfill it; she protested halfheartedly, jokingly.

the night went on, the restaurant emptied slowly, and still they sat, enjoying the food slowly. both were lightly drunk on the wine and the rich food, laughing and teasing each other, making joking bets and empty promises.

after hours, the drinks gone and the final chocolate eaten, i was imagining them stumbling a few blocks away to their brownstone, making love, a night for the memory books. while clearing a table nearby, i overheard their conversation.

"when can we do this again?"

"i'm not sure". he cleared his throat, glanced at his watch. held her hand. "i'll call you a cab".

her face, just seconds before so glowing and peaceful, looked crestfallen. she re-arranged the expression to determined resignation.

they walked outside together, intimate, and he ushered her into a car outside and walked away down the sidewalk. ten minutes later he returned, shivering, and said, "i forgot my coat."

i retrieved it from the closet and handed it to him. as he put it on and turned towards the door, i saw him reach in the pocket, pulling out a ring, which he slipped on his finger before walking outside into the cold.

10.13.10

the stomachache; interesting how such a physical reaction can occur because of emotional or mental distress. it's usually associated with dread, at least in my case, which is interesting because nerves and anxiety aren't usually part of my reaction to life. as i realize one is coming on, i first have to determine whether the pain is located in my uterus or closer to my solar plexus. as i realize it's not a monthly woman type thing, i then analyze all foods recently ingested to figure out if i've eaten something to make me sick. after crossing these options off my mental list, stress is the final option, so i have to accept the fact that my body's telling me i'm upset. i'm pretty good at ignoring emotions, and not thinking about my problems, so i get kinda aggravated when they're so sick of being pushed aside that they attack my midsection. i think my organs are putting out a hit.

10.12.10

the tomato jungle in my backyard is a mess, the fruits resting on the ground, colors gradating from bright citron to bruised purple red. i don't have much of a green thumb, or a propensity for responsibility. the stakes my roommate bought for the explicit purpose of making sense of the garden are leaning in the corner by the back door, neglected. they stand next to a bag of potting soil; lack of garden shed turns the kitchen into a catch-all for tools and equipment, so i'm constantly reminded of the tasks i'm shirking.

house music/ swedish pop

museum of bellas artes. watch the glow.

oh ye denver birds

brisbane based group create offbeat harmonies and layer countless instruments to a make this stand out track- one of the best songs i've heard in a while (yes, i realize it's been around for months).

1984.

maybe it's time to dress like a lady?

biting the hand that feeds

White Sea - Mountaineer: "White Sea - Mountaineer"

stills from the brand new white sea song's video shoot.

more teen dreamz.

via rcrdlbl

"Pier Angeli, 1971 or '72, also pills. Donald "Red" Barry, shot himself in 1980. Charles Boyer, 1978, pills again. Charles Butterworth, 1946, I think. In a car. Supposedly, it was an accident, but, you know, he was distraught. Dorothy Dandridge, pills, 1965. Albert Dekker, 1968. He hung himself. He wrote his suicide note in lipstick on his stomach. William Inge, carbon monoxide, 1973. Carole Landis, pills again. I forget when. George Reeves, "Superman" on TV, shot himself. Jean Seberg, pills, of course, 1979. Everett Sloane - he was good - pills. Margaret Sullavan, pills. Lupe Velez, a lot of pills. Gig Young, he shot himself and his wife in 1978. There are tons more."

-James Leer, Wonder Boys (2000)

most peculiar mama

yes.

9.28.10

i think about train hopping, traveling, cities passing by in a blur of filth and steel. destinations unknown materialize with no introduction; truck-bed naps make distance nonexistent, and miles pass regardless of my desires or dreams. i'll keep that thumb out by the roadside diner, crash at some waitress's spare room, and just make it by.

america!

fiction 09.16.10

"roy will call, i swear."

my mother boarded the bus, after tossing her overloaded bag in the compartment below. i watched her leave and felt nothing.

at this point, we had been living together for a few months. my father was back in town, so she re-appeared, latching on, attempting to keep the family together. he'd show for a few days then disappear for another week with no contact; she'd be in and out of touch with him, waiting for some reassurance. while she stayed with me, she'd leave for hours, or even days at a time, and i knew she was crashing with him in some heroin den, blocking out sunlight and reality with every hit.

after three months of this behavior, i attempted an intervention, but on my own it was close to impossible. i thought, after watching the tv show of the same name, that i had the right words to say, but she was past my help. after countless rejections, i told her she had to leave my house; her actions were far too destructive and painful for me to bear.

