Postcards

So, I'm packing today getting ready to go home and in the top drawer of my dresser, I found this scrawled on top of a vocabulary review from environmental science in the eleventh grade, along with pictures of my fashionable friend Tiffany, now a Paul Mitchell stylist, wearing leopard print socks with blue pumas (epic, blackmail-worthy!) and a pin from Germany: "if the universe is chaotic entropy why do we force order?"

Fitting. No answers yet, precocious little self.

I Believe in Horizons Now

Pour A Little Salt, We Were Never Here

I told you to be patient/ I told you to be fine/ I told you to be balanced/ I told you to be kind/ Now all your love is wasted?/ Then who the hell was I?/ Now I'm breaking at the britches/ And at the end of all your lines/ Who will love you?/ Who will fight?/ Who will fall far behind?

I feel your hurt, I think it hums between us or hovers like breath. Osmosis between our bodies, I suppose, permeable brief monuments that they are. How many things close to prayer have been whispered silently for you, earnestly, by this eternal skeptic! I'm amazed at how much pain this causes me; two calendar pages, a few handfuls of weeks, the first Wednesday of November - all just foreign-sounding words that aren't proportionate to what I feel for you. You're still all tore up, though, and need to make your own happiness before you can even begin to worry about anyone else's. What a sweet mess you are.

So Much Time to Forget

El gato climbs outside of my window on Christmas Eve day, what beautiful weather it was, what a lovely kitcat she was, a gray dear, all chirping and purrs.

Why this is in a bar bathroom is beyond me, other than perhaps to mess with the occasional drunk girl that looks up (read: me)

Books and Equations Are Only Part

The older I get, the more I learn and the less I know. This world overwhelms me.

Evergreen

More like the trees and less like the clouds (stop moving around so much)

Furry Burry Babies

My little loves, how I hate to be apart from you.

Arbeit Macht Frei

"The world's greatest reminder - physical reminder - of what we are capable of doing to each other,".





Large Scale, Small Scale

(for everything there is a word/ for everything but this)

The End and the Beginning

All of my friends are scattering like dandelion seeds in the wind.

Henry V

All things are ready if our minds be so.

&

A Day Ending with 'Y'

E to the phemeral. Schmeschmemeral, fefemeral. I'm wearing a turban, practicing my best Death of Marat.

afternoons

the tide rolls in
the tide rolls out
yes, twice a day
and with the tide
may i as well
be washed away

The New Tradition

Isolate (intentionally/unintentionally) one's self on this familial day of thanks. Think of the past year; gather all of the sad things, the incidents that have caused anger, pain and unhappiness, hold them in your chest, gingerly. You have lots of these, don't only remember the big ones, there are small ones too (a child crying in the Winn Dixie with a running nose; angry automobiles at the mall, their brakes screeching; another visit to the Emergency Room where the light glows too green and they hook her up to machines that hum coldly; being spoken down to). Don't dull them down, or make them nostalgic. Just wait. Now, remember all of the beautiful moments spanning the year, the ones that give you hope, meaning and genuine pleasure. Don't skim on these, there are plenty (the way the sun comes through the blinds some bright mornings; a flock of small birds doing aerials in the gray sky; the way a kiss on the back of your neck feels; the tropical feeling of your bathroom after a shower). While it may be easy to glorify your happy instances, don't. Have them in your mind as they were in the world. Pomp and circumstance have no place here. Having seine netted your year, effectively judged a small fragment of your life, divided arbitrarily good from arbitrarily bad, lift your face to the sky; give thanks for the sun on your cheeks and let it all go. What really matters? Today's just a day, and you're just a human and all you have is the right now.

To Have and to Have Not

Three hundred and sixty five plus three hundred and sixty five plus three hundred and sixty five is how much?

On a Saturday

I am waking up on a chair and the heaviness hits me like a truck. Watching your sadness become a verb, the way the corner of your eyes crinkle downwards, how your lips part. If only my eyes were neosporin and a bandaid, not useless and blue, and I could make you whole, or at the very least, a little bit happy.

Friday Musings, While the Sky Outside is Dusky and Gray

We make our lives as we want them to be. I have ten fingers and ten toes, two eyes and a nose.

Thursday's the New Friday

Sleep's the new awake.
Indignant's the new everything..

TODAY

Is the first day of Fall here (!)

But the Carpet is so soft

Such a large amount of happiness contained in such a small space.

(A sliding glass door, a window, a door, a closet, four walls; the sunshine streaming through the curtain, the bookcases full of words that I sometimes understand, sometimes not, the bed where I sleep peacefully and dream imaginatively, and in the corner, an abundance of canvas, paint and wood where I express and create pieces of myself and my views on the world. )

I often wonder how it is that I came to be who I am, and not someone else in a less fortunate situation. Sometimes I feel that unavoidable white middle class Americana guilt, but more often than not I know that it is slightly irrelevant, that there are many far better off than I, loads far worse and just as many on par. It simply is and has always been the state of things. This was a tangent from what I was trying to say, hah - that I don't really think it's the location of your life, or the amount of goods you posess, but rather the outlook you have and the connections you create with people. I think this is stemming from the visit my family paid me yesterday - I was and still am reberverating with this happiness from seeing them, because it is such a rare occurance.

Oh, oh!

I'm a smitten kitten, listenin' to Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grapelli :}

Mittwoch

Winning You with Words

On the porch, the box of a bookcase built creates a shadow that falls on the window, to the blinds inside, vertical stripes of shadow, divided by the twelve square panes. Irrelevant observation on an irrelevant Tuesday morning. I'm not a cynic, just a realistic wee ant.

