My Life & Love ~ A Fairie's Tale

Christmas Presents

2006-12-16T13:46:00.000-08:00

Okay, so Am says that I have ten presents coming and she gave me clues. Anyone who wants to guess, PLEASE do!

4 1/2 mins away/mall - price check
take it with me/water proof
Black BRIT belt

India/Flag
Tree painting
Tupper ware
Drill saw - like the bitch used

Snow flake
Transparent
larger than globe when not smooshed
Framed in black

5) A FABULOUSLY cool sweater!
Distressed
Inside out/wood/art - burned - plus
Brisk - fast or cold or hard

Madonna
I have asked fo it by name - (doesn't really help)

Shoe-ies

Quart size container/Ben & Jerry's Ice cream - Chunky Monkey - CD
Inside 1 cubed foot
Pillow - soft, comfortable

Color: black
sail boat
pencil sketch of a monk

Frisbee
not home or Hammond
happy new year 2006

cat in the hat t-shirt
spinning in space, globe/earth, satellite
marble egg
long notes

Thank You Camp Lake Stephens

2006-11-13T17:32:00.000-08:00

August 29, 2005 changed my life.
It’s hard to use the word ‘changed’ because words such as ‘ruined,’ ‘destroyed,’ or even ‘ended’ seem worlds more appropriate. On that Monday I came face to face with fears that in my real life were only distant whispers and other fears that I had never imagined. Everyone I loved was impacted, my whole family and all my friends. Over the next few day and weeks we rolled the words ‘homeless’ and ‘unemployed’ around over again and again, in hushed voices we tried those words out on each other.
“How does one ever recover from this?” I asked myself.
The answer became blatantly obvious, one does not recover. Three, six, even ten do not recover. No, recovery comes from the efforts of many, many people; strangers who reach out simply because, and in every action, large or small, make a wave of difference.
Recovery is not an absolute; a place to be reached and once obtained becomes complete. No, recovery is slow and hard and sometimes it feels further than ever and at others it seems so close.
For me, recovery started the day my family and I left the AmeriHost Inn and arrived at Camp Lake Stephens. The support and humanity over poured from every person there.
It’s hard to work your whole life and strive for self sufficiency only to realize that without the charity of others you can not exist. Only at Lake Camp Stevens it felt more like accepting the hospitality of family then holding a hand out for strangers help.
I have tried so many times to write this letter, to express in words what my experience there meant to me.
In a time of my life where ‘lost’ and ‘abandoned’ would have been the most applicable, I found that more and more often I was being shown the face of God. When I hurt the most in those first days I found incredible peace in the rows of the outdoor chapel. Since then in my lowest time I close my eyes, envision those moments and let that peace get me through. I have a feeling it will be something I do for the rest of my life and one day I hope to visit there again.
There are no satisfactory words, no way to explain, and no thank you adequate.
Still, thank you and your families!

Today I Am

2006-10-24T08:47:00.000-07:00

Today I am this girl, can’t remember what color her hair is
Who doesn’t know her role in life and sees a strangers hands
And yes I meant it when I said I loved you
But I didn’t realize you thought that meant it was okay to make plans
I just don’t do so well with a schedule
A pre-set timeline of when and where
‘Cause I never know when I’ll show up at your house
I might get there early or I might decide to stay home and change the color of my hair

Who I’ll be tomorrow
Isn’t who I plan to stay
Yet, I’ll probably always try new things
I’ll probably always be this way

And now I am going to rent a scary movie
So I can pretend to face my fears
When in reality monsters just don’t scare me
It’s the world that leaves me trembling in tears
And what it is that scares me
Has no face for me to face
It’s all these unknown possibilities
It’s all this moving place to place

And who I am today
Isn’t who I’ll be forever
But I’ll always have a dry sense of humor
Always have to say something clever

Baby, sure I’d like to love you always
And I think I’d like to settle down sometime
But I don’t know if I am capable of a quite life
I just get so nervous when things begin to unwind
And I don’t need it see it fall apart completely
To know exactly where this thing will end
Oh and, darling, I think you’re an amazing girl
Only I’m not sure I can handle yet another lover turning into just a friend

Go ahead and love me
If you are willing to love me and understand that

Who I’ll be tomorrow
Isn’t who I plan to stay
Still, I’ll probably always try new things
And I’ll probably always be this way

http://timecapsule.yahoo.com/capsule.php?i=75807&t=you&l=en

Broken From The Fall

2006-10-04T13:38:00.000-07:00

Every minute takes an eternity to pass me by
As if even the seconds are turning to watch me cry
Well here I am, take a long, long look
Take the longest look of them all
Each tear takes me down with it
It’s just fall, after fall
And I am just trying to hold myself together
Just long enough to make something better
Just holding out for better weather

And please don’t meet my eyes
Don’t pretend this was all some huge surprise
‘Cause here we are, take a long, long look
Take the longest look of them all
Each excuse leaves another crack
And we are both broken from this fall
You, with all that you pretend to be
You had to know I’d figure things out eventually
You had to know that it would dawn on me

I really don’t have so many things to pack
Strange how I have no real reason for coming back
This is the end now; take a long, long look
Take the longest look of them all
It’s always one tiny lie that lets others through
And I won’t be standing around waiting for the downfall
I can’t pretend that I don’t know the whole story
I can’t pretend things are as different as they would need to be
And now you are simply you, with out me

What Don't I Miss?

2006-09-29T12:33:00.000-07:00

I miss you.
God, what don’t I miss?
I miss me when I was with you.
I miss laughing until we couldn’t and then crying because our stomach muscles hurt. I long for the time we wasted together. The way neither of us wanted it to end and how when I was convinced that I was the one who needed you – you’d call as soon as I left your house. I hurt for the time when I knew that I would always know you. I miss how happy you made me, even when things were very, tragically, horrifically unhappy. There are times when, briefly, I miss your skin. Nights when, just as I am about to drift off to sleep, I miss you next to me. I miss how, with you, nothing scared me. I, I . . .
I miss wanting you, but not you wanting me. I am glad that you don’t want me, sad and at the same time deeply relieved that you don’t need me anymore.
I hate that in this life I have lost the courage that you helped me find, the spirit that you restored. I am angry because inside myself somewhere I feel like only you can bring it back and yet, I am sure that you no longer can. I loathe being scared of everything and that I am scared of nothing, of air, of thoughts, of possibilities – good or bad. I despise that I am scared of, well, you.
I am terrified of you, of your voice, of your beautiful existence. I have nothing to give; I know that you are someone who will understand when I say that there truly is nothing left. I know that I am not who I was, and that I can no longer be who you would be looking for if you were to look for me. Again and again my day dream memories of us are interrupted with how disappointing things really are, how out of my hands and beyond me. There are very few others who make me feel this way, only one delicate fairy who invokes this feeling with more strength.
When you come near me the most infinitesimal part of me, deep inside, reaches out in evaporating hope, in desperate desire for a life long ago ended. A life cut wretchedly, disastrously short. While that minute ember of hope tries frantically to start a fire the rest of me, my body and mind, goes unbearably cold; withdraws from the conversation, disengages from you. I will never adapt to life without you, I will never stop feeling the break left deep inside. The scar that losing you has left on me will mark me always. I will never live a life in which you are not missed to the point of physical pain. Still, I am not certain if I could continue to exist should I have to lose you continually. I can not endure you fading in and out again and again, like a ghost, like our memories.
You have to see that I am hurting. If this, if all of this and us and the life I miss was ever real. If you ever loved me the way you seemed so scared to say you did, if you knew me better than I knew myself, then you must know that I am hurting. You must be aware, somewhere within yourself, that I am dying inside.

asking too much ~ Ani Difranco

2006-09-29T12:16:00.000-07:00

i want somebody who sees the pointlessness
and still keeps their purpose in mind
i want somebody who has a tortured soul
some of the time
i want somebody who will either put out for me
or put me out of misery
or maybe just put it all to words
and make me go, you know
i never heard it put that way
make me say, what did you just say?
i want somebody who can hold my interest
hold it and never let it fall
someone who can flatten me with a kiss
that hits like a fist
or a sentence, that stops me like a brick wall
if you hear me talking
listen to what i'm not saying
if you hear me playing guitar
listen to what i'm not playing
and don't ask me to put words
to all the silences i wrote
don't ask me to put words
to all the spaces between notes
in fact if you have to ask, forget it
do and you'll regret it
i'm tired of being the interesting one
i'm tired of having fun for two
just lay yourself on the line
and i might lay myself down by you
but don't sit behind your eyes
and wait for me to surprise you
i want somebody who can make me
scream until it's funny
give me a run for my money
i want someone who can
twist me up in knots
tell me, for the woman who has everything
what have you got?
i want someone who's not afraid of me
or anyone else
in other words i want someone
who's not afraid of themself
do you think i'm asking too much?

~ if only, if only, if only....

What?

2006-08-01T13:50:00.000-07:00

we broke up.

You just crushed me, you hurt me. I can't think strait, I can't breathe. Am I relieved, am I just the tiniest bit happy. Freedom is farmiliar, does that make it easier.
How will I look at you, how will I exist like this. How can I push you so far away that it doesn't bother me anymore?

Stop calling, stop asking if I am okay.

Stop caring, you don't have the right anymore.

Where Am I?

2006-08-01T07:40:00.000-07:00

I am disconected, turned of.
I don't want kisses or cuddles.
I am not in love. At least, I don't think I am.
Was I ever? Where does that go? How does it happen?
Just poof.
Suddenly yesterday seems a million lives from now.

MySpace

2006-07-24T11:24:00.000-07:00

I am sorry. I am. As I write this I do so with my proverbial head hung low with shame. I have a new obsession. It’s sick, it’s sick really. Okay, first let me admit that I, who have a heart only for Blogger. Who will always blog, when there is the time and the inspiration. I, who takes this blog very serious, have been MySpace-ing as of late. I’m sorry! Wait its worse! I have become addicted to the wicked train wrecks that are some sorry loser’s life. Reading the rants of randomly found people who use their MySpace page as a Jerry Spring-ish platform to launch white trash attacks on other weirdo drugs-made-me-fuck-my-dog-but-I-keep-doing-it-because-we-are-in-love people. It’s outrageous. I mean, as I have said trying to explain my problem to others, it is like watching a burning building and thinking there is no way someone is still in there alive and then having to stare waiting for them to pull out a body or a flaming almost corpse. I am a MySpace rubber necker. What does that say about me?

www.myspace.com/raejillian

Imaginary Friends

2006-07-20T15:46:00.000-07:00

When I was little (I am not sure what age because it was pre concrete memory, so all I have to go on is wisps of thought and my mom) I had an imaginary friend named Rocking Chair. I would lay on the carpet in the living room and use my toes to move the rocking chair, and then talk as if my friend was there. There were VERY few occasions when Rocking Chair would venture out the living room or far from her chair, but it did happen.
That being said, I have not seen nor heard from Rocking Chair in well over ~ well, at least twenty years. Quite honestly, while I do not believe there are set ages when people become to old for various life experiences, I believe that I, myself, have moved pass the stage where imaginary friends should be an issue.
Only, I do, I have an imaginary friend. Not just the multiple Sonya's who take residence inside my head and fight each other over EVERYTHING like Siamese twins trying to decide which way to go. Oh no, not just them. A real true imaginary friend, one that I neither desire to continue having imaginary conversations with, nor do I call upon when I am lonely.
I can't seem to shake her, her little thoughts, her snide remarks, the way she'd look at me, the things we'd laugh at. (Like in the car when I am picking music or when something makes me smile, I look over and some silly part of me expects to see her in the passenger seat. To hear her fuss baout not taking my eyes off the road.) I can't seem to block my mind from hearing what I think she'd say or imagining the way a day might go with her.
See and here is the other thing, does it count as imaginary if the friend I am imagining is real we just don't talk like once we did? Or does that make it even worse? Because I would love the imaginary Leo to go and the real Leo to come and go as she pleases, but I can't get her out of my world. She's just SO intertwined. She is so a part of my make up I can't wriggle free.
GRRR....

Maybe You Are Right

2006-06-13T10:49:00.000-07:00

Maybe it’s my fault, and then you would be right

I guess you don’t see the poetry I bleed

Quiet noise and silent voice in rhythmic death

I don’t know how to show these parts of me

The pain has no voice and when I try

Only the angry child can speak

She Looks At Me

2006-06-11T09:56:00.000-07:00

She looks at me with reverence, her eyes truly taking me in from the back seat. I am singing Rockabye by Ani Difranco. She asked me to play it when we first got in the car, she requested it be repeated and then told me it was okay to sing it; she knew I liked the song. She smiles slightly as I sing, drumming lightly on the steering wheel. I catch her watching me in the rear view mirror and my heart breaks. There is so much love and understanding, I truly do not know how she is capable of that, I was not really aware that I was. She watched the way I do her, wanting to memorize and keep every moment. It makes my skin cold and my chest hurt. I am not ready to be seen like this, I do not want her to memorize me now. I am not the person I wanted her to see, I still feel lost and broken. I am still the failure I was before, not the strong and brave woman I wanted her mother to be. Then I realized that while I am not ready this is the time and that I can not hide from her as I do every other person I know or love. Only, how do I let her know me, when I am not sure who I am. How do I express my love when nothing is or ever will be good ~ any where NEAR ~ good enough?

Someone Who

2006-05-25T14:55:00.000-07:00

I hate how the radio plays those songs
The ones that make me miss you the most
I despise knowing reality is that if not with you
I’ll spend forever with your ghost
I wish my heart was not made of paper
That it would not bend and tear with such ease
What I wouldn’t give for you to see me exposed
To understand this is me on my knees
You say I seem so firmly set where I am
Un-giving, unmoving, simply and completely unyielding
If you could only see what’s on my inside you’d see
Outside appearance is not always what I am feeling
You ask what I want and it seems so childish to think
I want someone to hold on with all their might
Someone who will love me and make me stay
Someone who’ll never leave and thinks I am worth the fight
I need someone who will look at me
And without hesitation know when I am in pain
Someone who can make I all better
With out my ever having to explain
Someone who knows me better and better each day
Who wont let hurt alone even when I put up a strong front
Who will hold me still and stop me
When I am a kicking, screaming, raging cunt
Maybe it’s unfair of me to expect all this from you
When I myself don’t have very much to give
Only a few elaborate phrases, poetry, art work
And this ridiculously decorated world in which I live
I know that I may come off as demanding
And often you feel those demands are unjust
There is a reason to most everything I ask of you
And I promise, baby, I am someone you can trust

Who I Am

2006-05-16T19:40:00.000-07:00

I climb into my car, extraordinarily clean for me, and glow with internal pride.
I tie my shoes and smile just because I know how to tie them and make them stay tied.
I dance and play and know that I am free.
I rock out to music as if I am the singer, guitar player AND the drummer all at once.
I say what I mean, with out apology.
I can pack my cigarettes pretty good, and I flip two luckies.
I am who I am.
I am who I like to be.
I am who I am, only I feel like I am losing little bits of me.
Like I put them down to deal with this or that and when I move on again, I don't realize until it's too late, but have left something.
Something so small I am not even sure what it is, but sure enough it's gone.
Lost, no, stolen. Trashed, burned ~ destroyed.
I want it to stop. I want her to come back and help me put everything the way I liked it. I hope she remembers where everything was, I hope that on her way home she stops all the places I did. I hope she looks around and sees the fragments of me. I hope she picks them up and keeps them in her pockets so that when she gets here she can use my nail glue and we can fix me again.
After all soul mates are the people who refill, give life, return what the world and other take from you over time. And one thing we saw eye to eye on was that our souls were OH SO VERY MUCH a part of each others.

