Lies my mother told me|
[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
[ << Previous 20 ]
[ << Previous 20 ]
|Thursday, May 21st, 2009|
I keep calling with a private number.
When you answer, I hang up.
I'm not doing it to annoy you, I just don't know what to say.
|Monday, July 16th, 2007|
I constantly debate the timeline of my parent's divorce (i was either 2 or three) and my illegitimate half brother's birth (I was about 3) and my mother's baptism to be 'reborn'. Current Mood: calm
|Saturday, April 7th, 2007|
Today I microwaved some pees, just for the sensation. Since then Ive been smelting a burnt caramel like smell whever I go and when ever I get some some colored sugar falls off my lap, I feel Im disolving into madness so now I end this, please.
|Friday, March 23rd, 2007|
|Wednesday, September 13th, 2006|
The Middle Ground
As writers, have you ever found yourself hunting down the middle ground? What I mean is, there is the background of your ideas of who these people are that you are writing about, how you are expecting these situations to work out, and the themes you want to come through in your writing, and there is the foreground that is the action and that is the description of the environs of the scene and all the scene encounters including the appearance and style of the characters. Or vice versa, depending on what you concentrate on as a writer. But the middle ground seems to be the real writing, the mesh of it all together and natural but highly skilled. Is this all Greek to you or do you understand what I mean? How do you best reach your middle ground? Current Mood: giggly
|Friday, September 8th, 2006|
this morning i woke up on top of a mountain with a stuffed rabbit in my pocket. i have no idea how i got here, or whether anyone will ever read this letter, which i wrote in my own blood on the snow. but i'm sorry, you know. i'm only competetive when i know i've already won, because sometimes just not caring is a very strong competition. it's getting cold up here. the sky is going dark. is the stuffed rabbit...moving?
|Wednesday, May 3rd, 2006|
I was born a Unicorn. I missed the Ark, but I could have sworn you'd wait for me.
|Thursday, April 20th, 2006|
"Are you having a long-necked mammal?" You said.
Giraffe right? Long-necked mammal? Giraffe. Jesus. You live in the north of England. Not London. Cockney rhyming slang is for people who come from London only. You try to confuse me don't you?
Go up the apples and pears.
Become brown bread.
|Monday, January 2nd, 2006|
A new rating community. But this one is different, This community is for stoners, drug users, and drinkers. A lot of these rating communities are a bunch of straight edge pussys who say no just because you do drugs. For the ones who do the damn do.
|Tuesday, December 6th, 2005|
My Uncle lived alone, and spent all his time on the phone talking to China and Australia and telemarketers from India. He ordered every electric shaver and memory-foam mattress they advertized on TV, dresses for an imaginary wife. "Just her color", he used to say, smugly. Here was his downfall: he always ended his conversations with these strangers by saying "See you later." I used to make fun of him for this--would he really "see later" some salesman in Brazil who didn't even know his name?--but some time later he DID begin to see them later. It began when he recognized the voice of a pledge collector at the local television station while buying salami at the grocery store. "Bart, Bart James", he said, clapping the man on the shoulder. "I contributed to your station last month." "I remember you," said the man. "You said you'd see me later." My Uncle beamed, proud to me memorable. Then they were everywhere. They appeared on his doorstep ("You SAID you'd see me later!"), were his opponents at the tennis courts ("Oh, what a terrible swing! Who's seeing who later NOW?"). Starving third-world factory workers and bored teenage stockbrokers followed him like a breathing, heckling cape. They grew and grew in number, every person he swore to see later, and they fell upon him, until his face was lost in the mass of real estate agents and environmentalists.
|Thursday, October 20th, 2005|
if calm defined you
We walked on a muddy path, covered in autumn leaves.
We walked in utter silence, only the occasional crunch and snap of gravel and sticks under our feet.
The sun streaked across our faces and the breeze blew my hair into my eyes.
That memory lodged itself in my brain.
It's still stuck, just faded.
Like us. Current Mood: flirty
|Friday, October 7th, 2005|
I want to die under the balloon tree with the word fetus written on my forearm in purple ink.
That'll throw them off. Current Mood: loved
|Tuesday, September 27th, 2005|
I hold artistic license,
on the way I view
Justify it all as poetry
as the camera snaps a shot;
the way I live.
Yet it is
Far from the ideals
the ugly truth
the darker side
behind ever beauty.
That which is purely beautiful,
I destroyed long ago;
too much of what I could never be.
Once I was beautiful,
but I destroyed myself,
I could not bare to be alieve.
I wrote you a note last year, telling you I loved you.
But I burned it, because I was stupid and young and didn't know what love was.
I wrote you a note last month, telling you I missed you.
But I burned it, because I had you right there.
I wrote you a note last night, saying that you would never see me again, because I was going to die.
But I burned it because you made me smile.
I think I'll take the ashes and fertilize the ground to grow a rosebush. Current Mood: calm
I take my life to punish you for not noticing me.
|Tuesday, September 13th, 2005|
if i had to die today i wish that the spice girls could come sing at my funeral.
If i had to die i wish i was going to hell so i can take you with me, motherfucker
If I had to die today I wish I didn't have to die.
if i had to die today i wish i'd die in a freak embroidery accident
|Thursday, August 25th, 2005|
i love daffodils
let me have men about me that are fat;
sleek-headed men, & such as sleep at nights.
yon cassius has a lean & hungry look,
he thinks too much; such men are dangerous.