that's what brought us to this bus station today. i'm not even sure who roy is, honestly. i think it's her drug dealer in seattle. i can't care anymore.

delorean, yeah!

unexpected approach.

one of my favorite blogs, six sentences, had this great entry today:

No, Ma'am, it's not at all an odd request that I cut your obese eight year old son's $25 steak up into bite-sized pieces before serving it to him. Sure, Sir, I'll take a picture of you pretending to take a bite of your underage girlfriend's crotch with a fork and knife, and by the way, that's very creative and funny. Nope, I don't mind at all that you place your hands on my waist and push me to the side, ever so subtly grazing your hand over my ass as you pass by. Of course, folks, you can take a picture of me to show all your friends back in Texas "the tiniest waitress you've ever seen." Yes, I do this to pay my bills. No, this wasn't quite what I was planning on doing with my degree.

-Tia Napolitano

night train tonight.

on a small black kick.

or, a small black kid.

this song gets better with every listen. also:



bikes. mark. spankrock. what else do you need, really?

she'd been going to the same restaurant for years; every monday afternoon, she'd walk down from her third floor walkup, around the block, and get a table by herself. after ordering the requisite coffee, she would pull out her brown notebook and begin to write. usually, there were many observations to be made: the aging couple in the corner always had an interesting argument, often about the kids, the cat, the garbage. it was generally commonplace, because they'd been having the same conversation for years, but it made for good type.

the bickering could go on for days, because it never had a beginning or an end. they'd been together for so long that their interactions centered on a general dissatisfaction with life; it was nothing to do with each other, really, but every disappointment that they'd ever endured was now let out on their spouse, because they knew nothing else.

there were other regulars: the ancient bearded man that sat at the counter and ordered a slice of apple pie with black coffee, the plump woman that brought in various friends to taste her favorite pastries, the after school crowd looking for donuts and handouts; she knew them all.

the personal interaction was her fuel; the server seemed flustered but friendly, so her writing centered around that woman's background: why is she waiting tables? is she in school, paying her way until graduation? is she supporting a child, paying for preschool until that deadbeat father gets his life together? is she in the middle of a twenties crisis, post grad but pre adulthood?

too deep, she thought. just wanted to write about prepubescent wayward middle school youngsters, or nonsensical septennial altercations, but this had resulted in self reflection. so it went, as a regular, because you could never separate yourself from the others that shared your space.

eventually my hair will look like a combination of these

(img src google "lou doillon)

hide yr husband

i don't care how many times you've seen this, it's priceless.

(i think i'm up to 20)

my thighs, pouring sweat, stuck to the hot leather of his passenger seat, but i couldn't imagine sitting anywhere else. we sat at the end of his cul-de-sac, nowhere to go to escape the heat, slowly smoking cigarettes and drinking vodka iced tea. i forced myself to adopt a nonchalance that belied my excitement, attempting to match his level of cool. he wore dark glasses, of course, which made it even more difficult to ascertain his thoughts, already so impossible to read.

the neon lights reminded me of a past existence, which may have been in the future; we were standing on top of a neolithic skyscraper made of bare stone. civilizations were falling around us but somehow the party went on.

"What about little microphones? What if everyone swallowed them, and they played the sounds of our hearts through little speakers, which could be in the pouches of our overalls? When you skateboarded down the street at night you could hear everyone's heartbeat, and they could hear yours, sort of like sonar. One weird thing is, I wonder if everyone's hearts would start to beat at the same time, like how women who live together have their menstrual periods at the same time, which I know about, but don't really want to know about. That would be so weird, except that the place in the hospital where babies are born would sound like a crystal chandelier in a houseboat, because the babies wouldn't have had time to match up their heartbeats yet. And at the finish line at the end of the New York City Marathon it would sound like war."


"Humans are the only animal that blushes, laughs, has religion, wages war, and kisses with lips. So in a way, the more you kiss with lips, the more human you are. And the more you wage war."

"I felt suddenly shy. I was not used to shy. I was used to shame. Shyness is when you turn your head away from something you want. Shame is when you turn your head away from something you do not want."