"You Are In Love With Someone Else."

2006-05-16T12:01:00.000-07:00

I miss Leo.
"You never stopped."
What?
"You never stopped missing her."
It's so much worse now, I just feel... She knew me, she just got me, no misunderstanding, no anger... Now I feel so alone. Even when I am here with you I just feel so, so alone.

A silence fills the space between us, a silence as clear and soft as our tears. I wonder if the lack of sound would taste salty, and I want to lean over her broken heart and lick her tears with the very tip of my tongue. Smoke curls, thin and green and dry, around our bodies, hers dressed in loose pajamas and mine only a short tee shirt. I've never been aware of being naked with her, but now I reach over and pull the cover over my lap.

So, now... Well, what are we?
"You can't say you want to break up and then ask me like it's my choice."
I mean, do you want to be with me? Still, like this?
"No, there is someone better for you."
What? Who?
"The person you've drawn your whole life, the one you write and dream about. The one who knows you like no one else ever will."
She is my best friend, you can't use that against me.
"Best friends make the best lovers."
I don't even have her anymore, we don't even speak.
"She will be back. You two will find each other. You were made to be with each other."
You don't want to be with me because I slept with my best friend.
"I don't want to be with you because you are in love with someone else."
~I open my mouth to object, to deny. I can't. I can't even breathe. I am in love with her and I feel sometimes like it hurts so bad I may double over.~
I do, love her. I never said I didn't or that I wouldn't. I love her that is just how it is.

A.D. ~ a dream

2006-05-14T21:39:00.000-07:00

I can't believe I am this close to her. I CAN NOT believe it. I blink twice and move to pinch myself, then the thought that if this is a dream I would rather not wake myself stops me. She is more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. Her smell is heavy and sweet, like girl and grass and fire and winter all tangled together. Her skin is so clean I * I could taste it.
When she speaks it is with a goofy self awareness, so sure she seems unsure. I wonder if she can tell I am in love with her. I wonder if her heart and lungs and internal organs can feel me the way mine feel her.
She leans a little to sing and with her voice comes angels, tiny doves, miracles. All just fall from her lips, glistening in spit and honey. She moves like shamans, like Indians calling the rain with their shaking, sweating, beautiful brown bodies. She cries out soft as a woman tucking in a child with a lullaby, but still a cry.
I scoop up the angels and the doves and the miracles and I beg her to let me take what it is that brings forth her tears, I promise that I will keep her safe and she looks as if she may let me. She falls into my chest, sags there against me, weakness drips from her and makes a puddle on the floor. Only a moment she lets me hold her, only a brief fleeting second in the history of this earth. Then she straightens herself and shakes her head. I am not the angel she is I cannot possible take from her what she takes from the earth and hold through each night just to keep us safe from ourselves.

The Color Quiz

2006-05-11T16:31:00.000-07:00

Your Existing Situation
Dissatisfied. The need to escape continued involvement with her present circumstances makes it imperative for her to find some solution.

Your Stress Sources
Feels unappreciated and finds the existing situation disagreeable. Wants personal recognition and the esteem of others to compensate for the lack of like-minded people with whom to ally herself and make herself more secure. Her sensual self-restraint makes it difficult for her to give herself, but the resulting isolation leads to the urge to surrender and merge with another. This disturbs her as she regards such instincts as weaknesses to be overcome; only by not succumbing to them, she feels, can she withstand the difficulties of the situation. Wants to be valued as a desirable associate and admired for her personal qualities.

Your Restrained Characteristics
Feels that she is receiving less than her share and that there is no one on who she can rely for sympathy and understanding. Pent-up emotions make her quick to take offense, but she realizes that she has to make the best of things as they are.
Wants to broaden her fields of activity and insists that her hopes and ideas are realistic. Distressed by the fear that she may be prevented from doing what she wants; needs both peaceful conditions and quiet reassurance to restore her confidence.

Your Desired Objective
Urgently in need of rest, relaxation, peace, and affectionate understanding. Feels she has been treated with a lack of consideration and is upset and agitated as a result. Regards her situation as intolerable as long as her requirements are not complied with.

Your Actual Problem
Wants to be valued and respected, and seeks this from a close and peaceful association of mutual esteem.

Your Actual Problem #2
Depleted vitality has created an intolerance for any further stimulation, or demands on her resources. A feeling of powerlessness subjects her to agitation and acute distress. Tries to escape from this by relinquishing the struggle, and by finding peaceful and restful conditions in which to recuperate in an atmosphere of affection and security. (That is what I thought she was.)

It is all INSANE, it's so right.

colorquiz.com

How Would You Be Defined?

2006-05-11T16:15:00.000-07:00

Rae --
[noun]:
A master of storytelling

Amber --
[noun]:
A person who has the ability to be invisible

Melissa --
[noun]:
A person who is constantly high

Ron --
[noun]:
A lewd street performer

Gina --
[noun]:
A hard-core grave robber

(I did all my friends name, some are REALLY dumb. I posted only those that made some kind of sense.)

'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com

Could You Still

2006-05-10T16:04:00.000-07:00

My chest hurts, like I've smoked too many cigarettes. My body has that alien feeling of heavy anxiety. I've bitten up my lips and my fingernails are chewed down to the quick. I haven't been very okay, lately, I mean. I have, but not really. Not on the inside, not in my head. I know you know what I mean; I know you can tell just to look at me. You always could.
Could you still?
She says to me that the sex we have blows her mind. She says to imagine the most beautiful, perfect goddess, then imagine that goddess allowing you to touch her, to make love to her, imagine that goddess also touching back. I smile softly and she says that that is what our sex is to her. I think to myself, I don't need to imagine. I have those memories....
I like that I never had to explain. I like that I didn't need to break down. You just took it from me, even if I with held. Even as I was unable. You'd cast one sideways look at me and you took what hurt, what didn't make sense. You untangled my mess of internal confussion. Oh, hey, by the way ~ thank you.

Because She Gave Me...

2006-05-04T10:39:00.000-07:00

ani...
dancing...
music...
muse...
art...
self discovery...
understanding...
Myself...
...I love her.

Spanish Doll ~ POE (Somewhat Edited)

2006-05-03T16:27:00.000-07:00

This place feels so unfamiliar
And yet I know it well
I think I used to belong here
But the only way I can tell
Is that I miss you still
And I cannot find you here
You left me tattered and torn
Just like that spanish doll
I went down to the alley way
And found that you were gone
(if you had never left)
You left no word no message
I still don’t know what went wrong
(tears)
But now no matter where I go
I always seem to return
(find me)
To where you left me tattered and torn
(I am torn my sweet doll)
A memory guilded in red and gold
(of gold also pain)
Beauty guarded and never sold
(protect me)
I keep it with me wherever I go
And I love you still
No matter how a story will unfold
(remember me)
You know I always will
Have part of you here
A stranger in this world without you
Is all that I can ever be
All I know that’s pure and clear
You left it with me here

Haunting Me

2006-05-03T13:39:00.000-07:00

I want to go home, I want to go home…
My hands cover my face ~ deep, musty-moldy-Katrina-cough breath. When I look up things are different, but no better. Always different ~ never different. I try to focus but every time I move my eyes the picture pixilates, comes loose over a dark background and takes a moment ~ or two ~ to gather itself into a picture again… Why is that? Oh, God, how long have I been awake? Everything around me is dead, but then a house is never alive ~ is it? It all seems to have the charred look of fire wood, only there were no flame.
I want to go home, I want to go home…
I sit on a piece of wood, feel the moisture creep through my jeans, curse the fact that my ass will have a damp feeling the rest of the day. My life will have this damp feeling… I haven’t heard anything in a while. I wonder if the sound is in fragments waiting to sort itself and be heard, the way my visions have been. Audio pointillism. Find myself wondering if memories make noise as they drown, if ghost struggle when flood waters rise. Then momentarily I think that I could be a ghost, haunting this place. It feels that way. Or, maybe, this place is haunting me…
I just want to go home.

http://timecapsule.yahoo.com/capsule.php?i=75723&t=sorrow&l=en
(You have to enlarge to see the complete entry - not that you all need to worry, you have the whole entry here. I would like you to comment though!)

It's The Wind

2006-05-03T13:09:00.000-07:00

Feel that? It’s the wind,
and it’s pulling me.
Moving me again.
I’m sorry I ~ I thought we were safe.
But oh, oh God how long has it been?
Wait, please. Let me explain,
I never meant to damage you darling.
Can you forgive all this pain?
I truly believed I could stay here.
But then ~ then with the wind came the rain.
I love you and I promise ~ I promise I care,
only, inside I am empty.
Look for yourself, nothings there.
I don’t know how to be different, but if I did,
I would, I swear.
Feel that? It’s the wind,
and it’s killing me.
A growing rage within.
I am holding on, but I feel it.
Soon the tears will begin.
I’ll hurt you, I will.
And I will hate myself for it,
Blind and aimless I’ll go for the kill.
With out control I’ll continue,
until the anger inside is quiet and still.
It’s not who I am, it’s who I have been.
It’s not what I want,
it’s not for the win.
It’s an internal fury ~ my black, black storm.
Feel that? It’s the wind.
(And I am sorry.)

Ani DiFranco ~ Ani MOTHERFUCKING-COOLEST-CHICK-FUCKING-EVER-EVER DiFranco

2006-04-29T10:20:00.000-07:00

Ani Difranco was at the Jazz Fest, opening day. She was, aside from beyond words, AWESOME. The weather was beautiful; the day had been great, surreal almost. During Cowboy Mouth we casually made our way to the front barricade and there I rocked out when she took the stage thirty minutes later. Elation was hard to suppress, except, seeing her, hearing some of her lyrics, memories rushed back and I admit, God how I missed you. I * you were there, even if not with me. I * you were there.

Faith & Hope

2006-04-22T12:13:00.000-07:00

At what point does heroic faith become sad denial? Where is the thinly sprinkled line of non-existence which separates heart-felt belief from blind ignorance? What a dangerous concept, faith.

Sadness

2006-04-17T14:19:00.000-07:00

My cousin tried to kill himself this weekend, he's fifteen and it's the second time.
I wonder if his sadness is the same as mine.
I wonder if he knows all I know and sees a limited choice of solutions, as I often do.
It occurs to me that he is braver than I, I find myself a little envious.
I hope he knows I love him, he is my beautiful baby goth teenage perfection.
I hope he knows I love him.

Fuck Me

2006-04-01T12:55:00.000-08:00

I don’t care. I don’t have a heart. I am insensitive, I am hateful, and I am a waste. Or is it that I am wasted? I am hurt; I guess it could be why I am hurting you. Hold on to me, I’m getting lost again, wait… I can not be held down. I’m not the one who is spinning, it must be the world; right now I feel like I am the only one who is standing still. I don’t care. I don’t have a heart. I am insensitive, I am hateful, and I am a waste. Or is it that I am wasted? I am hurt; I guess it could be why I am hurting you. Hold on to me, I’m getting lost again, wait… I can not be held down. I’m not the one who is spinning, it must be the world; right now I feel like I am the only one who is standing still. I don’t care. I don’t have a heart. I am insensitive, I am hateful, and I am a waste. Or is it that I am wasted? I am hurt; I guess it could be why I am hurting you. Hold on to me, I’m getting lost again, wait… I can not be held down. I’m not the one who is spinning, it must be the world; right now I feel like I am the only one who is standing still. I don’t care. I don’t have a heart. I am insensitive, I am hateful, and I am a waste. Or is it that I am wasted? I am hurt; I guess it could be why I am hurting you. Hold on to me, I’m getting lost again, wait… I can not be held down. I’m not the one who is spinning, it must be the world; right now I feel like I am the only one who is standing still. I don’t care. I don’t have a heart. I am insensitive, I am hateful, and I am a waste. Or is it that I am wasted? I am hurt; I guess it could be why I am hurting you. Hold on to me, I’m getting lost again, wait… I can not be held down. I’m not the one who is spinning, it must be the world; right now I feel like I am the only one who is standing still. I don’t care. I don’t have a heart. I am insensitive, I am hateful, and I am a waste. Or is it that I am wasted? I am hurt; I guess it could be why I am hurting you. Hold on to me, I’m getting lost again, wait… I can not be held down. I’m not the one who is spinning, it must be the world; right now I feel like I am the only one who is standing still. Like I can not move, like I am frozen. Like this is not my life and I may never wake up.

Uninvited 3/22/06

2006-03-27T07:19:00.000-08:00

Like anyone would be

I am flattered by your fascination with me

Like any hot-blooded woman

I have simply wanted an object to crave

But you, you're not allowed

You're uninvited

An unfortunate slight

Must be strangely exciting

To watch the stoic squirm

Must be somewhat heartening

To watch shepherd need shepherd

But you you're not allowed

You're uninvited

An unfortunate slight

Like any uncharted territory

I must seem greatly intriguing

You speak of my love like

You have experienced love like mine before

But this is not allowed

You're uninvited

An unfortunate slight

I don't think you unworthy

I need a moment to deliberate

* * * Truly amazing, a gift, a mother fucking ROCK star! Who fucking better to permanently wear my fucking art!!! * * *

DJ Gage ~ The Super-Cool Be-Bopping Baby-Dyke DJ

2006-03-09T07:48:00.000-08:00

She sees me walking across the empty club's dance floor. She watches as I climb the stairs to the DJ booth. She pushes her head phones down around her thin neck, slightly messing up her short hair.
I peak over the booths high door.
Hi.
Hi.
Look, I know it's not very popular and I know it's early, but do you think so Techno could be played.
What would you like?
In A Dream.
That's a classic.
Yeah, it's my fav.
Might take me a while to find, what would you like if I don't have it?
Anything trance-y with chick vocals.
Okay.
Thanks, what's your name?
Brandy, um -- DJ Gage.
Brandy. DJ Gage.
I smile and she nods and smiles.
For the next hour and a half some of the coolest trance-y chick vocal music rocks my body. As I dance I notice her dance up above me in the DJ booth. She is like an angel, she reminds me of my lost angel, lion-god.

Dreams of You

2006-03-08T09:39:00.000-08:00

Dreams of you kiss my lips ~ plush and full and wet like hot wild exotic forest. My skin burns with your sweat and calls out in the language of fairy and mermaid.
Inside my chest a deep red flower grows, opens its heart, blooms untamed ~ vines and leaves and dew dampened softness. It is as if I can not breathe for there is no room, my chest is is full ~ your flower within me. Could I die this way? Could I truly care so much for you that it may kill me?
I reach out to you ~ small and spent ~ curled and sleeping beside me where you collapsed on the bed. I reach out to stroke your amazing face, touch your golden god skin. My fingers pass through you ~ as you are merely a memory turned dream-lover-best-friend-lost-soul-mate-broken-beauty, my lion with angel wings. My beautiful flower shrinks away and buries its self in the hollow ache of my stomach, a breath of sand paper and chewed finger nails rushes into me bringing burning salt grain tears that scratch as the pool and fall from my eyes.
Your green eyes open ~ green the color of stars and energy and heaven ~ green the color of ecstasy. Green that holds on to me and knows who I am even when I do not. You haven't spoken out loud. Dream-lovers-best-friends-lost-soul-mates-broken-beauties do not speak, lions with angel wings do not speak, mirages do not speak. Still, my soul hears your voice as if it were a whisper ~ so close to my ear I could feel it.
I do. I feel it. I feel you. I feel you when I dream, even when I am awake sometimes. Many times. I feel you as if you were music or rain. I feel you in my bones, on my skin, hand in hair, shoulder to shoulder, under the stars. I feel your radiant sunlight when I dance. I feel your smile when I laugh.
I * I could give you the letters I write, the dreams I have at times. I * I could give you art in hand made envelopes. You are still my muse, and ~ I miss you.

