Man. She had it down exactly! It blew my soul! I wanted to fucking congratulate her on being aware of the ridiculousness that is a posse of sorts. To explain the people well, the story goes like this:

While everyone else leaves a party at around 12 or 1 to go and you know, eh eh, they just think that it is naturally okay to just pass out on the couch at the place their at currently. No thoughts about it.

That, my friends as McCain might say, is the story and the moral too. It's pretty fine how each group of friends has their own unspoken rules but it also is silly how each group can end up fairly unhealthy after too much time spent together. Not unhealthy, but your reality changes depending on who you have around you for long periods of time. You don't change but your reality and how you perceive things may. It was both comforting and unnerving to see this in other groups of relationships besides my own.

We really should all try and stay 20 for a while. I'm not sure anyone can prepare for the following years.

And, on another note, Cal, I totally DO have autism and am schizophrenic guuurrrl. Self diagnosed.

It's so funny how complex we all are. It would be great to just sit someone down and say, 'hey, lets just be honest and real and speak like real people instead of monsters or actors or pretense!'.

Black and whites

"They say you are free, but you must learn to choose"

-8 1/2 by Fellini. A pretty incredible line.

9-5 boo.

Having a job is pretty lame. I mean, being a productive human being every day from 9-5 without any choice is pretty lame. And I can't really believe I'm going to have to do this for life. It's weird and it sucks how much my co-workers piss me off sometimes. I'm really fucking tired, I want to go home, and I want to smoke a lot of dope, and I want to have nothing to do for about 10 days straight (but only if my mind is quiet, please) :).

Plus, I keep thinking of that face and it still makes me want to barf. I hate him but I think it is sort of misdirected hatred of the self. Either way, I wish there was a device to blow things out of your mind, to pick and choose which people and places you want to forget. It's making me sad today that I am so stressed about a job that isn't even my career and a person that isn't even a person.

I'm seeing Whose Afraid of Virginia Wolfe this weekend though with just about the most badass of girls I've met in a long butt time. I think I'll love it and it will make me want to get married that night and be an alcoholic too, making up fantasy children and living on a ranch with my slender one.

Granola and kiddie laughter

Honestly, it's beautiful. You are beautiful. We sit outside, inside, on the floor, maybe in a chair, we laugh our asses off at shit that isn't funny. We forget to put water in the bong and wonder why it hurts so bad. I fall to the floor laughing, and it is genuinely the funniest shit that I think I've ever heard or experienced.

Your face is tangible and real to me and I think, hon, I'll marry you for it.

Okay?

Oh my jesus

fucking Christ fucking shit! Technology can suck my hairy balls.

old-ness, kid.

Crept under the wrath of my own hand, the one with the fake tattoo, ink bleeding diseases.
Lying in a naked bed, with one phone call to make and bandaged hands to show for the effort. I painted you green, for the color of speed and underrated glory.
I don't want to hurt you, or maybe I just don't want to watch.
If I was far away from here, my body would still follow wouldn't it? I know it would and you would too but on a different plane. And if I see him again, I may scream without using words and bite the lips of god,
right out from under him.

Smelly

Bent over, in a quiet tumble, telling stories of old neighborhoods and mouldy cheese with wine last Saturday night.
No one makes it through these windy streets, not like they used to anyway.
Stop, inhale, the air is thick like your monogrammed towels. I wash myself with them, terrorizing sleep and blemishing a melon dew face.
Go rest, ignore time for as long as you can (forever?) and I will tell you,
no one will come running to stop the clock.
Did you even pay them for it?

Indifference?

The silhouette of my fingertips has changed.
Lacking in finality of shape.
Did you give that to me? Or do I give you too much credit?
I can't write now. I hear the "click, click" of the typewriter, and see how effortlessly thoughts can breed independent syllables. Or can they even breed their own ink, black and thick?
Thoughts seem disabled today, though. Fuck! Maybe they've experimented with that god damn heroin again? Or maybe they just dreamt it.
Being constantly restless doesn't help with definition and having no one to take my mind off it doesn't help much either.
I should figure out why I hate you, cuz I do. And I guess there are people out there who hate me too.
I want you in my lungs still, or what if I sweat you out of my pours? That's what it feels like!
Exactly.
Like you're pushing through me, penetrating, my skin tries to keep you in. I wish you wanted to stay there.
I smell like alcohol again.
Who are we kidding thinking we could be Buddhist?
"Click, click"
Who knew you could delete mistakes? Maybe that typewriter is smarter than I am.

