clocks

all the clocks are melting
like i'm living in a
salvador dali painting.

even the metronomes can't keep time.

each carefully measured step,
filled with uncertainty--
conductor-less.

these days are unplanned phrases.

heart beats are telling
signals of tempo
with which to guide plans.

i have lost track of time.

it's better to just breathe,
in three part harmony
with the wind and the moon phases.

all of the clocks are melting.

somehow i get lost
and forget to keep
time when i am with you.

maybe

maybe there's too much on the table.
maybe decay has set in.
maybe we just didn't have enough time to finish and it's too late now.
maybe trying will make us sick.
maybe that's the way it's supposed to be.
maybe we've had enough.
maybe there's no room for more.
maybe we don't even want more.
maybe that's ok.
maybe.

thanksgiving

my stinging eyes see blurr-ed edges of tiny cities made of empty promises,
and all the little people, eating someone else's sacrifices, sitting at their tiny tables whilst their minds roam.
they are inside their tiny houses.
today they feast and give empty thanks.
tonight is for libations and debauchery.

my blurr-ed mind stings with slight reminders of empty promises.
and all the little notes, their tiny words meaning-less and less, ignite my collection of tiny sacrifices.
they are scattered on my torso.
today they smolder in my vacant chest.
tonight is for breathing without lungs.

not myself

I can't get out of my head today.
Every time I try to leave, I'm overcome with the feeling that I've forgotten something.
I go room to room, in my head.
- throwing pillows
-lifting papers
-sifting through pieces of me, strewn about my bedroom.
I get the feeling that what I'm looking for is myself. I seem to have forgotten parts in every room.

How can one person hold onto so much stuff?

Frantically, I search for my missing pieces, just to get out of my mind for a minute.
It's like trying to leave the house and thinking you left the stove on -- even if you can convince yourself you turned it off, a part of you will keep reminding you that your house is burning down.

You can't get very far with one foot in the door.

So maybe it's just better to stay in my head today.
Every time I try to leave, it's clear that I'm not myself.

overwhelmed with nostalgia.

i am 26 today.

these days

i feel drained. i need to spend some time with myself.

heavy

there's a lead lined hole in my chest.

it weighs me down everyday.

i feel it when my lungs expand and contract.

i'm waiting for it to kill me.

i think it might happen in my sleep sometime.

or possibly when i'm walking to the train.

the hunter

i have an addiction.

ever present. all consuming.

it makes my palms sweat and heart race.

adrenaline junky.

it hides behind ink-covered musculature. it grabs me from behind.

- sneaky.

i have a habit i don't know how to kick.

life sucking. life giving?

and it makes me hunt it.

sharpened eyes. sharpened talons.

i am its predator. i sense it everywhere.

grasping. clutching. groping. catching.

i take it by its heart and make it mine.

savory bliss. savor a kiss.

you bike riders/glasses wearers/Smiths listeners cannot hide.

fix.

15 minutes at the green eye

moments of silence breed your memory as a newborn regret to cradle.

when i am alone in stillness, i am harassed by the still-ness in my heart.

still wish you were here-ness.

still have so many what ifs-ness.

still hope you will come back-ness.

i create memories that never were in new places i go.

you felt like there's no love without sacrifice.

i shed tears and sacrifice myself on your altar daily.

the things that never were are what i miss most.

thoughts while listening to Radiohead on shuffle

full moon, just post-twilight sky.

breathe in and release.

it's the beginning of "that time" again.

(listening to exit music from the start this time,

just to be sure i get it right this time.)

first few autumn nights.

inhale and release.

just trying to see a few stars.

(trying not to disappear completely this time.

trying not to, "but for a minute, i lost myself" this time.)

clear skies, cool breeze.

suck it in, blow it out.

hand holding opportunity.