You Are So Far Away

2006-02-21T21:27:00.000-08:00

A tear slides down my cheek, cold and slow. I feel it wet my hair and realize I am not dreaming as I thought that I was. No, the images I watch play on the pitch black movie screen of my bed room. Her, lying in bed next to me. Our faces so close I feel her breath. My hand tracing her delicate features, drifting down her beautiful neck. Leaning in to kiss the dip of her colar bone when my fingertips pause there, moving down her shoulder to her hand. touching each finger tip and then running my own back up her stomache over her chest and starting all over again. I used to spend hours with her this way.
"Hmmm, your hands feel so good. You are so good to me." Her voice as real as if she were with me, as if I were truly in a dream.

It's No Easier

2006-01-22T19:39:00.000-08:00

Nine green glass portraits of Jesus and his mother are hot glued to tin foil and then mounted to a blue wooded cross. Forgive me, Father, for I have. . . A box of Sharpie markers, fine tips and broad tips, every color of the pride rainbow (redorangeyellowgreenbluepurple; non-stop, all one word, all six colors become one unified idea) and of the real rainbow (ROY G. BIV; Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo and Violet) and even some colors which are not found naturally. A blue Sony cybershot digital camera, whose charger hanges from it like a sick eletrical vine growing. At night I watch and re-watch my life as if it is being veiwed through the little, key hole, window of my camera. Play and re-play the small clips of video and pictures I took, thinking as I fall to sleep that I might escape this pattern of pointless self-tourture if I move the camera out of sight. I never do, because as much as it hurts to hold on, I can't even begin to imagine EVER letting go! A tiny picture of Bellerina in green velvet and almost translucent fairy wings, smiling with an impish glee. A ratty black terry cloth wrist band with three metal stars painted red. Past star, present star, oh and, yes, future star. . . I have a bruise on the palm of my left hand, right under my pointer finger, small and bright pinkish-red. I have a slightly purple-y one that seems more under the skin than most bruises on the tip of my nose, I can help but wonder if it will bloom darker as the days go.
Honestly, can I speak honestly for a moment? Is honestly something I am capable of at all? Can I be, when I am not sure if I was ever honest to myself?
How about, as honestly as I am able to speak?
I don't know who I am any more. I don't know the last time I did. I haven't slept in days, the burning dryness of my eyes and the disorienting glare over everything is almost comforting. One of the few things that seems an awful lot like going home. When everyone knows home no longer exist, home is no longer an option. I can't sleep because she came in to visit arround Christmas time and ever since she left my dreams are alive again. Dreams where I live a life in which there was no storm, nothing has changed other than the slow churning of life and I HATE to wake up because I lose my breath again having to realize I am 83 miles from my torn and bleeding life. 83 miles and a life time.

We Are Dying

2006-01-19T23:20:00.000-08:00

Pressed against me, she holds on with both hands. It’s not like her to hold on that way, not like her to be so openly needed. When I had first walked up she was so cool, so casually detached. I wondered over it for only one moment and then...
Music and bad country singing, “Do you need another drink, baby?” It is as if our life is not SO very different, it is as if I have not lost her. I laugh and I notice her notice and smile at me, I sing along dramatically and I see her in the corner of my eyes. She watches as my mouth follows the words, she mouths them also and when I meet her eyes, once again, she smiles.
Hello, smile. There you are, oh my dear, dear God how I have missed you.
We leave feeling buzzed and in the end wind up sitting in a garage, listening to the radio and talking. It’s not our garage, not our little blue, shitty radio, not our lives anymore. But we are there, together for the first time in, for the first time in three months and twenty-three days. We are together where we were always suppost to stay, together. And when I ask what time it is and she coughs back a breath before answering, “5:15.” it breaks my heart to tell her good bye. I can’t.
I can’t just walk away from her, I love her. She is part of myself and I miss her SO much it burns me and I hurt with it.
Then I get up and start to walk away and she says, “Hey?”
“Yeah?” I turn back to her, hoping that my hurt is not so very clear. It always is to her, I am part of her.
I wasn’t prepared for her eyes to hold tears, I wasn’t ready for her bottom lip to tremble so slightly. It’s killing her just as it is killing me. “I - I,” a deep breath, “I miss you, I am going to call more and I will come home soon as I can and I will talk to you soon, I miss you!” A rush of words and then she is pressed against me, she holds me with both hands...

Hi

2005-10-08T17:12:00.000-07:00

Your kisses are blown glass memories. Beautiful and delicate. Your smile, I look away from, breathes new life here and I am so grateful. There is this rush inside of my chest and I am overwhelmed with you and this awe of you. AMAZING. WONDERFUL.
AWESOME.

"Ogers Have Layers"

2005-09-28T15:22:00.000-07:00

I kept my head down when I said it, she had asked me to repeat myself. With tears in my eyes and a voice that burned I said it again, "I am an onion."
It was months ago, still I remember her eyes as if she was in front of me today. "What?"
"An onion. Dead and dried, under the layers are more layers and in the middle, should anyone get there, nothing." I started to cry, it felt so real and so much bigger than me. It hurt. Worn and thin, papery and broken. Keep peeling and soon the world will see. The greatest disappointment, the nothing.
Months later I met Her and she said, in the bar that first night using some strange accent with a weird voice, "Ogers have layers."
I have no idea what it meant, a reference to Shrek and how ogers are like onions in that they both have layers, once again and quite suddenly I thought, "I am an onion." Only this time it didn't seem so very bad.

Narcissistic

2005-09-28T13:52:00.000-07:00

Main Entry: nar·cis·sism
Pronunciation: 'när-s&-"si-z&m
Function: noun
Etymology: German
Narzissismus, from Narziss Narcissus, from Latin Narcissus
1 : EGOISM, EGOCENTRISM 2 : love of or sexual desire for one's own body- nar·cis·sist /'när-s&-sist/ noun or adjective- nar·cis·sis·tic /"när-s&-'sis-tik/ adjective

Hmmm...

"It's okay, God..."

2005-09-20T11:21:00.000-07:00

I sat there and watched with my estranged aunt and an attractive older black man from Covington as it became clear that Katrina would in fact hit home. With only minute deviances from The Worst Case Scenario hurricane Katrina would shred New Orleans in a way that no person, however capable their imagination, could ever had conjured up in their mind. As Sunday crept away and Monday angrily arrived there was no longer the holding your breath and praying to God for a 'bobble' or 'jump' or 'unexplainable 90 degree turn' to save us as they had in the past. The thought in my head as people slowly woke up and joined us was simply, "It had to be our turn someday." And as everyone complained about how unfair life was all I heard was how the secretly wanted others to suffer. The lobby was full and the beginning of the longest time in my life ~ a time not yet over ~ started to roll. I was homeless, jobless, possession less. I had no past and no reality. I looked at myself in the mirror, wearing the clothes I had been in for over twenty-four hours. The clothes that smelled like smoke and girl from the night out just before. I was wearing all I had brought with me and as the electric drugs of my last night out wore on I said a prayer.
"Please, God, four coffee mugs."
It was a prayer that I had repeated again, and again. Art ~ lost. Writings ~ lost. Poems ~ Lost. Home ~ destroyed. Work ~ stolen. Friends ~ far away. Life ~ heart wrenchingly still wearing on, slow and ugly and so, so very sad.
After hearing the conditions, after talking to those who stayed, or some how went back the prayer changed.
"Please, God, one coffee mug."

yesterday at 9:17 am
Slowly the truck rolled down my street, each home looking eerily normal. The knowledge that though this little town of mud covered homes looked as if it could be saved. Washed and painted and smiley-faced we could all come home, that was just so horrifically far from true. Each little home still and dead and then mine. Mine: twisted and taken from it's foundation. Mine: broken, fundamentally. And I said a different prayer.
"It's okay, God, they were just coffee mugs. I know."
The front door wouldn't open because the cedar block piers had come up through the floor right behind it. When the back door opened finally, hanging ~ perfect as the only proof that some where inside of me was this domestically challenged girl who was really ready to try ~ hanging still and beautiful in a way which would make Martha proud ~ my four coffee cups.

"It's okay, RaeJillian, they were just coffee mugs. I know."

- A rainbow feather boa, a binder full of art sketches, the whole set of dishes to which the coffee mugs belonged, an Indian statue, jewelry, my clock (still telling the right time.) I walked away with more than most and more than I hoped.

Your Kiss ~ This is weird

2005-09-16T11:23:00.000-07:00

Do you think you could tell me the truth? We've only just met and if you can't be honest now, when?
Do you think you could hurt me? I am a virtual stranger to whom you owe nothing and if you can't give it to me now, will you ever?
I don't understand and it's making me crazy.

AMBER

2005-09-15T20:22:00.000-07:00

Main Entry: 1 am·ber
Pronunciation: 'am-b&r
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English ambre, from Middle French, from Medieval Latin ambra, from
Arabic 'anbar ambergris
1 : a hard yellowish to brownish translucent fossil resin that takes a fine polish and is used chiefly in making ornamental objects (as beads)
2 : a variable color averaging a dark orange yellow

Main Entry: 2 amber
Function: adjective
1 : consisting of amber
2 : resembling amber; especially : having the color amber

My Main Entry: 1 Amber
Function: Hopefully we'll see
Etymology: Met at Toxic night before the end of the world
1 : Cute, but something more. This girl sparkles.
2 : Gemini, yet still comfortable.
3 : Kisses like NO other! BITES BACK!

A Leo, I Need A Leo ~ It's Hysterical

2005-09-09T11:26:00.000-07:00

Rae, the best Zodiac Match for your personality is Leo

Leo, the Lion (July 23 to August 22): This generous and faithful partner is just your type. Initially, a Leo may catch your eye with their outgoing ways and flamboyant personal presence. But as you get to know them, you're even more likely to be drawn to your Leo's strength and loyalty. Be aware, people born under this sign are known for seeking pleasure at every turn. Typically, they aren't afraid to take risks to get what they want. This can-do, forceful nature can make Leos seem a bit domineering at times. However, a Leo partner will also usually be very willing to work through any problems that arise between the two of you. In the bedroom, you'll likely find the Lion to be a romantic lover with an ample sex drive. This is just another aspect of their love for life, attention, and fun.

Thanks a lot, tickel.com

My, my . . .

2005-08-31T13:03:00.000-07:00

My father is still in that water logged city, he is scared and alone. He sounds good when we can get through to him, only I hear beyond his voice.
My Leo is too far for comfort, in the mountains of Tennessee. She drifts from sad to stoned and back again, she needs me and wants me. I know, and that knowledge is killing me.
My friends have scattered like dried leaves taking flight on a fall wind. Lost and far away, causing me to feel the same way. I can not breathe.
My drugs are wet and in the deep swamp that was my no-longer-lover-always-very-best-friend Leo's home, all but the joint which was given to me in the lobby today, Courtney ~ she deserves her own blog entry and will get one in time. Down the line, somewhere.
My home, having been mine for 39 days, is gone. My grandmothers furniture, my eclectic blend of friends and gifts and small purchases. Myself. My brief history.

My Normal

2005-08-31T13:01:00.000-07:00

The teacher has the engineer, and I do not know if she has ever been so grateful to hold him. Thug life has his ghetto queen, the kisses there are God sent. Every where I look there are couples, their lives destroyed and their identities crushed yet in each other a piece of that life exist. Between them at night in the warmth of their skin there is the essence and the possibility. The reality which will be resurrected. A part of the self that will heal. This tiny bit of normal. Normal.
Where is mine? Spread across the nation getting further from home. Talking about how they will not come back and they will not be in danger again. My non-family, my friends who are my heart. The tiny bits which created this blog and the perfect special bits that are my smile.
I threw a fit for my wrist band Saturday night. Insisting that it was what I needed to dance. I have worn it every single day after, three metal stars as my normal. Past ~ star. Present ~ star.
Future ~ star.
I love you all, I love you. I love and miss you. I love you and I feel like I am dying.

Disaster # 1603 LA HURRICANE KATRINA

2005-08-31T12:14:00.000-07:00

I feel lost. Like a child left behind. I know that I am lucky to be alive, to be trapped hundreds of miles from the flood lands of a city who was part of who I am. I know that Life is what is important. I know, still I see the pictures of the small island roof tops as they are slowly swallowed and I can’t help but feel as if I am a ghost. A shell. Fading memory. I think of all that I held so important and hate myself for leaving with only the clothes on my back. WHY? Why not grab the sweet fairies pictures? Why not save the paper wings of my angel and all the art work they gave this world? Why not take something to remind me, something to show, some sort of proof. My empty hands hold no validation, no explanation of this loss. I am so scared to sleep, or look away. I am scared I will forget, as I am forgotten. Erased with no evidence, no fossils to tell the story. Washed away.
I feel forgotten.

For a picture of my general area you may go to: http://w5omr.shacknet.nu:81/~w5omr/new_orleans/omg.jpg
New Orleans Mayor, "minimum hundreds more likely thousands" dead.
MANY bodies in the water, many more dead in attics.
Biloxi ~ My Scorpio ~ I love you! Do you hear me? I love you ~ 90 % of buildings gone. PLEASE BE SAFE!
For more info. on what is going on in the place of my home and the homes of my family and friends you can also visit: www.nola.com

You Are Holding Back

2005-08-23T17:17:00.000-07:00

Give it to her, love
Hold no part of yourself back
Lay it on her shoulders
Show her your world of black
Lower your weight until she hurts
Let it cause her muscles to strain
Without fear open and fall upon her
She will drown with your rain
There will be no one who stays as I do
In weakness giving strength
No other holding onto each small piece
As they are tested to great length
Don't take my word, darling
I am sure with time you will see
They cannot understand your dark side
Nor will they love you and your need to be free

When Will You Hear Me

2005-08-19T11:17:00.000-07:00

Wait. Please, please, I can't feel my life. I lost my breath.
Wait?
Yes, wait. I need ~ I need a moment. I have to find myself; I have to remind myself who I was before you.
You're not okay, are you?
I'm fine. Fine, fine, fine. Dust where cool liquid tears should be and I, I am fine.
Fine, like when I say that things are cool. That's what fine means. What's wrong?

No, I am fine. I'm fine. Just wait a second. It's such a small thing to ask, a tiny itty-bitty second.

You know you can talk to me, right?

I know, babe, nothing to say. For words are never what I need them to be, they are weak and without credit.

You know I appreciate you?

*Painful smile and small laugh* I know. I do, it's why I am beside you. Always.

Is it your heart?

*Another weak smile* No, I feel great ~ good, at least. My heart? My heart is dead, hung with the roses to dry. To be kept as a dark and brittle reminder of the girl I once would have sworn you were.

Quiet, she is uncomfortable.

For the first time ever,

I see her insecurities.

To a degree, they mirror my own.

Hey, hey?

What?

You have to know that I love you.

*Nod, because the burn in my throat is spreading and I cannot talk around it* I know, that's why I am always where you need me. Always where you can find me ~ should you look. Always what you need me to be. Always here. Eternally. Always.

Her arm around me,

her smell,

her memories ~ our ~

mixing with the her of my present.