-favorite quotes from extemely loud and incredibly close, by jonathan safran foer.

i think i want one of these as a pet.
(thanks signe)

boyfriend//birthday.

anti-nostalgia 8.25.10

i walked briskly through misting rain to the chapel's door. around me, couples huddled under black umbrellas, suits and heels signifying their wedding attendance. inside the foyer were countless familiar faces from years past, practically forgotten, memories gone extinct in an effort to erase certain lifestyle decisions. youth group leaders, worship team members, babysitters, "aunts and uncles", classmates, shared experiences. i said hello to a few, smiled at most, nodded at others. it was easier that way, uncomplicated. i didn't want to tell the same story fifty times. annie said, "i'm glad you're coming with me, because we're both outsiders". it's funny, because i'm one of the originals, but she's totally right. i'm not a part of that anymore.

emerging adulthood

so, it's true; we are not children, not yet adults.

"what is it about 20-somethings?"

i knew that already.

(photo- luke chrissenger, taken by yours truly.)

it was erin's birthday!

gorgeous.

airport thoughts 08.19.10

arms sore from lugging vintage luggage (who wants to be seen with a rolling suitcase?)

yes, bartender at phl chickie and pete's- i would like a beer at 12:30, and yes, i am wearing too many silly bands.

docs with shorts look amazing, but in sweltering heat feel like lead weights.

traveling makes it easy to spend money like it doesn't matter- maybe it's the discomfort of waiting, walking, waiting, sitting, walking some more; i feel like i should reward myself, or treat myself, because it's all unusual and slightly annoying. or, maybe, i buy treats because the experience is exciting.. "i'm on vacation", etc.

i can't wait to be in peaceful, beautiful new hampshire.

unknown date: found in old notebook

for my roman roommates, a stream of consciousness account of inside jokes and memories.

