it's still really painful, to think about her, to go through the necessary rituals of returning stuff....blah. i don't know. better to have loved & lost & all that but god, i just don't know, i just don't know. so easy to destroy a past, so difficult to forget it.

This is the first night that there's been a twinge of autumn in the air, that rich smoky chill that enchants the air in the fall. I love nights like this. I loved waking up this morning, with a sweet, sweet wind slipping through my window, the trees shivering, some sort of essence to the day that made me glad to be drowsing between worlds. The ( Read more... )

so. life. twenty-three years old. adrift, yet firmly grounded. once i felt like a bird who flew too far out over the ocean -- a bird whose wings were exhausted from flying, but couldn't find a single solid bit of anything to settle down on. now, gravity doesn't make me quite as languid, and the fact that we are rotating around the sun and spinning ( Read more... )

well. a crazy busy week. a lot of alcohol and silliness & strange twists & turns. i am trying to take a new approach to life -- more spontaneity, more acting on that voice in my head that urges me to take the plunge.

cigarettes. skeletons. summer. ghosts. the rooms i haunt. up all night brooding in the strong summer reek of the flowers. spectral evenings, vodka & fever-dreams -- here is the world i must face. freezing. naked. alone. august ( Read more... )

music is the best thing. where would i be in my misery without elliot smith? how could I feel expansive and timeless without neutral milk hotel? How could I feel vulnerable & kaleidescopic without coco rosie? where would past relationships have been without the velvet underground and kind of like spitting? how could I ever remember my highschool ( Read more... )

Right now, I have a ghostly look, apparently. People push plates of steaming food at me, cold imported beer. To put the color back in my cheeks. They smile and buy me cigarettes, with an abundance of mercy and concern. They are alarmed by my freaky staring. I cry most in the morning. Morning is when time cuts like a blade, when awareness is a ( Read more... )

 I know what it's like to anoint my inner tides with synthetic sweetness. I know Valentines Day is a popular day to visit the graveyard. I know what it is like to sleep on my feet, while talking, or even while loving. I know how sleep abandons you after you abuse it, and I know I will never wake up the way I once did as a child, when I was on ( Read more... )

Strange gray gunmetal cold day, the wind sheathed in a layer of sadness, immediacy as well. A sort of flicker to the air I haven't felt in a while, the sparkle of being alone, flying through space, singular, all that. I choke on grief from time to time but mostly it's just a sort of appreciation for the mechanations of fate, the kind of awareness ( Read more... )

Goind through a rough time, reading of course is my relief. The following are passages from "Candy" by Luke Davies, a book introduced to me by the incomparably screwy Amy Renz, in a cinderblock box. I relate to so much of the narrator's lack of sense of self and feelings of extraordinary empathy for the trap we're all stuck in. Here's some that are ( Read more... )