*Half-hugging her back as we stand there drunk and slightly sway* What I don't get is how I hear your whisper through the violent storm, I feel your pain in my own flesh, see your face in my sleep, read your thought, that forever I am what you need, finishing your sentences. How is it that I am your completion, as sure as you are my angel. Souls which would not thrive with out their twin, and this is all true. How then is it that you don't hear what it is I really need you to know that I am saying?

I Will Never Understand

2005-08-16T10:39:00.000-07:00

“This girl is killing me.” She says. “I wish you could begin to understand.”

I never look up, in front of me I envision the anthology of deaths I have died over the last few months, I can see, in detail, the collection of beautiful, scroll-handled knives I have had to remove from my heart. Each lovely talon-sharp blade having been placed there by her, the girl who wishes I could begin to understand.

She looks over at me and her green eyes burn hot, I haven’t seen that flame in some time. “You don’t have to say anything, Rae. I know that you get me. It’s just hard because this girl does something to me. I want it to work because she is, like perfect, for me. I already told everyone this was it, and you know I hate looking like - well, it's a pride thing. You know."

I nod, but on the inside there is a sinister growl. I will not say anything but she is wrong. I don't know and I don’t get this. This, this RIDICULOUS lack of good judgment, this foolishly acting blind, this eternal pining for that which is hideously undeserving and perhaps more insulting unaware how undeserving it is! Disgust is seeping in through the wounds that her marvelous daggers left inside of me. Impatience begins to breathe with me and I feel myself laughing a little deeper in my belly.

I was once such an ignorant girl, I was once so wrong. She was once extraordinarily blessed to have me see her that way, she is now the extreme ignorance ~ unaware that each evening she becomes less able to reclaim her god-like stature.

The lion's luck dwindles, cosmic mistakes are slowly corrected.

Sweet, Foolish Anonymous

2005-08-15T12:56:00.000-07:00

I take your dear empty face in pallid hand, lean in and whisper that which I hate. The secret truth I know, yet fight. Heart breaking is my truth, which in the end cannot be escaped. My lips so close they give dry kisses as I softly speak:
Deep as the ocean but void of all life.
Soulful as an African chant creating great sadness and painful longing.
Emotions that shine as striking as shards of glass ~ every bit as cold and fatal as light reflecting and attractive.
Words, which are wet with sparkles the way dark eyes are ~ glittering blackness too sinister to be something kind, too beautiful to be anything ghastly. Words that draw them in ~ enchanting, seducing, entrapping. Spellbinding words with no meat, no essence, no actual power ~ paper-thin and a great deal more insubstantial. Words thrown up into the air like a fire’s embers and smoke curling, crackling along with the witches curse. I can use them as paints and make with them a lovely world; I can dance them as if they were puppets and create a wonderful story. This gift of prose is my cross for as I can give you the sight and touch of a succulent peach, its soft velvet skin tearing to reveal its sugary torn flesh, take one bite and you, as every other, will find there is no excess of juices pouring down your throat, no taste at all ~ nothing here is real.

The truth: I am not real.

Should I find the one who will mean everything, the deserving love who will bring back life with her kiss, who will deliver me to heaven again and again ~ dear God, should I finally have that girl it will be I who is undeserving, my words which will never be what they need to be.

Where Am I?

2005-08-06T18:30:00.000-07:00

Where am I?
Preocuppied, desolate, lost, drifting ~ or am I drowning ~ where am I?
I was feeling so much better. SO, SO, SO MUCH BETTER! It's as if I had found the tiny crystal heart, pink and made of crackled glass. As if I picked it up and went to tuck it gently into a safe place, satin lined velvet tarot bag inside an oak box, beautifully carved, polished and stained. Just before I let it fall into its perfect place I tripped and dropped it. Slow, chopped motion, images with interference and loss of focus. I watch it fall to the ground. It hasn't shattered yet but I am just watching in still motion as it falls.
I came home from work yesterday and fell asleep. At 6:30 in the evening I was SLEEPING. What??? I sept until eight this morning. ELEVEN AND A HALF HOURS! I inadvertently stood a friend up. That makes me feel like shit. I got home from work today and slept again until just now, eight hours and forty-five minutes! WHAT IS THIS? I wake up and want to sleep again, I feel worse every minute I am awake! I want to sleep forever.
I have been feeling like shit forever, it seems. I feel like shit now.
I am about to go back to bed, to stand up a sort of 'friend' and pretend I am dead.

20Q

2005-08-03T11:46:00.000-07:00

He’s a little less that three inches around, plastic the color blue-purple that makes it hard to tell what color he really is. His face is a LCD screen with four buttons underneath, your four options: unknown, no, yes, sometimes. He starts the same way every time, “Is it an… Animal? Vegetable? Mineral? Other?” Now, this beginning counts as one question and it doesn’t really makes much sense, of COURSE if it is not an animal, vegetable, or mineral it is an OTHER, it HAS to be something! Still, the oval-like ball continues, questions like: “Is it heavier than a pound of butter?” “Does it come in a pack?” “Is it hot?” “Can it be found on a farm?” The randomness of his concerns is absurd and entertaining. Then comes the moment, “I am thinking, that I will guess that you were thinking… Were you thinking of a _________?”
90% of the time he is right, much more often right than wrong. Ten dollars and eighty-three cents at Wal-mart and this tiny, massively manufactured ball made by RADICA: running off of two AAA batteries seems to know almost and item you think of.
Comment with a suggestion and I will gladly try to stump him. Just be general with your objects; ie. Hammerhead shark = Shark, Cereal box = Box. Anyway, have fun with it and I’ll post any results.

Virginia Un-charmed

2005-08-02T10:06:00.000-07:00

The End.

Of a time, a way, a thought, a world ~ all where I worshiped you as if the gods themselves envied you. You were my study, my dream. It was your voice always inside of me. You were my religion.

Now I hand to you the note cards and feel almost humorous, to give them to you. To suggest that you might one day look around and decide that it is you who wants to pen a thought or two to me. Comical, really.

From within myself I watch the world as it turns on its axis, heavy and delicately balanced. I can’t help but wonder what would happen if it did shift and we all tumbled right out of place. I felt that before, as if I were tumbling out of place, my own personal earth having bounced from its axis. It was the single most frightening thing and then again it was the most beautiful. One cannot go back, cannot pretend that they never lived out of orbit. It will not work, or that is my experience.

My name does not matter for I am your Virginia, a Woolf spider. Dreams of you, my coveted, my beautiful, my dearest Vita ~ they haunt me each night that I find sleep. They ravage every console I fabricate for myself and still I replay them again and again, hungrily consuming them as tiny insects caught in my web.

While our souls have met before and our basic story has been told do not pretend to know the ending, do not be so unwise. It is when one turns away assuming such knowledge that the axis is lost and all things are shifted. Instead invite time, that dreaded enemy, watch as it smoothes the rough edges and polishes the opaque surface. See what awesome luster, what amazing colors are born.

One day you will see me. Until the very recent there was no room for error, no possibility for feelings to change, no chance that things might be different. Only now does it occur to me to marvel on whether or not I will still be on my knees, hands clasped in prayer, room full of flavored smoke and meditation. Will I still be a worshiper and you still my religion?

The end.

Do not discourage for it is in the end where the attentive, the industrious, the conscientious, those that are resolute, that are dedicated and steadfast, the few which are of superior intelligence find new a beginning.

I Hate It More Now That I Understand

2005-08-01T01:32:00.000-07:00

I could never understand. How can you love, ferociously, painfully, honestly, colorfully, alive with it, on fire with it, burn with it through day and night, how can you love, and then, not. Simply realize one morning that the sun looks different and that this world you have woken to is not the one you fell asleep on last night. How could one search for the change and find that what is no longer there is the love you thought you lived because of. Random, fragile, of ASTROLOGICAL importance, and then, well, truthfully quite insignificant. Like all things beautiful and soul touching and magical, it is and then, just like that, it is no longer.
Suddenly you are left groping blindly for what used to fill your chest, lift your feet from earth. Feeling beyond reason you search yourself in disbelief. Only to find that indeed it is gone, your heart and mind slightly stained with its sweetly-burnt scent like the sticky residue lining the inside of a delicate glass pipe, a drug smoked, a high had and then softly forgotten. The whisper of memory. The emptiness inside of you fills with thoughts, observations, obscure and relentless. You are aware of the indention left by that awesome love on your life, on your sleep, breath, hopes, existence, just as you feel the prickly scratch of a wool sweater long after its taken off. Panicked you grasp at shreds of memories, silky ribbons that trail away and you pray never to forget, swearing that had you known it would be gone you would have journal-ed every word, every moment. Would have recorded, taken pictures, painted and scribbled, forgetting sleep and food.
You would have lived an insomniac’s static electric life so that you didn’t miss a thing. Only still, I swear to you, in the black and white photographs of thought and dreams and memories there are still details lost, edges growing blunt and watercolors run n i n g .
It was that I never understood. Now I do, still I hate that such wonderful things must pass. It is life: grow, bloom, wither, fade.

Change

2005-07-18T00:29:00.000-07:00

Darling,

Change is how Life deals with Time

and

Pain is how the Heart deals with Change.

Please know, I love you still.

Feels Like Home

2005-07-14T15:04:00.000-07:00

I feel warm, slightly sick and shaky all over. My nerves are shot and waves of panic are sending me swirling and disoriented to slam into the ocean floor. We are at a place where, once again, I don't know what to say to you. I am not sure what it is that you'd like to hear, which could be why I feel so wrong inside. What you'd like to hear was never my concern, I simply let what was inside come out and miraculously you would smile. I believe it was that fact which allowed you to become someone, the only someone, I feel comfortable with inside and out. One of the only people who, if tomorrow took my last breath, could say they missed me. Aside from Korrynne and BellaTina any heartache witnessed would be the drama you so despise, it would be people missing an idea or an incorrect assumption because they do not know me. That you do means so much to me, it almost makes it to where I cannot breathe. You say that you do not lie, you will not say someone is beautiful if they are not you just do not make comment at all. I have no reason to believe that is anything other than honest so I am going to accept that. In accepting that I am accepting the things you have said to me, things that I found might have motive and might be meant to influence. I am going to disregard that little voice of warning and dismiss any ulterior motives I might have fabricated.
Soul mates. I believe, with all that I am, that I would not be who I am or who I will become had I never met you. With every atom that makes me up I know that I was looking for you, that I needed to find you in this life. There is a saying, "Feels like home." It would be terribly in appropriate for me to say that of you. I could say, "Feels like I imagined home should. Feels like love, safety and, dear sweet Jesus, it feels like I always prayed home would."

You Are Painfully Beautiful

2005-07-08T03:35:00.000-07:00

You ~ you are painfully beautiful. The thought of you liberates a thousand thousands of brilliant blue and green butterflies within my stomach. Sapphire blue butterflies like the deep ocean of your skin and fire green butterflies like that which spills from your eyes. You are without explanation of any form ~ creatures as awesome as yourself simply do not exist here. They cannot for they are not made up of the same elements. You ~ for marvelous instance ~ you are not flesh and bone like me, you are light and energy and magic and glamour. You are stars and fairy dust and dreams. All woven into a superbly astonishing, beautifully crafted, flawlessly complete Angel. You take my very breath away. You erase the sky and the clouds ~ turn off the sun and melt the mountains. You come near me and suddenly the ground I stand on is gone, falling a million miles an hour ~ I tumble through your space. Never fully aware of how you do it ~ only awesomely aware that you do it so well.

Your grace and self-control are astounding. You hypnotize by the way in which you move ~ liquid and poised, dangerous lion. Fear of you runs through me ~ frozen. I cannot turn away ~ cannot move forward and yet will not retreat. On my knees looking up into the face of God’s most handsome. His pride, His joy ~ His ultimate achievement. My lips part slightly and air that my lungs cannot inhale moves cool over them. I would die to stay here in this moment ~ to worship and adore ~ I would live this overwhelming obsession my whole life. I would never see another sunset ~ never taste another salty ocean breath ~ I would live out the rest of my life and never paint or draw or write of anything other than you ~ your intensity. You are everything. I am held ~ willingly captivated ~ in the prison of your hauntingly gorgeous smile. Intoxicated, drowned, lost and found within that smile ~ the smile of the heavens. Broken down, torn to pieces, destroyed and rebuilt within those eyes ~ the green of the stars.

Where did you come from and where are you going? How do you hold time so statuesquely still? Who will I be after knowing you? Stronger, more beautiful, smarter, improved ~ there is no way I could absorb you and not abide the change. It is without doubt that I am now a more superior being, enhanced ~ charmed. All that you touch you distinguish ~ for your touch calls forth the awesome. This is because you are awesome. Awesome, the word should be honored to be used for you; all of these should for not one comes close to what it needs to be to begin to describe you.

Forever I will write ~ endlessly using the same words and searching for new ones. It is part of my destiny. Forever no words will be good enough. That is part of theirs.

So Now You Have A G.F.

2005-07-06T15:36:00.000-07:00

My heart does hurt ~ my chest aches.

Inside myself I am not sure what this is ~ this void which is so very like nothing I have ever felt. I had been empty ~ I am not now. I had felt the pain of a struggling ego as its pride was torn away ~ at the time I mistook that for a broken heart. My ego is not hurting. No gasp of agony as the sting of betrayal leaks poison into my veins. No ~ none of those things.

At first your words had caused a cold shockwave to freeze my blood and internal organs. My disbelief acting as blinders to my vision. Then I felt the blur of detachment ~ the burn of a real soul-deep wound opening as the razor sharp words peeled back the thick shell of safety I keep myself in. A deep breath with no oxygen and dust lighting a fire in my eyes as if tears. I smile for there is nothing for me to say.

Over the next few days I know I will emerge from the chrysalis of sadness. Still, being with you gives me a peace that I ~ even now ~ do not understand. I cannot look at you eye to eye ~ I cannot smile at you ~ my eyes will not sparkle. Outside I am distracted and you say I sound dead. Inside of myself I am drifting through confusion and indecision ~ how can I stand to be near you ~ how is it that I still feel as if I need your presence to find my clarity? Why ~ why is it that I feel worse when I leave than I do standing next to you? How are you able to calm this ~ to ease it ~ how?

After I put you to bed I leave ~ I cannot sit and talk to you tonight ~ I don’t know what to say. I can’t understand what is happening to me. I feel like a doll wrapped in plastic and packed in a box awaiting her trip into the attic. I feel suspended and still ~ I feel like a tornado has me in it’s middle where the world is freakishly calm inside the forceful chaos. Movie reel memories as sweet as a child picking flowers and yet no emotion arrives with them. No real pain ~ no thrilled happiness ~ just this hollow ache and this acid like desire which burns through me in spite of myself. So I write you a letter ~ faithful way to talk without talking. Pour it all out ~ how I am confused but honestly not mad with you. What was I doing that I should give you such power and without any thought ~ that I should release myself to you and let you have the frail and real parts of my soul and heart. That I should be so utterly stupid.

I want you to know that everything I said I meant and I mean it still. I want you to call if you ever want or need me. I want you to remember that forever ~ I am forever going to adore and be amazed and want and forever I will have this. I want you to understand and know. I want it to matter to you in the tiniest way for it matters to me in a monstrously beautiful gigantic way.