(not gonna rush it this time.

gonna do it just right this time.)

cutcutcut

she sees only that which she is not supposed to see.
vision is her scalpel; she cuts through scenes precisely.
she discards the scraps wrecklessly.
she has never recomposed them into a different picture.
she has exacto-ed her way to a world without fluff.
unrefined defines simplicity.

today's horoscope

Dearest Libra has once again won the favor of the stars. The price of this is the stars want to sculpt you to serve their own purposes. Sculpting details in your life is a painful process but the outcome can be inspired. There is a price to pay for allowing yourself to be the star's clay.

procrastination

it's amazing how fascinating the world is . . .
when you're supposed to be ignoring it.
stolen moments are an addiction that i just can't beat.
there's a fairy with a tiny pitchfork sitting on my shoulder.
she uses it to point out the best distractions:

a song
a picture
a little boy on the bus
a flower newly bloomed
a pretty girl on a bicycle

and i look, like a fool, at anything she points out.
and i think, like a fool, about it for a few borrowed seconds.
and i waste, like a fool, whatever "extra" time i might have had.

but it is a treat to do what you are not supposed to. . .

my arms and ears are always open,

even when i try to keep them closed.

my heart cannot ignore you,

despite my best attempts.

unconditional love.

something old

the vibrations of sound are sneaky. in certain combinations, they induce time travel and bouts of paralyzing nostalgia. for each lost moment, a sound accompanies it, buried alongside it in my mind's depth. the subconscious noise of "i miss you" when i want to forget everything about you is only heard over low levels of minor chords. you know the feeling. on another note, there lies fantasy. a wish or a hope nestles itself between the melody and the bass line. it's what's in between that gives life it's fullness. "you" and i are in between. always have been. if our rhythm wasn't so far off, i would be more entitled to think us great composers. instead we are greatness unrealized. misshapen chords. disonant desperate attempts at harmonizing friendship and lust. it's what is between friendship and lust, melody and bass, that brings fullness. this is to let you know that
when the weather changes,
i sing your praises with words and phrases
that only you understand.
when a cool breeze rises,
lyrical surprises
find their disguises
in electronic poetry.

it's over now

don't lie about us.

it was what it was and it's over now.

coulda, woulda, shoulda done this or that.

it was what it was and it's over now.

no such thing as a do-over.

but don't lie about us.

just let it be what it was and let it be over now.

i said i was sorry and i meant every word.

but i'm not sorry now.

you made your choices and i've made mine.

somewhere along the way, we had some good times.

but don't lie about us.

it was what it was.

don't lie about us.

epiphany

it might mean something that all the songs that remind me of you were suggested by someone else.

new wave

pink checkerboard floor. a sputtering, spitting, liquid crack dispenser. 33 pages to go and all i can do is listen to the guy behind me reminisce with his friends about when he first started dating his current wife. "she told me she knew she was going to marry me before we ever even went out. i feel like i didn't have a choice in the matter." poor girl, i think. you're so lucky to have a woman who wants to love you for eternity. the guy at the table next to me seems thoroughly annoyed at having to hear this story, but not annoyed enough to get up and leave.

i left a long time ago. it feels like a waking dream being here.

dirty hipsters, caricatures of the "neighborhood kids," dressed in neon prints i used to wear before i dressed myself.

i must have superimposed childhood garb.

neurons firing in my brain or subconscious thought?

there is new art on the walls. they look like pieces i've seen before, maybe on a sunday afternoon excursion once.

i've been here before and i like it less now. today i like everything a little less.

1,000 foot steps today, farther away from him than yesterday yet still the world seems a little more grey, even as i surround myself with neon covered faces and neon covered spaces and not even the tiniest of traces of places we used to go.

the harder i try to forget, the more i'm forced to remember.

now there is lack of choice: being reminded.

Sonnets/unrealities

"it may not always be so

and i say that if your lips
which i have loved
should touch another’s
and your dear strong fingers clutch her heart
as mine in time not far away

if on another’s face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know
or such great writhing words as, uttering overmuch
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay

if this should be, i say if this should be
you of my heart, send me a little word
that i may go unto her, and take her hands saying
accept all happiness from me
then shall i turn my face
and hear one bird sing terribly afar in the lost lands"

-bjork-

Summer Goals

First of all, I can't believe it's almost summer already. In fact I almost refuse to believe it. That means finals are here. ARGH! However, as this is my last summer before the bar exam and getting a real job, I have decided to finally do some of the things that I have always wanted to do, at the ripe old age of 25, during the 40th anniversary of the summer of love.

1. Concerts, tons! Pitchfork, Lollapalooza and more!

2. Pictures. I am going to finally learn how to take pictures, nice ones that people will want to stare at and contemplate.

