I'd like to fast-forward, please.
Fast-forward through
stepping back on
public transportation
sitting & yawning
in an art lecture
walking home
uphill
and back here again
to put some songs on the radio
that no one wants to hear
while my friends are at a concert
listening to songs
and cheering.
My diet can't consist of kisses, corn chips, and false hope
alone.
Suddenly, I'm my cat, mewing half-desperately behind her food dish,
I'M STARVING
(for attention)
the minute you leave the room,
the second my bowl is empty.
Someone, push the button.
9.27.2007
9.25.2007
Again - 2 more new poems
Describe
-a writing exercise-
My favorite sweater is thick, black, and woolly; always warm
Angus Young is on stage in a t-shirt and jeans
leaving the country for two years with a complete stranger
Rudy's tail was like a worm, his ears constantly twitching
A rat dons a school-boy uniform
I'm the orange peel on the cafeteria floor,
or the sawdust sprinkled on fresh vomit.
My street began quiet, but houses and children grew up around us
The beloved ice cream truck grew wings,
started pedaling steaks instead of confections, while
Foghorn Leghorn punched Teddy Roosevelt in the neck
and my big brother kept stomping on towering anthills
Afternoon Reverie
The softly-prickling, shady-cool
slope of the lawn
fits like a puzzle piece
into the small of your back.
I close my eyes
as the sunlight,
pouring like slow, warm butter,
shifts over our skin.
This is the part where
you roll over and kiss me, all fireworks & desire,
with my eyelids still drawn -
and my fingers find
handfuls of auburn hair
and make a nest there,
like a pale, cooing bird.
-a writing exercise-
My favorite sweater is thick, black, and woolly; always warm
Angus Young is on stage in a t-shirt and jeans
leaving the country for two years with a complete stranger
Rudy's tail was like a worm, his ears constantly twitching
A rat dons a school-boy uniform
I'm the orange peel on the cafeteria floor,
or the sawdust sprinkled on fresh vomit.
My street began quiet, but houses and children grew up around us
The beloved ice cream truck grew wings,
started pedaling steaks instead of confections, while
Foghorn Leghorn punched Teddy Roosevelt in the neck
and my big brother kept stomping on towering anthills
Afternoon Reverie
The softly-prickling, shady-cool
slope of the lawn
fits like a puzzle piece
into the small of your back.
I close my eyes
as the sunlight,
pouring like slow, warm butter,
shifts over our skin.
This is the part where
you roll over and kiss me, all fireworks & desire,
with my eyelids still drawn -
and my fingers find
handfuls of auburn hair
and make a nest there,
like a pale, cooing bird.
9.24.2007
2 New Poems
Another Day Has Come To An End
September 24th, 2007
I’ve become
a dull brown-haired girl
staring at
two unread books
and six over-played records,
spinning slowly through the evening.
Four candles,
flickering from fan blades,
burn in my living room,
and three white ceramic mugs
of wine later,
part of me hopes
that something will
catch fire
when I’m not looking.
Muffin
September 11th, 2007
Eating an (awful) blueberry muffin
alone,
at five-seventeen in the evening
almost places me
(with the softest, gentlest of hands)
into a state
of nervous breakdown.
No part of this library
belongs to me, and
I’m on the edge,
of everything,
all the time.
I push my fingertip into moist crumbs -
I paid good money for this
desperate attempt
to recreate happiness.
September 24th, 2007
I’ve become
a dull brown-haired girl
staring at
two unread books
and six over-played records,
spinning slowly through the evening.
Four candles,
flickering from fan blades,
burn in my living room,
and three white ceramic mugs
of wine later,
part of me hopes
that something will
catch fire
when I’m not looking.
Muffin
September 11th, 2007
Eating an (awful) blueberry muffin
alone,
at five-seventeen in the evening
almost places me
(with the softest, gentlest of hands)
into a state
of nervous breakdown.
No part of this library
belongs to me, and
I’m on the edge,
of everything,
all the time.
I push my fingertip into moist crumbs -
I paid good money for this
desperate attempt
to recreate happiness.
9.23.2007
Offend In Every Way
A conundrum:
Consider yourself shy, and others will probably judge you as being snobby, an asshole, or ignorant, all because you don't always say what you're thinking.
Become confident and you'll still get called an asshole, because you're assertive.
I'm not sure what's worse - to be quiet and to be quietly judged,
or to be open & honest, even if you make some enemies while doing so.
Unrelated note:
I don't care if it's lame - "Tiny Vessels" and "Someday You Will Be Loved" by Death Cab make me choke up. Almost every time.
Consider yourself shy, and others will probably judge you as being snobby, an asshole, or ignorant, all because you don't always say what you're thinking.
Become confident and you'll still get called an asshole, because you're assertive.
I'm not sure what's worse - to be quiet and to be quietly judged,
or to be open & honest, even if you make some enemies while doing so.
Unrelated note:
I don't care if it's lame - "Tiny Vessels" and "Someday You Will Be Loved" by Death Cab make me choke up. Almost every time.