"so missing rome.. the tangible, painful aspect of leaving has slightly faded, though the time contrast lives on. i'm almost back to us time, finally. i wish i wasn't. i was so homesick on sunday, for arcioni... i miss the free buses, the cobblestones, the wine lady on quattro venti, tapping mac, andy but really everyone, fish n chips, even francesco, difts, scholars, no hot water, the moka, pasta every night, spicy sauce, meeting at the colosseum, the maids, acrobat protectors, smoking on the balcony, big star, marcello, whiskey coke, dance parties while getting ready, blue steel face in the bathroom mirror, losing my keys, vino, olive oil, archi bar, the studio, visiting friends, ryanair, weekend travels, dovè??, allora, prego, non ló so, maan, basta!, "i don't even care!", TAXI, "i can't get up..." "she can't get up!!!!!", "it's a video!!", groovy, street chicas, that guy you know? god?, arguing, passing out in my clothes, drunk food cooking, gauloises, not studying, waterfall in the kitchen, mary jo college nights, wine night?!?!?!, skype dates, phone cards, peroni, stella!, guinness!, nastro azzurro, italian 40's, the irish, leg humping, total eclipse of the heart, flashdance!, "i love dj's.." "i love you too!", worthful, 2007, being broke, borrowing money, passport stamps, water taxi!, "michelle's going to murder me!", "give me a break, courtney", hungry harry's, st. christophers, v&a, eiffel in the rain, eating greek food in paris, venice fish, sangria, walking for 15 years, the broken foot, ben canada, phone number tattoos, elena, the other francesco, mark, don pepe (?!?), blood red shoes, heatwaves, johny price, supermarket, nic, radio cafe, circolo degli artisti, "i fell, let's go...", "i broke my arm!!!", "keri doesn't care about me!", "you're only saying that because you know we won't!", big bang, testacchio, coyote, porta portese, the 710, 75, 44... 40N?, climbing over guardrails, the 8 tram, losing everything, getting lost, "do you like your life?", "va fancula!", not being a study major, ancient roman dinner party, "the nutcake", thanksgiving, the bird in the hat, notes on the fridge, wine in mugs, parm on everything, nutella, gelato, the trevi, that tuesday night (vino alla panteon e scalinata), JUSTICE, happy hour at finn mccool's, spilling wine in my bag/dumping it out/getting kicked off the bus, THAI!, salutè, ssseriously, hash, barbeque, the barco naumon, almost getting arrested in london, ghetto the gay club, stairs in your hair, baby romulus, yawn, antoinella: "scandalous!" "my students want to see me naked!", naked spanish man cannonball, sleepovers, zoo bar, sleeping on the beach, squid ink paella, tapas, street performers, two pound pints, that meat shop with sandwiches, the coffee machine, going low, "look in the mirror! you're an embarrassment!", carrying around sugar, piazza venezia, corso, san lorenzo, trastevere, sitting at the bar and not drinking, the secret orange garden, tiber island, being sharked, transit strikes, termini, fiumicino, ciampino, "how are we going to get a taxi if we're walking on the sidewalk?", "justyne, why are you dancing like that?" "i'm too drunk", 'crowdsurfing', gropey guys, red bull vodka, circolo's gardens, "my friend here is in love with you", "i have to go, my girlfriend is going to see us", leather jackets, "compliment for american student!", thai steps, big star steps, audrey graffiti, cig machines, night buses, the pyramid, circus maximus, catacombs, the vatican, "did you meet the pope?", scented rosaries, gypsies, the roman forum, on the rox/going in the men's/breaking a glass/getting sick, the infamous courtney night, big star strength drinks, boxed wine, jameson tasting/graduating whiskey school, il bar, la trattoria, corneto, CONTROL: "well, you know what ian curtis did before he left for america", "but christmas time is supposed to be a happy time!", overdrawn bank accounts, end of the golden age, villa pamphili, carini, fratelli bonnet, dirty kitchen, borrowing milk, first class flights/mimosas/socks!, broken shoe heel, carrying/being carried home, beer for the road, mtv italia, alluc, arcioni 3: the band photoshoot, "i feel like i'm not even here", tiny elevators, buzzing up, ciao bella!, that lady on the first floor, leaks downstairs, leaving the gas on, eggies, dove pizza?, the flowerpot at scholars, 24 shots, car bombs, phillies games, singalongs, that bartender, "there's a hole in my shoe!", "do you really enjoy this torture?", "I FEEL TRAPPED", "i'm going to have to follow you around!", drip drying, 5:09?, roman holiday, ikea trip.. psyche, breaking all the dishes, taking bar glasses, drying laundry on the furniture, vibrating washer, screaming, laughing constantly, not sending postcards, damè cinque, mental breakdowns, all day hangovers, cold floors, hair burning, flavian curls, bidet hair washer?, the philly visit, the british girls, grandma dovè, ciao ragazze, ti amo, there's poetry in a guinness, some people prefer jameson, drew wheeler, "liar!", canadese, capitoline museums, cinadus=girly man, the overlook, the taxi to nowhere, "that dude looks like my grandmother", when in rome, "i love taxis", make up/break up/dress up, italian class trip to the club, getting the flu, la farmacia, sidis, jus running out of circolo, riding the tide, remember when...., annika, bad news, "it was like my ipod shuffle", not going to milan or brussels or florence, wine tour, tuscany, cinderella wine, homemade pasta, the italian george clooney, broken bus, anxiety, "why are we walking? we could be sitting at home instead!!!", AS ROMA, RIP my black clutch/grey scarf/ wallet/ mirror/ single earring/ court's umbrella/ my umbrella/ blue sweater, oil and vinegar, panini, cappucini, crik-crok, snack friends, chips in london, "world famous", mapsen, not going to campo, notte bianca, "skip the trevi, have a bevy", bus a metano, vittorio emanuelle, no bagels in the jewish ghetto, superbad, "fidi, they're craaaazy", "brendan, i love youuuuu", "remember when we knocked this down?", "i don't want you to leave, i don't want you to leave", limoncello shots, the lazy susan table, glass noodles, cucumbers & peanut sauce, fights at coyote, "over the rainbow, so high", tiziano ferro, centerfuse in the big star bathroom, "i want to be able to stand up tonight", marco, ideal bar, flower stands on the street, sidewalk gas stations, smart cars, no stopping at red lights, vespa rides....."

Repost: Written October 15, 2006

Summer. Dartmouth Co-op. Mainly just Dan and I.

"This guy, ok, he's visiting all the Ivy leagues- trying to at least. He asks us where they all are. Whoa, ok, we don't really know. There's a scuffle over where exactly Penn was- yeah, I got it wrong. Lame, considering it ends up being in Philly, where I go to school. So here we are afterwards, like, way to not know where they all are. I pull out a sharpie and a scrap of paper, you know, neatly write down the Ivies and their locations. One twist though- after Dartmouth I write Hanover, VT.
See, there's this kid at work, Dartmouth student, real smart. Intellectual and all that. Great guy, really, but he's got more than a touch of the Dartmouth elitist attitude. So here I am with Hanover, VT. Thought the guy would see it up on the tack board, mention it, you know, 'Hey, who wrote this? You got the Dartmouth location wrong!" It wasn't going to be a big deal- I'd say I made a mistake or something, small joke, ('Oops! Oh, that's right, NH') and move on. Maybe tops we'd game him for a little bit, I could be be a little more confused, who knows. Small time stuff only.