3. Tattoo. Finally getting that tree piece I've been talking about for the last however many years.

4. Writing. I'm going to submit an academic paper for publication, some poetry for publication, and finish my novel. One must write things to be a writer, yes?

5. Yoga. I need to start doing yoga again. I miss the feeling.

So look for pictures, tattoos, concert updates, links to my publications and something about yoga this summer. And if you don't find it, bug me about it.

Thanks!

Faun Fables last night was out of this world. Going to see the Sleepytime Gorilla Museum tonight and then will post about it later!

The Year of the Concerts

My New Year's resolution has been to see as many concerts as possible, regardless of who agrees to go with me. I love going to shows and at some point I stopped going to them. No mas!

Now I have decided to start writing about them.

Last night I went to see a band called Tough Shits at good old Ronny's. They were surprisingly awesome for a Wednesday night show at Ronny's. The sound was punk with some 50's influence and the song "I Heard She Kisses on the Mouth" is just so damn catchy!! Very fun.

Here is a list of shows I've seen thus far, if I can remember them all:

Fancy Contraption - Horseshoe and Studio 3A.

And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead - Logan Square Auditorium

Cursive - Radio Room, Austin

Balmorhea and J. Tillman - Western Vinyl Showcase, sxsw, Austin

lots of bands I don't remember the names of all over Austin during sxsw

two shows at Ronny's I should have written about because they were good.

John Vanderslice and the Mountain Goats - Portage Theater

Upcoming shows:

Black Kids and Mates of State - Metro (if I can find a spare ticket)

dredg and From Monuments to Masses - Empty Bottle

Faun Fables - Bottom Lounge

Sleepytime Gorilla Museum - Bottom Lounge

Peter, Bjorn and John

Pitchfork Festival

:)

salt

i have run out of beautiful words for this.

last grains of salt from a vastly empty shaker,

i think i may have a couple of tasty morsels left to poison myself with.

heart beats faster. heart beats faster.

heart beats stop.

silence silence silence.

new beginning.

unexpectedly perfect moments are the best.

a ghost

is there a reason for the heaviness i carry with me?

there's a warmth i feel when i stand still;

there's a rhythmic breath against my back.

is there a reason i can't feel the lightness of peace?

"there are roses in your hair and a lily on your breast."

there are your songs playing in my dreams again.

is there a reason i can't forget about you?

there are miles between us now.

there's a stranger in your bed.

is there a reason you won't stop haunting me?

there are millions of reasons.

there are millions of distractions.

2am

it's that time of the morning when i can finally be alone: i bounce ideas off the moon and whisper sweet nothings to my pillow. twilight, a good winter, hazy red wine evenings. . .

me: i haven't mastered nostalgic and neutral yet.

moon: "been over this, so over this."

me: i am happy. i feel nothing. i am hopeful. i feel nothing.

moon: "i wish i could free your mind as i have freed your heart."

me: what might have been lost is me.

moon: "the universe is infinite. she gives us many gifts. there is joy to be had, my friend, there is much joy."

my bed swallows me in its embrace. my heart swells with love and pain.

it's hard to love people when you're scared of love.

Are we there yet?

Getting back into the world of singledom is strange when you haven't been there in a while. It involves keeping late hours and always looking your best. Gotta get over the fear of talking to strangers so you can make new friends and meet new people. And then, once you've met "him", what next? Over the weekend, this question was posed to me over and over, "At what point does he become 'my boyfriend?'"

I mean, we've all been there before. At some point we recognized that the time had come and taken the plunge. Then back to being single and it all gets complicated again. And not just for women either. Everyone has this problem. Do you formally ask for permission to use the term? Should there be gifts exchanged? Dinner at a fancy restaurant? Or do you go totally casual and spring it on him? Maybe there's a discussion involved?

In my personal experience, I've just asked, "Are you my boyfriend?" or been asked, "Can I call you my girlfriend?" But then, being out on single safari, it just seems like that would be really awkward. I think that I must have selective dating memory and forget all the traumatic experiences once I get into a comfortable relationship. It couldn't have been that easy to just ask about it. I can barely ask for a phone number, let alone a commitment.