With my age I have learned that though it feels sometimes like you cannot ~ cannot breathe ~ cannot think ~ you can. I know that. Only ~ I don’t want to have to get use to this. I don’t want to wait for it to ease away. I don’t want to turn off the passion ~ I don’t know if I can. I don’t want you to be someone who I don’t know anymore ~ a friend I spend an hour talking to just to brief the last six months.
I love you ~ I know it. I live it ~ I am it. Right now ~ I feel it in a terrible way.

Please, Forget Me

2005-07-06T15:34:00.000-07:00

In truth it is utterly ludicrous ~ almost comical ~ that this letter causes me so much anguish. How it causes me to feel ill to my stomach and blink back a strange burn ~ how my fingers and hands up to my shoulders and body is filled with this shocked and scared warmth ~ like fear that runs cold and then boils inside every vein and artery. That I should write it reluctantly, so severely concerned with how honestly devastated I would be if it hurt you in anyway. I believe the only reason I can write it at all is because inside I am fairly sure you will read it and ~ if anything ~ be only momentarily aggravated with the time you wasted on it.
“Life is a game.” Your words, that beautiful fucking voice. It was not so far away ~ in the grand picture it was a long time ago when I was becoming who I am now. This girl trapped on a carnival ride ~ spun around and unsure. I took note at the time the brief thought that I should take heed of that warning ~ only you with your way though you have the same presence of a fierce late-summer storm ~ some how you felt safe. Those words were forgotten and then last night as other things hurt and wore on my heart ~ as my confusion here with you was being drown by a rage I tried so hard to quiet ~ those words and that whole night came like a rush of blood to my head. I realized that while to me this was never a game and I while what I feel is raw and real ~ while I never played pretend ~ if your philosophy is that life is a game a congratulations is order. A titanic and enthusiastic, “Well done!”
You are ~ as I am convinced you will always be ~ the winner. Smooth and cool, very ‘pimp.’ Standing here ~ feeling this ~ and there is no one to blame other than myself. You never lied ~ never out right gave any reason to fathom a thought of what tripped me out being mutual. You in your way of smiles and laughs and half sentences or lightly spoken overtures. You are very ~ very good. I am ~ in some twisted way ~ impressed.
As a testament to your skills I am also addicted ~ I will do this forever. Wait for your boredom or lack of alternatives to cause you to look for me. After a week or month or several when you called I’d die of sheer elation and relief and tear myself form anything to be near you.
That’s why I have to ask you for a favor. It wont cost you anything or change your life in anyway. You’ll not suffer the ache or emptiness ~ you won’t even notice. For me ~ could you not call me, because forever if you call I will answer and I will come and I will twist myself to please you and I will hurt because I am not enough. I will call ~ I know I will ~ I will want to hear your voice and feel the high only you can give. Forever thinking, hoping, * that we might again collide in just the right way.
I was hoping since I cannot turn you off and nothing will erase you from me ~ maybe you could do it to me ~ it shouldn’t be too hard.

I was sick to my tummy, I hated to breathe. My head felt dizzy and my heart hurt so very bad. I shook when I gave it to her. I was in a way commiting suicide ~ to loose her was going to kill me. She read it and her cheeks flushed scarlet. Her green eyes brighter because of the red around them. "So you don't want me to call you."

I look at her and my stomach knots into a twisted ball of hurt. "You could not read that and think I don't WANT you to call. Yes, I want you to call ~ ALWAYS. I need you not to, I NEED you to turn me off."

She stands up angerly and sits when I ask her to. She clenches her jaw with madness and relaxes when I remind her that she promised to be nice. She takes a moment and then looks up at me. "No."

Tears are burning my eyes and I tremble harder. "No, what?"

"No, I cannot do that, I will not fulfill that request."

There are tears now, which she ask me not to cry and I am trying to honor that. I demand again and again ~ i need to know why she wont just leave me to feel this agony as it rips me apart.

Her beautiful voice, "We are a certain kind of soul mate. I have to know you and talk to you."

Those words and that thought both completes my heart destroys me.

I believed that with all of my being. I believe it still ~ it's why I cannot walk away. Why she always makes it better. Even now, as she makes it worse.

Who Needs Relationships?

2005-07-06T12:36:00.000-07:00

I'll just fuck my friends and die alone.

Maybe it sounds crude but really. I seem to be a wonderful, life long, I'd-die-without-you friend and yet some how never the 'girlfriend' type. It's just that I'd like to love someone ~ other that she who does not love me ~ I'd like to be the one they come home to. I want to give someone everything ~ I'm ready.

I Feel Like Crying

2005-06-20T10:41:00.000-07:00

I have your necklace wrapped twice around my wrist, the rainbow beads and metal clip do not make me smile as once the could have. The idea of having to see you to give it back, my stomach twist and I feel ill. I moved your picture away from my sight this morning, hid the smile that always made me feel special as if i were what no one else could be. I hate that I was ever so stupid.

Every other time I said, “Only I do not feel like crying.”

Now, loving you is hurting my heart and breaking my soul.

Now, I feel like I may die.

I feel an awful lot like crying.

You Do Not Care

2005-06-20T08:32:00.000-07:00

This is not a mere fluctuation. This is not a flaw that will lend its self to your ultimate perfection. This is not something I can creatively blend into the fabric of my fairy tale lie I have blindly chosen to live.

I begged you not to destroy the image, expressed how important it was to me, how delicate it was and how thin you had it stretched. I rejected the idea that you may not care if it were eternally damaged or if I just got over you. I wanted to think that you would miss my company, my physical affection, my eternal admiration, and me. I wanted to believe that you might notice I was gone.

You do not care. My space is filled, filled before I am even gone.

Careful to always say ‘someone’ never ‘you.’

You do not care at all because someone is there with you and you will never notice that that someone is not me. That someone does not love you the way I do, will not think of you the way I do.
You will never have the wings of angels in their eyes ~ you do not care.

Good Bye

2005-06-19T22:22:00.000-07:00

“Of course you are putting me to bed, you have every night for the past ~ how long?”

A month and a week, until Friday. Then Saturday and Sunday. So I will assume that you have conquered your sleepy daemons and that you no longer need me.

So my purpose has dwindled once again. No longer serving anything other than a constant admirer and you have several of those you feel more worthy. Good bye ~ my beautiful. Good bye ~ my heart. Good bye ~ my dream and hope and belief. Good bye ~ my truth. My lover. My pain. My faith. My prayer.

Good bye, I loved you.

Good bye,
I love you still.

When You Say You Are Sorry

2005-06-13T14:47:00.000-07:00

My heart does not hurt ~ nor my chest ache. Inside myself I am not sure what this is ~ this void which is so very like nothing I have ever felt. I had been empty ~ I am not now. I had felt the pain of a struggling ego as its pride was torn away ~ at the time I mistook that for a broken heart. My ego is not hurting. No gasp of agony as the sting betrayal leaks poison into my veins. No ~ none of those things.
At first your words had caused a cold shockwave to freeze my blood and internal organs. My disbelief acting as blinders to my vision. Then I felt the opening of detachment ~ the burn of a real soul-deep wound opening as the razor sharp words peeled back the thick shell of safety I keep myself in. A deep breath with no oxygen and dust lighting a fire in my eyes as if tears.
There is nothing for me to say.
Over the next few days anger emerged from the chrysalis of sadness and still being with you gave me a peace I ~ even now ~ do not understand. I couldn’t look at you eye to eye ~ I could not smile at you ~ my eyes did not sparkle. Outside I was distracted and you repeatedly asked what was wrong. Inside of myself I was drifting through confusion ~ how could I stand to be near you ~ how could I still feel as if I needed your presence to help me find my clarity?
“Are you okay?” You ask me. Your face is holding a look of accusation. I nod ~ fully aware that will not suffice. I know how much you dislike not knowing what is on my mind ~ especially when it seems that something is wrong. “You seem lost.”
“Lost?” I answer with a question. I glance at you only long enough to catch the blatant look of ‘that’s what I said’ which you have glued to your beautiful face. “Maybe. I just need to figure things out, just a little blown from the weekend.”

I drive for an hour after I put you to bed. I can’t understand what is happening to me. I feel like a doll wrapped in plastic and packed in a box waiting her trip into the attic. I feel suspended and still ~ I feel like a tornado has me in it’s middle where the world is freakishly calm inside the forceful chaos. Movie reel memories as sweet as a child picking flowers and yet no emotion arrives with them.

I love you ~ I know it. I live it ~ I am it. Tonight ~ I do not feel it.

So I write you a letter ~ faithful way to talk without talking. Pour it all out ~ how I am not mad with you ~ I am mad with me. That I should give you such power and without any thought ~ that I should release myself to you and let you have the frail and real parts of my soul and heart. That I should be so utterly stupid. Fear to give it to you ~ fear that you will misunderstand ~ get angry.

You read it and defend and then slowly understand and offer the words, I’m sorry. If I hurt you. I’m sorry.
My response is sincere, “I appreciate the gesture of the words.”
That statement seems to catch you off guard and you rethink and say it again and then it seem that the light goes on and you say, “I am sorry that you feel that you chose wrong and I am sorry that you regret giving yourself to me and I am sorry that you feel like I wasn’t the right person.”
I could swear that you mean it. Thank you.

I could swear that you feel something ~ only I have been wrong so many times before.

Why?

2005-06-06T00:51:00.000-07:00

“Why would I push you away? I like being friends with you. I like being around you, spending – hanging out with you. You’re my friend, I like that we’re friends.”

I am just so tired of wondering, not knowing ~ waiting. I just don’t understand how someone who is so good at talking, so well rehearsed in blunt observation, so open about what is going on, can then turn around and be so vague. If you know me so well ~ better than myself, as you once again this weekend pointed out ~ is it even possible that you are unaware of how confusing you can be. I don’t want more necessarily, don’t need a title or word to define my role in your life. If, however, you have decided to change the dynamics of our ‘friendship’ it seems only fair that you share that with me.
I can be your friend ~ I adore you and care for you with all that I am. I would die without you ~ literally I believe that my heart and soul would lose so very much that I would not be able to exist as I am and therefore the girl you know, and I love to be, would die ~ perhaps forever. I just need to know where you are and I need to hear you say the things you imply. I feel so worn out with the struggling to understand ~ squinting and leaning in so that I smell your cologne and feel your breath just trying to make since of your words. You purposely trip people up if you feel them get comfortable ~ I know, but darling I am not comfortable in that way. You ease my soul, my heart fills with peace, my breath comes calmly and I could sleep ~ just to be near you ~ still when it come to you I am not comfortable. Why ~ if I were ~ would you want me not to be? You ask questions and psychoanalyze me ~ pulling out the things I do not choose to share with anyone. Why would you, if you do not care, and are not interested? To open up to you is to trust you ~ why fight so hard for that if you would not at least be careful with it? Why take that long, deep look only to turn away?

Shadowboxer by Fiona Apple

2005-06-03T08:38:00.000-07:00

Once my lover, now my friend
What a cruel thing to pretend
What a cunning way to condescend
Once my lover, and now my friend

Oh, you creep up like the clouds
And you set my soul at ease
Then you let your love abound
And you bring me to my knees
Oh, its evil, babe,
the way you let your grace enrapture me
When well you know, I'd be insance -
to ever let that dirty game recapture me

You made me a shadowboxer,
baby I wanna be ready for what you do
I been swinging all around me
'Cause I don't know when you're gonna make your move

Oh, your gaze is dangereous
And you fill your space so sweet
If I let you get too close
You'll set your spell on me

So darlin' I just wanna say
Just in case I don't come through
I was on to every play
I just wanted you
But, oh, it's so evil, my love,
the way you've no reverence to my concern
So I'll be sure to stay weary of you, love,
to save the pain of
Once my flame and twice my burn

You made me a shadowboxer,
baby I wanna be ready for what you do
I been swinging all around me
'Cause I don't know when you're gonna make your move

This Is Me

2005-05-27T09:38:00.000-07:00

a feeling of imminent danger or doom;
the need to escape;
palpitations;
sweating;
trembling;
shortness of breath or a smothering feeling;
a feeling of choking;
chest pain or discomfort;
nausea or abdominal discomfort;
dizziness or lightheadedness;
a sense of things being unreal, depersonalization;
a fear of losing control or "going crazy";
a fear of dying;
tingling sensations;
chills or hot flushes.

When She Sleeps

2005-05-26T16:28:00.000-07:00

So many nights I sit by her, alight the very edge of her bed, as she settles into her cloudlike pillows. I wait for her to find herself the perfect resting place, arranging and rearranging her beautiful self. Once her movement stops I run my fingers through her hair, down her neck and back and trace back up again. Sometimes I touch her face, lightly drawing the perfect lines of her jaw, or the faultless arch of her eyebrow. I watch as she rifts to sleep, notice the way her mouth relaxed, her eyes dance slowly under their lids, and I watch as she pulls herself back to awareness, the way her face changes just before those green eyes flutter open for the briefest second. I adore this time with her, though we rarely speak and some might consider it an awful lot like being alone. I covet it because it brings me peace, breath. In these hours my mind is full of art and inspiration, as my hands memorize her body like the map of an exotic land my eyes take in her loveliness and I feel good. I enjoy the idea, however foolish, that she needs me. She has become so comfortable and used to having me that somehow she sleeps easier with me here. While I fully understand that for my part I am interchangeable because what she needs is someone and I happen to be readily available, in those quiet moments it is easy to pretend it just might be better because it is me.

Best Year Ever ~ I'm Sorry, I Lied

2005-05-19T19:26:00.000-07:00

This was supposed to be the best year ever. It was, what happened? In ways it will always be one of the best. In ways it will be one I will regarded with hatred and shame and agony my whole life. Who am I? Where am I going and why does everything take so fucking long? I’m so very tired of saying it will get better, when? When will it be any better? This is life and that’s all there is to it.
I am a disappointment, a disaster. I am a horrible, horrible, desperate, ugly cunt-trash-nothing. I hate what I’ve let everything come to and despite the treacherous way it makes me feel, despite wanting to vomit because I am stuck in this skin, I seriously don’t see anyway to change it, except going back and I am almost positive that will only make me hate myself more.
The only feeble attempt at justification I can make is that I honestly believed that things could and would be good by now, or at least very, very soon.
Now what?

Mood Rings

2005-05-18T14:22:00.000-07:00

Red = Excited, energized, adventurous, ready to go
Orange = Stimulating ideas, daring, wanting
Amber = Nervous, mixed emotions, unsettled, cold
Yellow = Imaginative, thoughts are wondering, feeling okay
Green = Average, not under stress, normal
Blue-Green = Inner emotions are charged, somewhat relaxed
Blue = Relaxed, at ease, calm, loving
Dark Blue = Very happy, in love, passionate, romantic
Purple = Sensual, clarity, knowing the purpose
Pinkish = Fear, uncertainty, unanswered questions
Black = Tense, nervous, feeling cornered or harassed
Gray = Anxious, nervous, strainedWhite = Frustrated, confused, bored

I Can Never Explain

2005-05-16T10:39:00.000-07:00

I cannot tell you how your beauty makes me feel, how the warmth that stirs between us makes me smile. I cannot begin to talk to you of how as we make love you release me, how every time you look at me with that spark in your eye I die inside. I could never express how I wake from dreams of you and my entire body hurts to have you near me ~ to have to touch me or sleep so close that I might hear your breath ~ feel your heart beat. There are no words for the peace that fills me when I lay you down to sleep. When I sit with you ~ hold you ~ stroke you ~ watch you ~ as you drift off into sleep. How I am entranced as I lean in and kiss your forehead goodnight before I slip out of your room and let myself out your door. You ~ for all that you know of the countless way in which I worship you ~ may very well leave this life with out every truly knowing what you are to me. What your existence means to my own ~ what knowing you has done to the very fabric which makes me ~ me. You may never know how much better I am because of you ~ how much more and brighter ~ how changed and awake. You may never understand the amount of writing that would not have been done, the person who never would have walked this earth.
If you understand just one infinitesimal, miniscule fragment of what you and this and we are and what you and this and we mean to me then I will be satisfied for you have had a glimpse at what it is to be me ~ what it is to be so whole-heartedly privileged enough to not only look at you ~ to not only touch you and taste you ~ to adore you in such a multiple of beautiful and intimate ways.