TGIF

Last night was the UNF Faculty show at MOCA. What a great turn out, and what interesting work. I was especially impressed by Anna McLellan's delicate graphite drawings, they were so tiny and beautiful. Everyone looked lovely all dolled up, and, I must admit, it's always entertaining seeing one's professors sloshed. It was also my friend Emily's twenty third birthday, and we had a night BBQ and pool party, even though it rained. Our friend Trish is back in town for the weekend, for her own birthday, and it was wonderful to see her. I miss her imminent sass and sardonic humor echoing off the walls of the photo lab. Lots of fabulous things happening within such a short amount of time! How happy I am!

Camp Out

This is a song for the one that I love
I haven’t met them yet
But I’m quietly confident

Although what if like you said
All I’m looking for
It doesn’t exist
Oh I have to believe it does.

What!?!?

Christine's comment in regards to necrophilia: "Don't hate the player, hate the game". I'm dying laughing right now. Oh, dying? Also, Arthur responds to the names 'Crack Pipe', 'Antonio Banderas', and 'Snow Pile Atop Bank of Dirt'. This we discovered while theorizing what his name was before we adopted his furry little self (the last is his Native American name, that's my favorite, as I coined it). Christine really wanted it to be Dale Earnhart... oh well.

Magritte, Merci

Yesterday

I skipped my least favorite class, and Christine and Lauren skipped their print class, and we went on a bike ride. We rode for ages, under the overpass, way down Gate Parkway, past new ideal-suburbia apartments being built, past the library and ended up at a darling little coffe place. It had a catchy name, but I've forgotten it momentarily. I ate half of a sandwich Christine had brought, we all got tea and it was a spur of the moment little picnic, at a random place on a blustery day. On the way back we noticed a lake a ways off the road, down a hill. So we rode our bikes down the hill, and traipsed back there for a bit, just exploring, wondering why Jacksonville pine trees are all planted in straight lines. Then, before we left, we rode our bikes down the hill again, three times, for good measure, because it was terribly fun. We decided to explore a side of the contruction area, too, and played on those big concrete pipes, the circle ones you can fit in? They were so heavy we couldn't even move them, so we just ran around jumping from pipe to pipe. Then some men from the contruction site came over, to leave I guess, as it was a side exit. I don't think they spoke English, but they were looking at us rather strangely, so we took it to be a good time to leave, which we did, and it was. We rode back home in 5 o'clock traffic, and the adventure was pronounced magnificent by all three of us. Magnificent.

They do

Today was a good day. The sky was blue and I was smiling often. Maybe blondes do have more fun? I'm going to go to the library to filch some music and then running, but I will leave part of a poem that I'm enamored with of late:

"If Christ had died in a hallway we might pray in hallways
or wear little golden hallways around our necks"

(I don't understand my ever more frequent ups and downs, but I won't question the ups when they're here)

Countdown County

Makes me bitter like a coffee bean (is what I'll leave it at, after half an hour's worth of typing and deleting, on that subject.)
Mama turned 53.

Christine dyed my hair blonde Saturday night. Picture me marigold-tressed on my keyboard typing, and laugh, because it's not fitting at all, this strawberry blonde state of mind in the midst of my recent dark wallowings.

even in blackouts

I was sitting here in my apartment a few minutes ago, the electricity having been out for at least half an hour, and on the phone with my mamacita, said something ending with 'even in blackouts'. Which made me think of being in a new, red (or was it silver?) Volkswagen at the age of fifteen, sliding around the backseat because it was being driven far too fast and hearing said band after an afternoon at the beach. In fact, I'm pretty sure my swimsuit was full of sand. Anyhow, what I'm trying to say is that Arthur's sitting on the new (old) couch Christine and I bought Friday, and that I don't believe in much of anything at all. Especially memory, and foreign cars.

Recent Things

Art Fest 09! In the painting room that I (wo)manned all night. And the fog that's been hanging around recently, so pretty at night.

You Look Different

How do I explain?

Januar, Januar, har har har

Well, I haven't much felt like posting lately, or talking to anyone, or hanging out even, I've been in a debbie downer kind of mood and I can only attribute it to this wretched month of January, and the abundance of gray days lately. Eff January though, seriously. It gets me every year.

Love of my Life

Arthur Dentsy being a silly goose :}

This field

Knows me well.

And so and so and so

Today I went to a yoga class that my friend Nikki teaches. Usually I'm not into being brave and exercising in public, but I'm actually really glad that I went, it was amazing. I'm pretty terrible at yoga, but that wasn't the point so much; I just felt concentrated for once, instead of my mind being on ten things at the same time. Only thinking about the breath inside of you, and the balance of your body is surprisingly all consuming in a marvelous kind of way. I looked over across the class once, towards the end, and it was so neat seeing probably twenty or so people with their bodies all the exact same way. I felt unified with everyone there, despite us all being strangers. This sounds pretty stupid and ridiculously new-agey, but I really enjoyed it is what I'm saying, I suppose, haha. After that I went downtown to the farmer's market with my friend Emily and got some grapes and amazing red peppers that I can't wait to cook with. She got honey tangelos and tomatoes. It was brisk out so we didn't meander, which I usually like to do there because the colors of the fruits and vegetables are so pretty, and the people are always strange and interesting to talk to.

Grey

Appleseed

A twin sized bed and your uncomfortable arms encircling me? I am not sure how these things happen.

Starting the year off with a bang

Good thing I'm only moderately narcissistic, right? Right.