At the end of the day, I have to think that "honesty is the best policy" and "when you're ready, you'll know" and all those other, horrible cliches that people use as advice when they give you no definite answer whatsoever. Every relationship has it's own dynamic and at some point one of you will blurt it out or the suspense will kill you enough to ask. And a little red wine never hurts either.

i tried my best.

I'm sorry

Dear World,

I am sorry I've been so strange lately... confrontational, insecure, upset.... I just had a memory that made me smile and realize that I am happy with the way things are. I had created an idea that you and I were on the outs, that perhaps you were always my nemesis. But, dearest Universe, I know that you have love for me and that I have love for you. I remembered the little messages that you leave for me to find to let me know. I am love today. :)

on the pages

In serif and sans, typed up and by hand.

Laughter,

grins,

giggles,

smiles, .

Thoughts as letters, feelings in venn diagram.

Tears,

blood,

emptiness,

heavy sighs.

Read aloud and in the streets.

Love,

longing,

content,

sad goodbyes.

"Click-clack, click-clack,"

- typists speak in keys.

Lists,

poems,

stories

til he dies.

Right now

Merlot.

Radiohead.

"And it wears me out, it wears me out.

It wears me out, it wears me out.

All the time.

Nonono

I'll walk away because you asked me to.

Find and love someone new.

I'll pretend just for you.

Kiss them and hold them as you want me to do.

But I will never forget and I will never like it,

Because the person that I chose was you.

Isn't it odd?

When sitting in complete silence I can feel gravity tugging at my hair.

You might think it strange to feel the force of 9.8 meters per second squared.

I find it quite normal to be aware of things at the roots.

When sitting, staring blankly at the wall, I feel exposed.

Feeling naked fully clothed is quite strange, I suppose,

But I can imagine the stares deep in my thoughts.

When sitting in the dark, I feel light headed.

Dizzy yet supported by thick night, strangely embedded.

I am not yet grounded in the embrace of night.

When laying on my bed I can feel time slip away.

You might think it quite odd to worry about time as I lay.

But I want to catch the seconds in my palm.

When sleeping I can feel you disappear.

Strange in slumber to let go of what is dear.

I will abstain from dreams tonight.

Something Old: A Perfect Circle

when the merry go round stops, the ride is over, and you are alone again. the music stops playing, the children stop smiling, the world stops spinning, and you are just you. same you that was there before the carousel took off. same one you didn't like. the ride is over, you're supposed to go home. ah, but you never made one. the other kids are off playing and smiling with their old friends and the cardinal and monkeys are gone back to their trees. and you're on the ground, waiting for the next ride, the next diversion from a you going nowhere, doing nothing, spinning but only in recollection of when you were someone else for a moment... happy, clear headed, giddy and dizzy. it was like romance in childhood, frivolous and fun. but the ride is over, and your friends have gone home and the world has stopped spinning, cycling, twirling you in its circular reasoning that keeps you where you are and tricks you into thinking otherwise.

carry me ohio by Sun Kil Moon

Best song ever!

sorry that
i could never love you back
i could never care enough
in these last days

her tears fell on her pages
found me out
on her words
i don't know what to do or say

wading through
warm canals and pools clear blue
Tuscarawas flow into
the great lake

riding back
where the highway met dead end tracks
the ground is now cement and glass
so far away

heal her soul
and carry her my angel
ohio

green green youth
what about the sweetness we knew
what about what's good what's true
from those days

can't count to
all the lovers i've burned through
so why do i still burn for you
i can't say

sorry that
i could never love you back
i could never care enough
in these last days

heal her soul
carry her my angel
ohio

children blessed
gather round the home she will rest
so poor and cold in their midwest
moon and sun

flashes bringing on
my open eyes to lightning storms
the touch of mist
felt soft felt warm on my face

graving dreams
a million miles ago you seem
the star that i just don't see
anymore

words long gone
lost on journeys we walked on
lost her voice is heard along the way

sorry for
never going by your door
never feeling love like that anymore

heal her soul
carry her my angel
ohio

the rain

The rain has come to cleanse this place at last.
Gray skies induce calm breath.
Wetness, freshness, new.
Thunder grumbles in my ear, telling me to rest.
Sullen light soothes.
Condensation clears what has passed.