Fluctuation

2005-05-10T02:05:00.000-07:00

You have broken something beautiful ~ destroyed something absolutely AMAZING. Inside I am a little hurt that you couldn’t just let it flourish, but I don’t hate you ~ not at all. I almost love you more. See, but people change – we are always evolving and moving, some of us much, much, agonizingly much slower than others. Some of us SO much faster it’s scary. You ~ I believe ~ lived your life rapidly changing for some time now, and you are slowing down. Rolling through it, catching your breath. I was still ~ terrified and resisting even the small growth that one cannot help. When I met you I was ready ~ the tension of kinetic passion and anticipation of anything ~ EVERYTHING ~ built to a point of breaking. You simply leaned in and, as soft as you spoke, your breath was enough to open the floodgates.
You were what I needed ~ in some ways I believe I will always need you. Only it is unlike anything I have known, it is the reason that I would like to always know you, to settled somewhere close to you. This need is not one where I need you to be myself or in which I fear abandonment, maybe need is the wrong word all together. I think it is. When you are near me I am brave and strong, you release the fear and I open up and feel life entirely. I like my smile and my laughter; I like the earth and all the mysteries of it.
You do not understand when I say that you are great ~ you smile that smile that says, “I know I am.” You don’t ~ you have no idea what I mean. It is so much more than your looks, which are fine and have an exquisiteness that baffles me. More than your movements ~ measured and eloquent like a cat. More than your ability to do anything so much better than anyone I know. More than your beautiful mind and wonderful heart. You have your own perfection, exist on your own level ~ in your realm.
Smarter than me? Maybe, you have more life experience that’s for sure. You fail to understand though. You think tied down, committed, responsible. I’m not saying any of those things ~ I do not want them. I just want to know you and your life as you grow and change. I want to be here growing and changing beside you. Not for you, not because of you ~ with you. I don’t want to be the change or limit your direction ~ I would just like to be your witness.
That’s just it ~ what you destroyed. I would have been your blind witness. I would have told the world of your superhuman life. I would have smiled for ages and thanked the stars until the day, or evening ~ or night, I took my last breath. I know that still I will be your witness, only now I know you are human. Oh, darling, though you are one of the absolute best that God graced this planet with ~ you are human.
You are human and within perfection, you are correct, there is fluctuation. I just ~ I fail to understand. Why would you want me to see that when it would have been easy to let me live and breathe under the impression that you were yourself a god? Did you not care that you might break the spell? Or did you think that spell unbreakable?
Still, I am not sad, I am unbelievably happy – am grateful, am excited, am overwhelmed, am alive!
I thank you, I cannot wait to see where we will go.

Woolf, Christmas 1945

2005-05-03T17:33:00.000-07:00

“Mad Daughter and Big-Bang”

Walking in the vegetable patch
late at night, I was startled to find
the severed head of my
mad daughter lying on the ground.

Her eyes were upturned, gazing at me, ecstatic-like…

(From a distance it had appeared to be a stone, haloed with light,
as if cast there by the Big-Bang.)

What on earth are you doing, I said,
you look ridiculous.

Some boys buried me here,
she said sullenly.

Her dark hair, comet-like, trailed behind…

Squatting, I pulled the
turnip up by the root.

Shark

2005-05-03T10:08:00.000-07:00

Please, please don’t look so happy. Please don’t let the cracks in my lips and the dirt in my hair bring you joy. Please don’t let yesterday’s jeans still on me and days of knots in my hair bring that smile. Please don’t see the sad in my eyes and come circling in, don’t hear the break in my voice and get too excited.
“WHAT’S WRONG NO LONGER DATING?” You gloat, you think that I’m dying ~ and well I could be ~ but it was so worth the fall.
We never were. I walk pass and keep my head down. So that you cannot see the sting in my eyes ~ so that you may not go for the kill.
“NEVER DID WANT YOU? GUESS GIRLS ARE JUST LIKE BOYS – GIVE IT UP AND THEY KNOW THEY CAN HAVE IT WHEN EVER – WHY WOULD SHE KEEP COMING AROUND? IF SHE GETS BORED WITH HER NEXT GIRL FRIEND MAYBE SHE’LL COME BACK UNTIL SHE FINDS ANOTHER…”
“Shut up ~ shut up. PLEASE!” You are wrong and maybe you will never see that and God I hope that you are getting what you need in this, may is serve some purpose. You are wrong ~ if you weren’t though ~ if you truly thought you were right why would you use it to cut out my heart that way. How could you find any joy in what you’re saying to me? Even if you thought it was wrong and you believed it a sin why doesn’t your heart hurt in the tiniest way as you see your youngest daughter crumble?
You keep on and want to know why I’m alone, who did she replace me with and why and when and what happened. Maybe now I’ll look for a guy with children and grow up. I shake my head and you want to know why I hate you so much that I have to carry on with this, “YOU RUN OFF AT HER WHIM YOU WAIT FOR HER TO BEKON. YOU LOOK LIKE SUCH A FOOL AND YOU MAKE ME LOOK LIKE ONE TOO. WHY CAN’T YOU JUST FORGET HER, FIND A MAN AND GET MARRIED?”
Tears you will saw are for her as you blind yourself to what you are doing to me. Tears and the rage that made me leave and keeps me gone and makes me ~ in ways ~ so ugly. “I am a lesbian m-“
“ONE GIRL HARDLY QUALIFIE-“
Screaming, “No that’s it. That’s it. She is my best friend and she makes me stronger and I like her and girls!”
You’re laughing hysterically at me, you’re laughing at that emotion and at my heart. You are killing me with that laugh, killing what I love.

My Darling Leo,

2005-05-02T14:18:00.000-07:00

Breathe ~ a reminder to myself. I imagine that you never need to remind yourself to breathe. In my mind ~ despite having seen you be this lovely timid girl ~ you are a fierce and brave lion. A lion with wings and eyes the color green only angels and other creatures most loved by God have.
The weekend came and I was so scared. You were so vague and indifferent and cool ~ you had never treated me as though there was a distance. I didn’t care that you made other plans ~ just that you didn’t talk to me about them. Not in a way like you have to explain ~ in a way like you always did before. I keep thinking that I should have seen something ~ that this shouldn’t be such a shock. Am I so blind? I never considered myself to be. Then I never considered a lot of things and that was just ignorant on my part.
Then there’s a phone call ~ several ~ and I hate them because I am so stupid drunk that I can’t even remember your voice or what was said. I know that their memory makes my heart hurt and I know that I had you raging mad. I know that I closed my phone and just before a wave of incredible sickness spun me around I thought, “God, please don’t let that be the last time we speak.”
All I know now is that scared is edging away and in it’s place there is this terrible sadness. I feel sick to my stomach and I reach for the phone. I’m going to call the one person who can always make anything better ~ ahh, but I’m leaving her alone ~ that actually may be backwards. She’s my Leo ~ my best friend and she’d know just what to say. Only today, I don’t think she’s say anything to me ~ she doesn’t want to even think of me. Guess that is what makes this the worst.
I’m not sure where you stand on so many things, don’t know if you think this could pass and we’ll still be friends with benefits or friends with out said benefits or friends at all. Here’s what I do know: I know that you became so wonderfully a part of everything and gave it life. I know that for a good while my poorly packed cigarettes will cause the same sting as my tied shoes. I know that I still think we’ll know each other always ~ what a lovely thought. I know that I will write you letters still, dreams and thoughts and things. I think I would die if I didn’t because you will inspire me forever. I know that I miss you already ~ I think that I know that you knew I would.
I * you were not still a mystery, I * you were not still full of such beautiful magic. I * I were more Sagittarian ~ more selfish and less interested. I * it didn’t feel so good to please you and have you smile at me. Even if you never spoke to me again ~ if you did and were horribly, horribly mean and deliberately hurt my heart ~ I would never * to forget that smile. Never * I knew or loved you less. I ~ in terms of you ~ am passionate and that is awesome and that I guess is bound to equal both very good ~ as it has ~ and very yucky ~ as we’ve so embarrassingly seen. How could I ~ now that I have felt this ~ been so alive with passion ~ so on fire with pleasure ~ completely awoken ~ how could I dare to * it were any different or imagine living this life any other way? I cannot and I will not and I do not want to.
All of My Love,
Rae

I Cannot Breathe

2005-05-02T11:09:00.000-07:00

And a week later they may have lost there sparkle forever. Please, God, please no.

I cannot breathe ~
Nothing I can do
I am without sleep,
So badly, missing you
I did not think ~
We’d really come to this
In all of my dreams
I’m never without your kiss
So now I’m here
Silence filling this place
If I close my eyes
I’m haunted by your beautiful face
The very green
Which makes the sun rise each day
Hurting me so bad
Still it kills me to turn away
Destroys something beautiful
Inside my ugly heart
Slowly causing pains
That tear me apart
And I know that I,
Should have seen ~
That you were growing bored ~
I was loosing that green
I know that I,
Would have done everything
There wasn’t the chance
To do anything
We’re not that far
From when it all began
What if I never
Hear your voice again
Will you ever look?
Where will I be?
Some how I’m sure
You’ll know where to find me
That kills me more
Because you’ll never come
When you loose your interest
You’re simply done
Now I am the girl
Who was silly to let you in
Sillier still, I’d keep it all
Despite our agonizing end

If My Eyes Sparkle

2005-04-26T12:45:00.000-07:00

This is me, I am paper
~ burned and torn.
Ripped at the edges
~ crumpled, worn.
Lost in this place
I know all too well.
Tumbling through darkness,
My desolate hell.
Finding immaculate hope
When you look at me.
As if you could, maybe
~ like what you see.
My voice an echo
~ my hands shake.
It’s buried inside of me,
So fucking ready to break.
Now I’m scared of you,
In this whole new way.
Letting go has never felt so close
As it feels being here with you today.
How do you do it,
Look and see right through?
The things I hide, my bruised little secrets
Lay there open for you to view.
I could always control it,
Holding on so tight.
Then here you come,
Radiating your beautiful light.
Bringing to the surface
All the things I pushed deep.
My prince, you ended
The blackest hundred-year sleep
You say my eyes sparkle,
Maybe it’s true
But, my darling, that sparkle you’re seeing
~ is simply the reflection of you.

Rappin'

2005-04-22T12:29:00.000-07:00

Now and then as we past time she does these little rymes ~ raps. It's something that always makes me smile. These are from our time in the hospital:

Rollin’ the dice
Once more than twice
feelin’ so nice
As I slowly entice
Her feelin’ so down
In her hospital gown
While the nurses come round
All she’ll hear is the sound
Of my voice speaking sweet
As I turn up the heat
& make her heart beat
To the rhythm of words that I speak
She’ll forget where she’s at
& be blind as a bat
To her day gone off track
As I make her relax
forgetting all pain
Her discomfort I’ll drain
And her joy pours like rain
As she’s got me on the brain

*The one below is from memory only ~ above she wrote out when I asked her to.

Playing Yatzee
All that I see
Is the girl in front of me
Smiling sweetly

Freak Bitches Don't Like Boys Who Wink

2005-04-22T12:09:00.000-07:00

His name is Paul; a few of the girls in the office know him from high school. I’m not going to pretend that he is unattractive, he is cute ~ dark hair and brown eyes, a nice face and his complexion is always colored a suntanned gold. Only there’s this air around him, and you know that he knows that he is a nice looking young man. You know, just being near him, he believes that he could have anyone he chose. The two I work with are prime examples of why he believes that ~ giggles and blush and peppy-dumb-blonde answers whenever he come by the office. I smile a small hi-how-are-you smile and I look away. I focus on whatever is at hand and try to attempt to suppress the gag reflex as he hits shamelessly on both of them.
Today they were not in and, forced to man the desk, a simple smile would not cover it.
P: Hey there! (Toothy smile and cheesy wink.)
Me: Hi, you can go ahead back, no one is back there. (Smile, eye contact and quiet dismissal.) (Nothing rude.)
P: Not to busy, you could probably get away for lunch, huh? (Stupid smile, never fading.)
Me: We’re busy, just not crazy.
P: Lunch?
Me: I brought it.
P: You could get away though, if you wanted or someone wanted you to? (The wink again, it’s as if his right eye operates on its own.)
Me: I wouldn’t want to. Thanks. (I get up and, still smiling as bile reaches the back of my throat.)
I begin to walk away, as politely as possible and as I reach the door it happens ~ that young man lets his inner insecure, jock, high school boy out.
P: Thanks, for what? Damn girl that aint no invitation. Lunch with a freak bitch, purple hair…
and it trails behind him as he walks away. At first rage fills my chest and makes it hard to breathe. Rage that every time I see him I with hold mean laughs and ugly comments, go beyond that to be polite, POLITE, and he is still so childish. Then rage washed away with laughter and a happy smile that stayed almost all day ~ freak bitch, purple hair. It’s been so long, such a long, long time since someone has tried to use that to hurt me. In that time I have grown comfortable with me, who I am, what I like. Since that time I met her and she liked me in the beginning because I had that “freaky-ish” style and I was different from all the girls around me. Freak bitch with purple hair and baggy pants and dark eyes and glitter…Freak bitch, why thank you Paul. Thank you very much I might almost go to lunch next time. Oh, dang, I forgot that freak bitches don't like boys who wink.

Make Me Stay

2005-04-20T10:19:00.000-07:00

She always says that I keep things bottled up. I always felt like I wasn’t the person everyone knew, like no matter how hard I tried to show them what was hurting inside it just wouldn’t come across. She says I’ll kill myself keeping everything under my skin. Maybe. I smile and say that most of what she thinks bothers me simply doesn’t and that what does I let go of. She says that there is a big difference between letting go of small things and letting go of those things that are wrong ~ I know what she’s talking about. She says, “Jesus, Rae, fucking yell! Fuck! Say something – don’t let her do this to you it’s fucking wrong, it’s just wrong!” I smile at her and she shakes her head. She says that something’s wrong and without think I say no. I don’t lie, only I do. Things are wrong but what would I say and why?
She always says that I keep things bottled up. I just shake my head and look away. She says that I should make a stand and I say that I’ve come to believe that walking away is best. Why fight? So that your torn and broken heart cane bleed more, rip beyond repair, to drag out the pain and despair, so that as you fight the world can see how much it’s killing you and the world can frown and shake its head with disappointment when you fall to the ground ~ your battle lost. No, thank you, I’ll just walk away and spare myself. Still, I wonder sometimes…
She put in a CD and turns up the volume, our windows down and lakes breeze makes my hair dance and curl. She closes her eyes as the music starts and when the lyrics roll I focus on the blue lights of the furthest sailboat. The girl sings to her own Leo ~ I would suppose ~ about how she adores her and yet can not have her so “Fuck you and your untouchable face, fuck you for existing anyway…” I know, oh boy do I know. Then another I totally understand and then “Make Me Stay” and as it plays she ask me what I’m looking at out the window, I hiding I think, “The boats.” I say.
“Well stop.” She laughs. “I can’t see your face and your reaction to the songs. I know you get them.”I nod and turn to her. As that last line touched my ears I almost cried. That’s it ~ exactly. I just really and truly and so-badly-it-hurts want someone who will make me stay. Who will stand in my way and keep me still. I want someone who will make me fight and who will win and keep me. I think I might want her to make me stay. I think she's the only person ever in my life who I believe could make me stay.
She always says that I keep things bottled up. She's right and she knows that, even though everyone who knows me would say that I keep nothing inside, she knows I do and it works because she takes it from me with out my having to say a word. She sees it and makes me give it up, she is heaven.