The plan changes when this kid notices the sign. I happen to be off work this day and my buddy Dan's working. They're upstairs when this kid's like, 'Whaaaat? Dartmouth, Vermont? Does she realize she got it wrong?' Dan rolls with it, you know, 'Yeah, I don't think she knows. I didn't want to tell her when she was making the sign- you should ask her about it.' Perfect.

So there I am, next time I'm working with the kid, he brings it up. 'Keri, did you realize you messed up on your list of the Ivy Leagues?' He's smiling, thinks it's a joke. Oh no, man. I'm like, 'What? Which one? I thought I double-checked them all.' Still smiling. 'Actually, Dartmouth is wrong. You said it's in Vermont.' Here's where it gets good. I act completely straight, Dan too. Oh, no, it's in Vermont. Sure, yeah, Lebanon's in New Hampshire, but Hanover's Vermont. You know, with Norwich, cause they all go to the same high school. I mean, we're right next to New Hampshire, sure. I know I don't LIVE in Vermont, that's crazy.

Dan pulls the "Yeah, I know where we are but it's not really that crazy that she's confused. I mean, Vermont is RIGHT THERE, you know?"
Oh, lord, he argues. He pulls out a map, shows me the Connecticut River, how it separates the states. Points out the tee shirts we sell that say Hanover, NH. ('Oh, I never noticed that!') He's so incredulous- stunned, really. 'But you've lived in this area your whole life? Your parents went here? How can you not know? This must be SUCH a shock to you.'

I get so confused, defensive, embarrassed. All 'I can't even handle this. How could I have not realized?', while Dan's still, 'Keri, it's ok. I mean, Vermont is RIGHT THERE. Don't feel so bad about it.' I pull down the sign- guess I have to change it, huh. Wow, and I double-checked all the schools and everything.

Customers are listening to the whole thing. One guy's like, 'She's lived here her whole life?' Then to me, 'Haven't you ever written a LETTER?' I say something like, oh, no, I've never lived in Hanover. I know I live in New Hampshire.

Ok, so after ages of this, the kid gets off work and goes downstairs. Dan and I FLIP. I'm laughing so hard I tear up- really can't believe what just happened. Jared comes upstairs- he just missed it. We're talking over one another, stumbling over words, "It was AMAZING! Completely BRILLIANT!! We were so straight, playing off one another, he fell for it, what just happened? Oh my god." Jared's like, "Oh MAN, I know, he came downstairs and was all, 'Keri must be in such shock right now. She just found out that Hanover's not in Vermont. She seriously believed it was. And she's lived here her whole life!'"

All right, out of control. He'll never know we were gaming him cause he'll blatantly think I'm trying to cover up for my stupidity. Sick, right?
"

fictionalized true story

repost: written november 3, 2006

"all the world's a stage (dive)"

opening night. empty stomach. nerves. late.

makeup. half of costume.
jokes. banter. rehearsal.

"on in five"
red bull. rest of costume. second red bull. nerves. music.

backstage. darkness. stumble.

lights. line line dance line laugh line. off.
tiptoe. relax.

banter. tales. adventures.
intermission.

breathe. change. empty stomach. nerves.
cold wind. shaky.

backstage. glass in hand. on!

laugh laugh flirt line smile line frown. leave indignantly.

over. breathe. greet. clean. collapse.

throwback- found recently from abandoned myspace blog

"scene:
backed up taillights extending into the dark. closer now, flashing lights. closer still: the car, driver's windshield smashed into the vehicle, the surrounding shards of glass flashing in response. there- a black hat, stranded in the middle of the intersection. i walk by it, close, too close. and there- a solitary red sneaker much farther down the road, by the wreck of a car. it holds my gaze in a magnetic pull of disbelief. that sneaker. punctuation at the end of a story. a question mark perhaps. ellipses? there may be a continuation. at the moment, though, it's a period stopping an incomplete sentence. abrupt, final. my chest tightens and i fight the urge to stop movement in an attempt to stifle all other emotion. my coping mechanism changes and i walk as fast as possible down the sidewalk away, until even my peripheral vision can't see the lights."

i wrote this in december 2006. i can still picture every aspect of this horrifying accident.

AHH STOP IT

post acid

throwback/updated.

shades of blink 182. i just wanna be this young forever.

i wish my hair wasn't too damaged to do this.

I LOVE THIS

white hinterland.

million young.

getting birthday stoked. this is real dumb/cute.

yarnbombz

vena cava

Seyðisfjörður

via yvan rodic. i don't know if this is just for a fashion shoot, but whatever- it's amazing

major clothing inspiration- late summer early fall