Musica

If you don't have Bon Iver "For Emma, Forever Ago", you are missing out on something important. If you are sad and want some lyrics that you can "relate to", Reindeer Section "Son of Evil Reindeer".
If you are feeling cynical but want to feel good about it, Modest Mouse "Good News for People Who Love Bad News".

Reflections on "Skinny Love"

And the first thing to go was my pride.
Second guessing myself immediately,
relief and anxiety rolled up together,
was this all a mistake?
"I told you to be patient . . .
now all your love is wasted."

And the second thing to go was my dignity.
Always my better half, always my inspiration,
not trusting myself to do what was right,
had I made a mistake?
"In the morning I'll be with you but
it will be a different kind."

And the last thing to go was me.
Formed around you, nestled in you,
lost my point of reference,
I had made a mistake.
"Cut out all the ropes and let me fall . . .
right in the moment this order's tall."

For the Record

I am not depressed or anything. I am just more inspired by sad emotions and the idea of sad emotions.

The Healing

It feels like a fever.

Confused, hazy thoughts accompanied by sweat and shivering.
It feels like drowning.
Can't breath, pressure, desperation.
It feels like a burn blister.
Pus-filled remnant of the cigarette you put out on your forearm.
I didn't know it was possible to ache on command.

Pretty Successful Day

These beautiful, synthetic shoes are mine, and for under $20 too. I've been looking for something with a T-Strap and the Mary Jane thing is good too. However, I may be bordering on too many red shoes.

And this is not mine. I went to Borders to find Book 8 of the Sookie Stackhouse series. The inventory information computer said that it was likely in the store. It was not in the store. It would have been a wasted trip had I not gotten a different book to tide me over until Amazon can continue to help me out. I only went to Borders because I had an awesome 40% coupon, and for that reason I got a bargain on The Historian. If anyone has any book recommendations, I am really in need.

Tonight I will attempt to make a Buffalo Chikin Salad with Vegan Ranch Dressing that I figured out to make from this blog.

Cheers!

Lady Parts

Tonight, I get to talk about my lady parts in front of a couple hundred people. I am in the Vagina Monologues! I'm pretty excited as I haven't done anything like this in almost 10 years! That makes me sound really old. Wish me luck!



Also, it's snowing again. I don't mind the snow in theory... I just hate not being able to see the sidewalks for months at a time. All the snow melted about two weeks ago, but last night, it came back. I am not a happy lady... and I am a clumsy lady. Wipe out number two for the winter occurred last night. I have to say, this winter is decidedly less awkward than last winter, but I still look weird when I walk in the snow.

Last night I went to a Texas themed bar and it was actually pretty good! $2 PBR tallboys are pretty much unheard of in these parts. Fancy Contraption was playing and let me tell you, that Megan can sing! Also, stand-up bass is always sweet. A couple of the members are friends with my cousin and it was nice to see them play again.

I'll try to have some more artistic postings for you next time.

High Fructose Corn Syrup - Just like sugar... except not.

I was watching Real Housewives of Orange County while reading a law review article about ethnic conflict as a result of Market Dominant Minorities, when I saw this:



It's possibly one of the most appalling ad campaigns ever. Basically, the message is, if you can't say why it's bad, then it's not bad. I can't tell you why Leprosy is bad, but I know it's not alright in moderation.

The fact of the matter is that childhood obesity has gone through the roof since the 1970's, when soda and junk food companies started to use high fructose corn syrup instead of sugar in their products. Childhood diabetes is also not good in moderation.

I have to say, the characters are also, how to put this delicately . . . stereotypical? The white suburban lady is afraid of things she doesn't really know anything about. The African American woman has some colorful HFC laden juice with no label or name, but a very non-organic color (anybody see Dave Chappelle's purple drank?). Ugh! Ugh, I say!

Welcome

So in breaking the tradition of talking about things repeatedly and never doing them, I have started a blog. Many of you may remember my old blogs, which were simply collections of random, stream of conscious poetry, much of it morose. This blog will, hopefully be much different, though I can't make promises. What I will try to adhere to is the following: regular posts of pictures, poetry, recipes, humorous adventures and other such insignificant thoughts from my life. Please feel free to enjoy my ramblings. Welcome!