"Make Me Stay"
I'm gonna turn and walk away
you can wait til I am far alongthen run and come and catch my arm
and say you'd die if I were gone
I want to hear you call my name
it's too easy just to say it soft
I don't like my language
watered down
I don't like my edges
rounded off

I can't always wait
for your circumstance to improve
you know love is loose it
shifts each time you move
go ahead, put my back against the wal
lgive it all up or don't give it to me at all
you never know this could be our last night
so step back step back into the light
so I can see your sillouette
I'm not done looking yet

save the profile for the camera
give me your eye to eye
You know I know all your secrets
and you know all of mine
mostly - I don't go for the soft focus and the fantasy
I need something real I can think, and say and see - so
I'm going to turn and walk away
you wait til I am far along then run and come
and catch my arm and say you'd dieif I were gone
yes I'm going to turn and walk away
you can watch me go
or you can make me stay

C M C

2005-04-19T11:34:00.000-07:00

Well hello everyone, it’s a damn shame that just as I was starting to really blog again I get kicked in the ass and wind up sitting hospital bound for two days and just killing the whole roll I was on. Don’t worry, yours truly is doing fine. Atrial fibrillation, “A-fib,” my heart rate was around 168 a minute and there were some side affects ~ I’m feeling much better now. (That was Thursday and Friday.) The stay was even quite pleasant as I spent the time with the lovely Korrynne and my dear Leo. Leo and I played Yatzee and had a pretty good time; she rapped like she did on Mardi Gras and, after encouragement, she wrote one down for me. (That will be posted, it’s so darling.) She brought me diner, home cooked turkey and mashed potatoes her mother had made, she stayed all night; curled up at my waist as I petted her head and stroked her neck. Now I’m back and things will start popping up at a faster rate since many ideas have been scribbled in notebook and napkins while I could not log on!
Oh, so say a prayer that I have a healthy, stroke free, heart failure free life ahead if me and PLEASE pray that I can get approved for a mortgage loan from a participating lender and get help with my down payment and that that happens before the end of next week!Thanks!

Re: Your Comment

2005-04-11T14:20:00.000-07:00

“An Irish man learning French and teaching English… experiencing cultural diversity.” He wrote of his online blog. “Dreamer worker, warrior” He lists under About Me in his curiously less than revealing Complete Profile. I don’t know exactly what he means, but I know the words and I know what I mean when I use them. I know that lately this life has felt like a battle and I have been so surprised and proud by the warrior I found inside myself. He is a Virgo thirteen years older than my Sagittarian self; yet – without knowing him and with little to go on – I don’t believe he’d use my inferior age to negate the intelligence of my statements. He signs his emails “Collie.”
His first email made me smile, it’s been months and I don’t think that anyone other than myself, my darling Korrynne have bothered with this blog. Naturally it felt nice to receive a polite comment and, curious as to the person who left it, I checked out his blog. Colm Maguire, as it turns out, is a very interesting person who seems to be chronicling the rapidly shifting ups and mind blowing downs of his fast changing life. His passion and fire fill each outraged rant, and each perfectly timed apology for them. His entries inspire comments that are ridiculously long, but that can’t be helped, sorry.
An intelligent creature emerging slowly from his own bloody battle with life, still emerging just the same. Emerging ~ despite every mundane thing which would like to break his will, and very well might have at one point.
His second email came the day after I sought council in one of my dearest friends and confessed that lately I had been plagued with the thought that writing was not what I should do. Maybe I was just being foolish as we Sagittarians can be when we follow a dream long after it should end. She said, write but don’t pin hopes on it. I sat that night and thought, if not hopes, what is worth writing for? Then his email on some silly comment which became and entry of it’s own. He thought it was rich and well written. Well written? Thank you ~ SO much! He wrote a few very, very nice things but at the end he topped it all. Just for my writing, of which he’s read little, he wrote. “Thank you for you.” I read it, surprised ~ both by the lovely statement and how very good it made me feel. I read it and reread it and I thought, “So there it is, write I will.”
Collie ~ thank you.

"I Know You More Than You Know Yourself"

2005-04-08T08:27:00.000-07:00

"I didn't mean to upset you, or hurt your feelings."
You didn't do either. Aiming for the twenty ~ miss the board completely.
"You are upset."
No. Aiming for the twenty ~ hit the three.
"You get this face, your mouth all tight in a line and your ears a little up. I can tell."
I'm fine. Aiming for the twenty ~ miss the board and hit the ground.
Steps up to the line and aiming for the seventeen hits the double seventeen. 17 ~ closed. "I feel it, Rae. Your nerves are bad and they've been bad since you got here. What happened?"
Nothing. I'm fine.
Aiming for the sixteen ~ she hits the nineteen. Taking aim again she pauses and looks at me. "I can tell by your face and by the way you move. You seem really off and something is bothering you." Aiming for the sixteen ~ hits the tiny triple sixteen. 16 ~ closed. "It's either something happened at school cause you seemed okay in the car when we passed or-"
How could you tell by passing in the car? Aim for the twenty ~ hit the garage door, well above where I can reach.
"You seemed okay and sent that text message right after, maybe that was just seeing me. Maybe this has been with you all day ~ did something happen at home?"
No. Aim for the twenty ~ hit the twenty. I still need two more.
"See, your facial expressions and everything. Girl, I know you more than you know yourself. I think it drives you crazy."
Sideways glance at her face, green eyes locked on me. Aim for the twenty ~ hit the twenty. Reaching up to gather the darts she steps up behind me, reaching the one that split the wood of the garage door. Her body pressed against mine and her feeling so warm. I want toturn around and kiss her, I want her to turn me around. I have nothing to say to that claim of knowledge. She has proven herself extraordinarily insightful in regards to me and I wouldn't argue that at all. As for the thought that it drives me crazy, I would rather her believe that then go through how I actually feel about her knowing me so well. I think that I am not sure if she figured me out or if I made it easier for her then ever anyone in my life. I wonder if I opened like a book or if I disclosed my secrets in letters, either way. I love that she knows me, only it scares me a bit. Should she decide that she no longer wants me, it will be a direct blow to who I am ~ the girl she knows so well. Three darts and she needs only her bulls now.
I step back up to the line. I like this game ~ you step up and shoot. No strategically plotting against someone else. If you miss it's your fault, if you hit it's your victory. I'm not very good at it, but I like this game. Twenty ~ hit the triple eighteen. Twenty ~ hit it.
"That's it babe, twenties closed. Nineteen."
Drive me crazy that she knows me more than I do? No, excites me, warms me, makes me feel good that she cares to know me at all, and that it interest her enough to get to know me more. Makes me happy and sad. Hopeful and hopeless. But, it doesn't drive me crazy ~ so maybe she has more to learn yet.

New Border

2005-04-08T01:19:00.000-07:00

"You curl everything."
No, not everything.
"Those curlies I mean, on everthing."
I like them.
"You need a new border, everything is the same."
Not the same, it's never the same.
"Oh, I mean some varriation of the same thing like the stupid tattoo."
Stipid tatt-
"I didn't mean stupid like that, I meant how they were almost all exactly alike, only with tiny differences."
I know what you meant.

~ Amazingly stupid. Again.

Your Sweater

2005-04-07T14:28:00.000-07:00

I couldn’t sleep, you see. There were just so many things going through my mind. So many mental video clips and audio reels and you know how I am, I know you know how I am. So I thought, go for a ride, clear my head with loud music and high speeds that turn the road into a hypnotic blur. I dropped my keys getting into the car and had to crouch way down to the wet cement to reach under the car for them, cut the back of my knuckles on the under belly of the Saturn. Drop myself into the seat and then it happens, that magic thing that happens when you are near me. My nerves unwind and my muscles relax. I smell you, it’s your sweater hung over the passenger seat.
How I * that smell wasn’t as sweet and dear and intertwined in my heart. How I * it didn’t offer such a strong comfort. How glad I am that it does. I run my hand over the soft fabric and gather it in both hands, holding it to my face. Your smell and the beautiful memories, as detailed as the finest china. The pressure in my head drains and I feel good and relax, like when you curl in my arms and I fall asleep stroking you like a kitten.
If I said that I decided not to go for a ride, only instead I slipped back inside holding your sweater. If I told you how I didn’t have to drive for hours until the sun came up and I finally became too tired to go on. If I whispered gently into your ear about how the simple act of burring my face in the soft folds of your black sweater was all I needed to find that hidden passage way to the my delicious dreams of heaven, would you think I was crazy? Curled up here, the scent of your skin so real and close ~ I feel somewhat crazy, and happy and just so glad to be alive. So glad to know you the way I do. So grateful that you forgot your sweater, almost as grateful as I am that in some bizarre twist of fate you found something you could like in me. Almost, maybe a little more right now.

Safe / Alive

2005-04-07T02:19:00.000-07:00

Safe is what you feel when you have a routine in life ~ sure things, clockwork. Safe is what lies underneath the boredom and resentment the frustration and restlessness of life. Safe is why you stay still when you feel the energy crackle inside of you, just under your skin ~ because Lord knows you cannot walk away or change direction. Not without a well thought out plan, not without the correct budget or the necessary means. (I should include here that when I use necessary in that sentence I meant it in the way that it has come to mean in the “civilized” societies of today; necessary means ~ all those things which make life comfortable and easy.) Safe is nice and I guess well enough for most, only on the other side of safe is ALIVE.Alive is when you step, or get knocked, outside the proverbial comfort zone of life. Alive is when you are stark raving mad with fear, up all night with worry, have not only hit rock bottom but have smashed into it face first and you lay there, tiny broken bits of who you thought you were, consumed with questions. Alive is after you stay at the bottom for a while, when you start to heal and you stand yourself up to have a look around. Alive comes from having all of those fears realized and yet, still breathing, still smiling over some silly child hood memory. Alive is unleashing all those self-imposed regulations, embracing the electricity and focusing the restlessness. Finally, alive is after you’ve taken the fall and you begin to find your way, thinking that you are wondering aimlessly, and then you get the answer to one of your questions ~ you look ahead of yourself and you see that all of the answers are there, just waiting to be found and you know ~ KNOW ~ that this will turn out as it should be. Not knowing what it should be, well yes that causes some stir of insects deep inside your belly, and that is just lovely!
Welcome to the living it's beautiful!

What She Means Is

2005-04-06T23:53:00.000-07:00

One entry found for Amaze.
Main Entry: 1 amaze
Pronunciation: &-'mAz
Function: verb
Inflected Form(s): amazed; amaz·ing
Etymology: Middle English amasen, from Old English Amasian, from A- (perfective prefix) + (assumed) masian to confuse -- more at ABIDEtransitive senses
1 obsolete : BEWILDER, PERPLEX
2 : to fill with wonder : ASTOUND
intransitive senses : to show or cause astonishmentsynonym see SURPRISE- amaz·ed·ly /-'mA-z&d-lE/ adverb

When I use the word it is because it is one of the words most suited for her that I have found in our ugly unromantic language. Amazed. I use the word and mean that it hurts to look at her for she is much to beautiful. Amazing. I say that and mean that I have always believed in angels and heaven though never thought that I would have such flawlessly awesome proof of such things. Amazement. I am lost in when she makes love to me, for when she does she touches something that is not physical and releases a deep locked energy within my soul.
When she says it to me, about how I never hit my target. When her eyes fill with awe and she says she’s amazed by the fact that I didn’t know the answer. I hate when she uses such a beautiful word for me. For when she says amazing, it isn’t in the thank-You-God-for-this-magical-being-I-have-come-to-love-with-all-myself-and-all-I-am way that I say it about her, she means it in an awful way. She means amazingly stupid.

Anyone Can Read

2005-04-06T16:43:00.000-07:00

"You use the same name for everything online?"
"Yep."
"An online journal anyone can read?"
I shake my head, and laugh kind of smart. "No, an online blo-" Then her question hits me and I look up. Her green eyes are a prison and she's holding me with their steadiness. Her mouth with that oh so slight curl in the corners and I know that by my face she now knows how much I've poured into this 'little project' I started last December. "Yes, a blog that anyone can read." The sweet sarcastic which was going to correct her use of journal and not blog had simply fallen from my voice and in it's place was quiet vulnerability. I am aware that I am not good at bluffing or hiding what I feel. With her it is even more pointless than ever.
"That's kind of stupid, don't you think?" Her smile spreads as she knows she's gotten her point across.
"No, it's cool and if people read it and leave comments it's good. Just that they don't know me." I am trying so hard not to sweat, sitting across from her at the glass table. "You can't!"
"Why not? Anyone can."
"Yes, but you know me." It's more than that. It will change how she is around me, it will change what she thinks of me. She will read it and not want to be my just friend. She'll want this psycho far away. She'll take it wrong, I know she will. "It's nothing bad ~ at all. There is a lot of you and things I've said in ways, just that there they are raw and dreamy and mine." God, I'd love to share it with her, I so badly * I could ~ only, if it did do all the horrid things I fear it may ~ I'd hate it and right now I so truly love it. I'd never be able to write and feel good hear, I'd only sit at the screen and *I had never written anything so that she would not have gotten scared away or turned horribly off.
"Fine, I wont."
"If you do you just need to tell me you did. It's only fair."
"Why?"
"I need to know that you know all of that, I have to know that you found it."
"So you could change what you write?"
"No." ABSOLUTELY NOT! Why write at all if not what I feel? "No, just so that I know. It's only fair."
A laugh, small and cunning.
"I think I would be able to tell anyway, just by changes in you."
"Now it's like a challenge. To find it and to see how long I could keep it from you."
"No, no challenge! I just think I'd be able to tell."
"I'd have to tell you really quick after, I know I would."
Good. I hope she would.

I don't think she'll find this place, if she does and she would take the time to read it all ~ I wonder if then she'd understand. I hope she'd see what I wanted everyone to see every time something real enough (to me) to make it hear happened. I would hope she's fall in love with this tiny, but, God so gorgeous, little piece of cyber land and decide that she wanted to stay and inspire more loveliness forever, or as long as things are beautiful between us.

How Did You Know ~ Chamonix

2005-03-15T09:51:00.000-08:00

I’m in a spin – I’m giving in – I’m living in a daydream
when I saw you –your smile shone through - and touched me like a sunbeam
I’m inside out – I’m crazy about the way you make my heart feel
I’m head over heels – I’m falling more each day

how did you know – I’ve been waiting to touch you and tell you how I feel
I’m walking on clouds – I’m spellbound about you – I can’t believe your real

how did you know – I’ve been thinking about you and dreaming of your kiss
how did you know - how did you know

I’m in a spin – I’m giving in – I’m living in a daydream
when I saw you –your smile shone through - and touched me like a sunbeam
I’m inside out – I’m crazy about the way you make my heart feel
I’m head over heels – I’m falling more each day

how did you know – I’ve been waiting to touch you and tell you how I feel
I’m walking on clouds – I’m spellbound about you – I can’t believe your real

how did you know – I’ve been thinking about you and dreaming of your kiss
how did you know - how did you know

Please, PLEASE. Please tell me how it is possible that someone could write such a completely perfect song.
For you Leo ~ this song had to be written for me to give to you!

