this won't make sense unless a light bulb broke and the mercury got to your head

We laugh at people falling from the sky because their landing is so soft. But our own falls are cushioned by solid oak coffee tables, cement sidewalks, and, yes, even the occasional glass ceilings.

You look at me with sad eyes, I know. And those funny lips of yours can't hide a thing.

We're in the same place; I dream of police and thieves. They are all so confident.

We're in the same place, alone; Their guns and ammunition never used, not once. They were so confident.

(Hold the cord above your head, sometimes that helps the light to work because there's a short.)

It's just a natural phenomenon. Objects with mass attract one another.

And I guess that's how my cosmos came crashing down.

Why is it that I keep imagining my brain to be made of Gak? You all remember Gak, right?

My paper is finished, but the stimulants ingested in order to help me finish my paper are still going strong. Well, not that strong, actually. I am, sadly, getting quite used to anything caffeinated. My tolerance level is at an all-time high. My ability to resist caffeine is at an all-time low. I am probably tired all the time, but do not know it because of the chemicals chemicals chemicals. But fear not, reader(s)-- this week I plan on feasting on food, not stimulants. My body, my brain, and my bloodstream need a break before they breakdown.

Speaking of breaking down, let me break it down for you. Here is completely useless information about me that is in no way necessary for you to know. So stop reading right now. Go log on to Facebook and change your status instead. It will quite honestly be time better spent.

What are the names of all the roommates I have had in my life so far?

Allison, Emily, some girl whose name I can't recall, really nice girl from Denmark whose name I also cannot recall, Ellen, Erin, Ashleigh, Laura, Hannah, Georgiana, Holly, Chaunte, Alissa, Jack, Jennifer, Greg

Why has it taken you so long to think of another useless question?

Because my brain has been sucked dry and all I can concentrate on is the sound of the clock.

Does that clock exist?

It did a second ago-- now two seconds ago-- oh, three seconds. Yes, three four five seconds six ago it seven existed. Eight.

...Seven ate nine?

Scary, don't.

Time for you to make tomorrow's lunch.

Thanks for the reminder. And tomorrow owns lunch?

Appears so.

Nothing is as it--

Oh don't start.

Fine. I am going to publish this now, man, and you can't stop me.

Why would I? You're publishing me, after all. And there's no such thing as bad press.

EXACTLY. You're saying bad press doesn't exist, right? Because you're right. Yeah, nothing exists, you know?

Hey, look-- I know nothing because I am just your blog. You create me.

I just did.

the healthiest state in the union and perfect for lovers

I don't want to be one of those people that say, "Oh, no one reads my blog because no one ever comments on my blog," because that's just a passive aggressive way to get people to comment. Right? Am I messing up the meaning of "passive aggressive"? Anyway, I don't want to be one of those people, BUT...

Yeah, it doesn't matter. No one HAS to leave a comment. Who am I writing for anyway? Myself? You? Joe the Plumber? Are you Joe the Plumber? Who here wants Joe the Plumber to "fit your pipe"? Who here doesn't understand what that means? That's what I thought.

I want this:

But is this realistic? Maybe. Actually, it's pretty damn realistic. But it will have to wait. In the meantime, I need to be okay with right now. I need to be okay with the deadlines and the late nights and the sighs and the shaky hands. Because what good will it do to put all of my hopes into the 14x14 cabin if it's on the other side of the country? It will just lead to attachment and inevitable disappointment when I realize that the grass is, indeed, not always greener.

I still want it, though.

fuzzy thoughts at 1:02pm

*Imagine a tabby cat eating a pan of lasagna in record time. Funny, right? I am thinking of making this very idea into a long-running comic strip titled "Lasagna Cat of the Future: One Cat's Journey Into the Future."

*I had a beautiful Sunday yesterday with my beautiful Jack. He really is so pretty. I wish I looked like him. I know, I know, "get a room, you guys." But I really think he has such a pretty face. Just look at it.

*One day I am going to do yoga regularly. And meditate regularly. And drink prune juice so I can go regularly. ONE DAY.

*"Mmmm... You taste like electrolytes."

*Last night I had some crazy deep thoughts about X-rays.

*Total number of Vermont license plates seen this weekend: 3. I think.

nighttime impressions 1

dream of plane crashes to france
my dead grandmother winking at me
that mole on her face not there
when she was alive or when i was
awake. the street light says
stop traffic, go you wanderer
but don't wander too far because
some cars are moving so just
wander in a straight line and if
you write wander too much too often
too all-at-once (seconds apart) it
looks much too weird (unless the
letters aren't written in a straight
line). give it to me crooked like the
hills you imagine running away to.
but aren't those hills just north
of france? can you take a bus
to get there? because time permits
and planes crash a lonely crash.
i'm much too ego driven to keep
my hands on the wheel.
it's a yellow light-- now what?

promise, numbers 1-6

I promise to have a good day today, despite the snow. I promise to be healthy, or at least relatively so. I promise to be nicer, such as not bad mouthing girls who went to my high school. I promise to take things slowly, mindfully, holy. I promise to take at least a twenty minute nap at some point in the next 12 hours. I promise to be okay.

let's all read a book, okay?

Good lord.

I will admit something right here right now. Although I am incredibly busy, I somehow just spent the last half hour looking at blogs of girls I went to high school with.

Good lord.

Let's just say I don't know how Jack and I survived good old PGHS.

I could say a million more things (well, probably 5-12 more things), but I will stop before I sound like an even bigger brat.

I love everyone.

Biting my tongue.

Everyone is awesome.

Blood in my mouth.

17 September 2009

I don't expect to be inspired tonight (and the nerve I have beginning each poem with "I" and forever speaking of tonights). The constant adrenaline stream of today has emptied into the ocean where I'm stuck. The rain just moves me around (even my handwriting is slow and deliberate and meant to be tidy and this was meant to be waterproof paper but then it would be less of paper) and more of tonight will bleed into tomorrow. Catching reflections off the waves and these water metaphors are just barely enough to drown out the sound of a (Quick! Someone! A bucket of--yes--water and soon! This lack of poetry will set the whole house ablaze!)

my brain: an american hero, an american treasure, an american idiot

It's about that time of night when I feel like my brain has fallen asleep standing up. In other words, the television is on in my brain, but it's just static. In other words, my brain is wearing footie pajamas and sleepwalking into a loud party in some hip downtown loft where the drinks are served with Red Bull. In other words, my brain logs on, but then watches the screensaver. In other words, if my brain were on drugs, it would be on caffeine. In other words, this is my brain. And this is my brain on caffeine. Any questions? No, this is not a vegan fried egg. This is a totally egg-ful egg, fried until nothing is left but dust dust American dust.

my future home

Desolation, desolation, I owe so much to desolation.