9.07.2007
I wish you could bury memories in a time capsule.
Quixotic notions are what I do best.
If you consistently & consciously set yourself up for disappointment, your life will be full of pleasant little surprises!
Don't sit home alone with a plateful of freshly-baked cupcakes sitting in the kitchen.
Having people critique one of my poems for half an hour makes me feel like I'm sitting in a psychologist's office.
My daily life has reached a point where meals are the most exciting part of my day.
I also put off going to bed, so that I can sleep in later & the days will go by more quickly.
When I think of Autumn, I imagine myself wearing a scarf and going on walks with glowing pink cheeks. In reality, I'll still be sitting here.
Quixotic notions are what I do best.
If you consistently & consciously set yourself up for disappointment, your life will be full of pleasant little surprises!
Don't sit home alone with a plateful of freshly-baked cupcakes sitting in the kitchen.
Having people critique one of my poems for half an hour makes me feel like I'm sitting in a psychologist's office.
My daily life has reached a point where meals are the most exciting part of my day.
I also put off going to bed, so that I can sleep in later & the days will go by more quickly.
When I think of Autumn, I imagine myself wearing a scarf and going on walks with glowing pink cheeks. In reality, I'll still be sitting here.
Quixotic notions are what I do best.
9.04.2007
It's Tuesday.
My all-time favorite song to listen to while bike-riding is none other than Purple Bottle by Animal Collective.
It's sort of lengthy, which means you have just enough time to daydream, and it's upbeat enough that you don't want to stop pedaling.
Really, I just think Feels is a great album overall to listen to while outdoors, or at least riding in a car with the windows down. (So is Strawberry Jam, but unfortunately, I have some slightly negative connotations with that album now, so I'll have to wait a bit before I can really enjoy it out in the sunshine).
I don't know if I want to be buried when I die.
I don't really want to lie and rot, but at the same time, the whole coffin-and-flowers-and-tombstone bit does have slightly romantic overtones. Someone weeping on a patch of soil and hugging a slab of cold granite in memory of me isn't totally unappealing.
Then again, being cremated might not be too bad. I mean, I could sit on a mantle somewhere and be part of everyday life in that house, and absorb the odors from Thursday nights' lasagna dinners.
I don't want to assume that I have a lot of time to consider & think about these things. Maybe I'll just stick with mummification.
Few things are better than reaching into a box of cereal that has marshmallows (like Lucky Charms) and pulling out a big clump of just the little marshmallow things. Pure, sugary heaven.
It's sort of lengthy, which means you have just enough time to daydream, and it's upbeat enough that you don't want to stop pedaling.
Really, I just think Feels is a great album overall to listen to while outdoors, or at least riding in a car with the windows down. (So is Strawberry Jam, but unfortunately, I have some slightly negative connotations with that album now, so I'll have to wait a bit before I can really enjoy it out in the sunshine).
I don't know if I want to be buried when I die.
I don't really want to lie and rot, but at the same time, the whole coffin-and-flowers-and-tombstone bit does have slightly romantic overtones. Someone weeping on a patch of soil and hugging a slab of cold granite in memory of me isn't totally unappealing.
Then again, being cremated might not be too bad. I mean, I could sit on a mantle somewhere and be part of everyday life in that house, and absorb the odors from Thursday nights' lasagna dinners.
I don't want to assume that I have a lot of time to consider & think about these things. Maybe I'll just stick with mummification.
Few things are better than reaching into a box of cereal that has marshmallows (like Lucky Charms) and pulling out a big clump of just the little marshmallow things. Pure, sugary heaven.
8.31.2007
Running late.
Songs from M.I.A.'s album Kala, in order from my most favorite to least:
1. Come Around (features Timbaland)
2. Bird Flu
3. Boyz
4. $20
5. Bamboo Banger
6. Hussel
7. Jimmy
8. Down River
9. XR2
10. The Turn
11. Mango Pickle Down River (This song would be perfectly good if it wasn't for the singing chipmunks or whatever the hell is going on)
12. Paper Planes (Again, I like this song until the chorus kicks in. Then I just wish the machine guns would take me out, too)
SOMEONE TRY TO ARGUE WITH ME ABOUT THIS LIST.
Imaginary monologue:
"Maybe you can catch up to me, in the total number of people you've slept with, and then we can have meetings where we sit around and hate each other and ourselves, and our need for empty affairs, because the only purpose they serve is to act as an affirmation that we aren't utter monsters, or at least, that we can still hide our ugly selves from strangers, if only for one night."
Vegetable cream cheese is delicious on pretzels, chips, bagels (of course), and probably anything else you can think of. It also stays fresh for a lot longer than I expected...which makes me somewhat suspicious.
My cat has been uncharacteristically affectionate lately. Maybe she feels guilty for killing the birds, after all.
As much as everyone complains about sweating and the humidity, I swear I'm the only one that I ever see actually sweating.