I Love Our Love

2005-03-11T12:08:00.000-08:00

When we make love in my dreams it’s almost exactly like being with you in reality. The physical act of being with you, in your arms, the most beautiful moments I've ever had in this life; they intoxicate the rest of my life, they ripple through the pointless and they glitter the painful.

Forget It

2005-03-08T11:52:00.000-08:00

Don't push me, please. You don't hear me, I question wether or not you even see me. Thought that you did, fear that I was fooled. I feel like you want to stay so far from me, even as you spend each night with me. I know that you don't trust me, unclear if you would like to and can't or if you don't even want to try. Every time I think I'm closer to knowing you, you trip me ~ I am almost sure that you do it on purpose.
All the time I've spent in awe of you, of your magic and your fire; you see it as my choice and my time wasted.

Last Night

2005-02-21T13:32:00.000-08:00

I think that this is a time in which I can not write. I should say I can't not write honestly ~ when I open it up to look inside there is nothing, so how can I fix it or get rid of it. All that is there is me, only ~ I could've sworn it wasn't me. I know there were outside forces.
I talk to her and she touches me. My hand, my knee, my face. She says she understands what I'm saying, not what I've said. When my voice creeps to a nasty rasp of wet and pain she leans into me. Her lips on my ear as promises that are not hers to give are given. Sometimes the things that she says are so beautiful they hurt and when that happens and I breathe deep she pauses and kisses me softly.
All night she makes me smile, but underneath there is this hurt. I want her to make it go away. I want her to be the one who can, only I don't believe anyone can. That's scary.
When she leaves her arms hold me longer than a usual goodbye. Her lips sit on my temple and her breath warms me, she tells me that it's just a little longer now and we'll be so happy soon. Will we? I * she could see how deep this break actually goes. I * I could show her in some way without revealing everything else.
"I know. " I say and kiss her neck. But, do I? I might have just told her our first lie.

I Love Girls

2005-02-17T23:26:00.000-08:00

I've never been one to hold my tongue, to watch what I would say, or reword something to make it more pleasant. When sexuality would be brought into a conversation I would honestly reply, "I am people sexual. Doesn't matter if they are boy or girl as long as they have something that catches you and keeps you there." When girls would be discussed I'd playfully chime in that, "I'd fuck her." (Kate Moss.) Or "I'd totally let her fuck me." (Angelina Jolie.) My first boyfriend knew I was nuts about my best friend at the time, he started a game of truth and dare and then, like the incredible guy he was, dared her to kiss me. When I told him I loved him but I had to see her more, he smiled and said, "Figure it out, I can't be a girl but I'll still be your boyfriend." It was heaven, I could have someone who cared more for me than anything else in the world combined and still see the girl that made my insides shake.

My second boyfriend, and the longest relationship, was no where near as understanding. While at first he thought it was a turn on to make jokes about getting it on with me and another girl he quickly lost that idea and would go strait to, "Oh, what you want to fuck her too?" I'd roll my eyes and sigh, but inside the answer was "Yes, I really think I might."

When I'd sit around with the boys and we'd talk about different things one of my friends would say, "You are so bi-curious." to which I'd always reply, looking straight at him and using a serious voice, "Curious implies that I'm not quite sure and I know what I like." He'd always get red and laugh.

When I met her the sexual attraction was undeniable. I had to have her touch me and once she did I had to know what it was to touch her, kiss her, oh and dear God, taste her. Holding onto her and cumming like I never had in my life, tasting the salt of her sweat as I licked her small, yet perfect, breast. This is what sex was always supposed to be, this is how it should always feel and never before had it felt this way. Not one moment of any other encounter could even try to compare to even a second of this. I always hated myself afterwards, I always felt awful and would usually cry. After she and I make love I sometimes feel like crying but it's because I can't believe how wonderful life is, how sickenly beautiful she makes me feel. Magic alive and shared with another person.

The idea of being with a man now is repulsive, I think it always was. I just associated those feelings towards sex in general. I am fascinated with the thought of a life spent with a girl. Loving, sharing, fucking, crying, making love, fighting, living with a woman. God help me find that one. (Sometimes it's fun to think that maybe I have found her.)

My mother likes to remind me, in her way as she always does, that I always said I was people sexual. She says snide things such as, "I know you like this girl because she pays attention to you and no one has liked you since, well, way before Scott. I mean it's not like he liked you, but Rae, you could find a nice little guy to do the same thing and then wont you feel silly for all of this?" She also likes to inquire and then give her opinion as fact, "So what's going on?" We're friends. "Oh, that's sweet. In other words she gets what she wants and you feel really dumb in what a couple of weeks, months if you really hold on. I just don't know why you are so desperate." It's not like that. "Oh, are you in love? Is it like forever and ever with a girl who doesn't want anyone to know about you?" We are friends and I enjoy her, if I can see her I want to and what ever happens after that I can't control so I am not going to talk about with you. "You're so cool. So smart, but wasn't I right before, deep down don't you know I'm right now? Do you have to do the same thing again and again?" What can I say to that, maybe you're right. I would hope not and I don't think so, but maybe.

I think that 'people sexual' was my way of saying, "I would like to know what it's like to be with a girl because I like them a lot and I would like it known so that should it happen no one is too surprised." Now that I know I know I never want to be with anything else. How lovely, how wonderful.

When I tell her I'm a lesbian, when I actual state those words to her, and that it's not just this girl because no one else was interested. I know she'll say I'm wrong and I know she'll swear it's just to hurt her ~ as all things I've ever done in my life were based on if they would or would not negatively affect my mother. She'll swear it's because I think I'm not worthy of a man (quite the opposite) or that I am crazy to suggest that I know that I want a woman. None of that will matter because the sticker is on the car, the smile is on my face and I LOVE girls.

The Answers

2005-02-17T23:24:00.000-08:00

You have all the answers.
Do I?
You are the one who's always right.
Am I?
You are so smart.
You think?
Everything you say just makes sense.
Does it?
You give the best advice.
Really?
I have to talk to you.
Why?

Six different statements each from different people who have said at least three of those to me. I'm glad if I help people, if my friends and loved ones feel better or more at ease. It's nothing really, just helping them step outside of the situation and see what's really going on. It's hard, you know, when everything in your life seems too big, and sometimes a little help to get outside the box is all you need. I don't give them answers I add perspective, in the end they had the answer the whole time. It's true, it has to be. If I really had the answers why would I be so fucked up?

Who Am I?

2005-02-15T22:50:00.000-08:00

A question so often asked. So rarely answered. Who I am is ever changing if I am truly living this life, for all things ~ the mundane, the ridiculous, the larger than life ~ change my reality, perception. Therefore changing how I interact, react, consider, evaluate and ultimately changing who I am. It is an unfair question. This world expects so much from people, where did the pressure to know exactly where you're going and by what age you'll be there and by what means and what when you arrive and how long and what next come from? How can you plan out your life so precisely when you truly don't know if you will have a tomorrow or what that tomorrow will give to you. How can you expect to share yourself if you have no real notion of who that self is? It is ludicrous to assume that I, or anyone my age can honestly answer that. Though no doubt some poor young people do have an answer. I am better off, though their proud parents and my own, I'm sure disappointed, parents, would disagree. For at least I know that I have no answer, instead of following a plan to a life only to waste more years and then realize that the person I made said plan for, the person I built said future for, isn't the person I am.
Who am I now? That is a question with answers, that question is fair and within reason. I am now a girl I actually like to be. I am now a girl who feels, though scared in her own right, somewhat in control. I can't change things, not really ~ however things are changed by how you deal with them. I no longer choose not to care, that really didn't work anyway. Now I care, so much so that my chest hurts and my hands shake, but still, through constant reminders, I force myself to breathe. Smile. Live. Continue.
So far it has worked.

Korrynne & Raejillian

2005-02-13T02:55:00.000-08:00

PHOTO REMOVED DUE TO SICK AND TWISTED FUCKS WHO CAN NOT LET GO

She'll die when she checks in and finds her picture here. She'll call me frantic and threaten to kill me. She should find comfort in the fact that she is the only person besides myself who ever come to see this place. She's really scary about these things, not that this world isn't a clear and justified reason for caution, just I usually don't listen to that voice.
I wanted to put it up, though, so that the world could potentially she the beautiful girl who I call my best friend. I don't think she even knows half of all her magic. But as she lives she will find it, more and more. She will hear the wind and the stars and know their secrets. She will hear pain and, having known her own, be able to silence it. She will give great advice and be shocked by her profound intelligence. I can't wait to see it.

...it's simple really...

2005-02-12T01:27:00.000-08:00

...close your eyes, and you have her. and everything is beautiful. and don't worry because it will all be fine, perfect really which is better than fine. don't worry now, just know you will be happy forever.

Thank you Violet. I love you. With everything I am and I'm glad I know you and I'm glad you are in my life and I am SO glad you are a living breathing part of me. I love you.

Sometimes I Forget

2005-02-12T00:28:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I forget that I am the one who is the living magic. I am the author of this story, the director of this play. Sometimes I forget to hold on to me, to keep that which makes me beautiful. Sometimes I forget that I am beautiful. Sometimes I forget that the most attractive things are those which first attract. So disgustingly willing to become what you want that sometime I forget what you wanted was me. Sometimes I forget to smile and sometimes I forget my voice of reason. Sometimes I forget that this isn't a dream. This isn't another one of those nightmares. Sometimes I forget that I can change things, that I can make things happen. Sometimes I forget that life rewards action. Speaking isn't enough, words alone do not a spell make. Sometimes I forget that love isn't perfect. Flaws and imperfections make things unique and special. Sometimes I forget who I want to be, who I used to be and how far I've come. Sometimes I forget that I am supernatural. Sometimes I just forget...

I'd Rather Never Love You

2005-02-11T14:50:00.001-08:00

You don't see this in me, I haven't shown it to you. I don't know why, I just can't bring people here. You don't see the fear or self doubt. You don't feel the tremble. God, but it's here. Letting you in, I shouldn't have. I knew I wasn't ready, I knew I'd only destroy it before it destroyed me and in the end lose out. Darling I would rather never love you this way than love you and push you too far. I would rather not know the girl who cryed with me in the car or made me see colors or was the first to truly make love to me, if not knowing her would let me know you forever. Keep you always as my friend. Now I am more than scared. To lose you would kill my heart because it is not only the loss of a lover but of someone who so quickly became a very best friend. Things can't always be the same, but do they have to be so drastically different? Can't you touch me and lean in and whisper, "Relax." Fix this the way you do everything else? If it wasn't you who I am going mad over I would seek you out and talk to you about it. I would give you all the lovely story and let you explain it to me the way you do everything that I just can't get. Everything that is just beyond me. Only I can't because you can't know how torn up I am. You have to stay on the other side and wonder what is wrong with me. Figure out why I am being so ugly and why you suddenly feel so far away.

Happy Forever

2005-02-11T13:36:00.000-08:00

I think we might have finally found the someones who will make us happy forever. I said those words to you. I thought, "How can I be so foolish, how dare I say those words out loud, how could I be so utterly ridiculous?" Yet it was such a nice thought, such a good, warm, lovely thought. I tried to let it go, but instead I said it to you. I gave you that frightfully beautiful thought. You, you smiled.
Then I called, reaching out, *ing you could make it better or at least tell me to hold on and it would be. I said it's just different. I was, like only once before in this life, broken-hearted. My voice couldn't hold the pain, and my throat couldn't handle the ball of tears. Still my eyes burned, dry as dust. I trust my premonitions, so why am I scared? I trust my premonitions, maybe it's why I'm scared.

Now I want to be far away, oh so very far away. I want to be lost at sea, out in the vast ocean of life. Drifting. I * I was an empty vessel, alone and done. I want to sink, I am. Sinking.
I hate this.

Bleeding

2005-02-07T20:52:00.000-08:00

Waiting for you to call. Holding my breath again. Did you know that when you come near me I am lost in my own skin. I am overwhelmed. Did you know that you are the irresistible flame, the undeniable desire? Did you know that you will destroy me just as you gave me life. I am forgetting that you are the lucky one, I am letting go of that which I struggled for. I am the foolish queen who so willingly will marry away her kingdom, for there is nothing I wouldn't do. No pain I wouldn't endure, no hurt I wouldn't take more of.
Did you know that I am strong? No you didn't, because with you I am not. How is that? How is it that you undo the fortress I have built? What guard was sleeping, what shift not covered that such a predator could enter these walls? What black magic is it that you possess which could cloak you and aid you in finding this deeply burred hide out?
Disenchant me, disconnect me, let me go. I'm bleeding.
Bleeding is believing. I used to.
Bleeding is believing, I do.

Hearing Heaven

2005-01-30T01:14:00.000-08:00

"I'm sorry." I say my head lowered to her lap, my lips brushing her beautifully delicate fingers. "It was never my intentions to make you angry." I lift her hand in my own, kissing it gently along the knuckles, unfolding her ring finger and closing my mouth around it. Twist my tongue around her finger and move slowly to the next. Still holding that hand I move to her other, which is resting between her legs. I run my tongue over the back of her hand, pause at the rough material of her jeans and then ~ breathing deep ~ I bite at the jeans. I back up and look her in the eye.
She smiles, "You want to?"
"I've been wanting to, now I'm dying to." We kiss again, her hands loosen from my own, she guides me up to stand in front of her. "I'm not going to beg and I'd like you not to tease me."
She walks me to the folding chair, right ~ so close ~ to the tiny space heater. "Am I not worth begging?"
I laugh a little, "Oh, you are ~ just I shouldn't have to." She giggles at that while she unclips her belt. Her jeans fall and I lean into her. Licking her gently ~ feeling her out.
In only moments the fearof not knowing how to please her is swept away and I've found what will drive her wild. Sucking softly and teasing with the tip of my tongue. The noises she makes sound as if they drift down from heaven above, her nails in my shoulder and her legs trembling ~ I swear I could die in this moment! She moves against me, rocking and crying out. I feel my own pleasure spread hot and quick through my body and my hands grab at her, holding her ass and her thigh.
As she cums her body clinches, her fingers tighten and hold my hair and then she pushes me away. Gasping for air and holding herself. I lift my face to hers. My God, she is even more lovely.
We find each others arms and tangle in them,warm and sweet and good. I could, I could love her. I loved this.
"Thank you." Her voice is small, tiny, and thin. I shake my head. "Yes, thank you. I told you there was nothing to worry about."

I am a lesbian, does that change anything?

In Her Own Words

2005-01-29T00:00:00.000-08:00

"Here I go again . . . Trying to write you another letter. If you only knew how many I started... I feel like being alone, but at the same time I feel like being around somebody. It felt so good to lay on you last night. Warm + safe + comforting. It's like you know what's going on. Even though it's nothing specific + it didn't matter... It's cool though that I don't really have to explain the way I feel to you . . . you just sort of know + understand what's going on in a weird way. Your almost like a part of me. Your mind is sort of like mine, only you help fill in any gaps in thoughts and complete ideas. It's like you make my mind whole. Wherever I lack you fill. I'm not sure there's been anything yet that I didn't know and you couldn't tell me. Maybe it's that you compliment me? Whatever . . . it works so I guess there s no need to figure it out."
27 Jan 05, from Leo.
I'm smiling, thank you.