I used a turntable during my radio shift for the first time last night! Some guy called in and requested "any Grateful Dead song" for his friend's bachelor party. Suddenly, I felt responsible for these guys' good time. I was always terrified of using one on-air, because I wasn't sure how to start a song exactly at the beginning. I tried it out beforehand and I thought I had it down...but when the time came to start up "Sugar Magnolia", my hands were shaking and I dropped the needle on the end of the 3rd track instead of the beginning of the 4th. Real smooth, right? I just told myself that it was sort of like an intro.
Plans for this weekend: party, meet Michael, watch the game on TV, party, see some local bands, sleep at one point or another, tell Michael goodbye, suddenly remember all of my homework, continue to put off homework until the last minute.
1. Come Around (features Timbaland)
2. Bird Flu
3. Boyz
4. $20
5. Bamboo Banger
6. Hussel
7. Jimmy
8. Down River
9. XR2
10. The Turn
11. Mango Pickle Down River (This song would be perfectly good if it wasn't for the singing chipmunks or whatever the hell is going on)
12. Paper Planes (Again, I like this song until the chorus kicks in. Then I just wish the machine guns would take me out, too)
SOMEONE TRY TO ARGUE WITH ME ABOUT THIS LIST.
Imaginary monologue:
"Maybe you can catch up to me, in the total number of people you've slept with, and then we can have meetings where we sit around and hate each other and ourselves, and our need for empty affairs, because the only purpose they serve is to act as an affirmation that we aren't utter monsters, or at least, that we can still hide our ugly selves from strangers, if only for one night."
Vegetable cream cheese is delicious on pretzels, chips, bagels (of course), and probably anything else you can think of. It also stays fresh for a lot longer than I expected...which makes me somewhat suspicious.
My cat has been uncharacteristically affectionate lately. Maybe she feels guilty for killing the birds, after all.
As much as everyone complains about sweating and the humidity, I swear I'm the only one that I ever see actually sweating.
I used a turntable during my radio shift for the first time last night! Some guy called in and requested "any Grateful Dead song" for his friend's bachelor party. Suddenly, I felt responsible for these guys' good time. I was always terrified of using one on-air, because I wasn't sure how to start a song exactly at the beginning. I tried it out beforehand and I thought I had it down...but when the time came to start up "Sugar Magnolia", my hands were shaking and I dropped the needle on the end of the 3rd track instead of the beginning of the 4th. Real smooth, right? I just told myself that it was sort of like an intro.
Plans for this weekend: party, meet Michael, watch the game on TV, party, see some local bands, sleep at one point or another, tell Michael goodbye, suddenly remember all of my homework, continue to put off homework until the last minute.
8.29.2007
5 Minutes To Spill
-Florida's Natural Fruit Juice Nuggets are delicious, but couldn't they at least try to make them look more appetizing? I feel like I'm eating some sort of pet food.
-I think I'm wearing a hole through my laptop's trackpad.
-I get mad at my cat for killing birds, and then I remember that my dog used to kill cats, so I let it go.
-I keep drinking wine in the evenings, thinking it will put me in a better mood and motivate me to be more creative with my homework. I just end up weeping, going to bed, and not doing any homework. It's easy to blame the wine.
-My upstairs neighbors still have a bowl of mine. The longer I go without asking for it back, the weirder I imagine it will be when I actually do. I feel like I need to make up an excuse for why I suddenly need it after three months - "I decided to eat cereal this morning, but I just can't allow myself to enjoy Captain Crunch unless I'm eating it from a black bowl. Speaking of black bowls - you still have mine, right?"
-I'd like to record a new song sometime, but I'm afraid to ask about borrowing someone's microphone, because that puts pressure on me to actually record something of value (or anything at all).
-I'm probably the only one who does this, but sometimes while I'm talking to someone, I suddenly think about how I'm the only one talking - and how they're listening to just me - and it sort of freaks me out. I lose all train of thought and start to get embarrassed.
-Most of the time when I write poetry, I realize that I'm really writing it for someone else to read. For tonight's assignment - fuck that.
-I think I'm wearing a hole through my laptop's trackpad.
-I get mad at my cat for killing birds, and then I remember that my dog used to kill cats, so I let it go.
-I keep drinking wine in the evenings, thinking it will put me in a better mood and motivate me to be more creative with my homework. I just end up weeping, going to bed, and not doing any homework. It's easy to blame the wine.
-My upstairs neighbors still have a bowl of mine. The longer I go without asking for it back, the weirder I imagine it will be when I actually do. I feel like I need to make up an excuse for why I suddenly need it after three months - "I decided to eat cereal this morning, but I just can't allow myself to enjoy Captain Crunch unless I'm eating it from a black bowl. Speaking of black bowls - you still have mine, right?"
-I'd like to record a new song sometime, but I'm afraid to ask about borrowing someone's microphone, because that puts pressure on me to actually record something of value (or anything at all).
-I'm probably the only one who does this, but sometimes while I'm talking to someone, I suddenly think about how I'm the only one talking - and how they're listening to just me - and it sort of freaks me out. I lose all train of thought and start to get embarrassed.
-Most of the time when I write poetry, I realize that I'm really writing it for someone else to read. For tonight's assignment - fuck that.
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