Crab and Ice cubes in yo face.

I feel this weird shit all over.

Like not knowing where to fit.

Unreasonable fear, I know!

You are right. It's not fair. I was not fair. It's hard to realize that feeling of being sola is a constant one that everyone in life feels in the pit of their stomachs. In the end, we hope that we find people who will impact our lives, hope to find people with passion, people who hate like you hate, people who fuck like you fuck, people who laugh like you laugh. But living is ultimately an individual process. Fuck,
that's obvious. But it's not to me. Crutches galore, you said to me! And I know it and it's time to let go of it. Be fair to those around you.

Life is singular. And pleasant, and the feeling in the pit of my stomach is there forever but it doesn't mean its intent is to stop you from living.

Single, single, single, we live all in the same world together.

I'm not going anywhere till my head is straight on my body, where it's supposed to sit. You are you there and here and minutes from now and years later. Understanding is overrated but taking yourself seriously CANNOT be!

A process, no doubt, but love! You and I will find our ways and learn to take ourselves seriously in one way or another. Separate forever, well fuck that! It doesn't mean a thing and I'm sorry I made you think it does. We're different but we love and love and love.

So go do something serious, mkay?
:)

t'accordas cuando nos fuimos al cielo solo para hablar un ratito? Fuimos juntos, charlando con dios y todo que habia en la calle. Yo, yo me acuerdo bien.

Father

The 4 agreements. Maybe he's actually right. It seems pretty ridiculous to me but at this point, I'll give them a try. The thing is, it's hard to hear someone like my father say that people are capable of change. He has been the same for so many years and I haven't seen much growth. If he thinks he has changed, then we are all really in the shitter. Sometimes, he surprises me with his warmth. Last night, in the cold, we sat out front of Sinai hospital on one of the benches and did not speak. I never know what to say to him. I think I'd probably just like to scream. He always asks the same questions because he doesn't know how else to get me to speak. My favorite is, "So...who are you hanging out with these days?". No one dad, next question?

And then I got upset at her...and I've got to apologize.

I feel the loss of 1 thousand men and I know I am dramatic. You were never meant to be a tease but you fill mountains upon mountains of imagery in my sleep.
And yes, we are all supposed to be alone. Come in that way and leave the same they say. But,
I came in so close to you. Our fingers criss crossed, X marks the bloody spot, we can't get them to link together now, to set time straight.
Remember in the young days, (still younger than we are now) when swings meant marriage and tag meant love and sweaty kisses on the cheek.
I guess you're IT! But don't let me catch you.
(I won't)
And I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Life lost and separate we may fall, in pieces of thin string.

Now that is reality. Was mine and yours.

Idiomas de mis suenos.

It is so god damn mother fucking strange. She is so far away and we were so close. Now, we look at each others pictures and write notes to one another but we don't know each other anymore. I want to visit all the people I miss. Each one their own character and each one now living their lives completely differently than the next. I remember how she would laugh and with a look of innocent shock say, "Hay!! Boluuudda!" after I would speak. I always saying something obscure and out of her cultural boundaries. We loved each other intensely. I hope we'll see each other again soon.

Naropa seems so far away and like a step of total ignorance on my part. I could go to U of B for the equivalent of what Naropa is for just one year. That is truly ridiculous. And I guess place shouldn't matter but it does to me even if I don't want it to. I fucking hated UMBC. I hated the buildings, I hated the teachers, I hated the shit people said in class. But maybe I was just in a generally hateful place then and I could get better at not being such a dick. Then again, I want to be with people who are consciously making the decision to take themselves out of the general population and instead, are opting to live in a different sort of community. I like the idea that everyone there has probably felt rejected and shunned from most of the rest of society.

In other news.

The debates lit my cigarette last night. Not cuz they were that great...just because I want to marry Obawsome. I had this stupid grin stuck on my face whenever he spoke. Yup, that man was speaking to ME personally. I think it's about time for some new countries though, ya know? I mean, we're all so done with all the ones that currently exist. We've all sucked and failed and shit man, lets make a new one. A fucking cool one that you have to write some great essay to get in and fuck passports and shit as long as you bring some beer and a really good attitude. It would be great. Things would be chill and beautiful and we could ignore the rest of the world and make out and smoke blunts and grow...food.

31,7500 or some mierda. I wish bartering still existed here...I'd sell all my shit and then go.

Truth.

In spaces of delicacy, shapes fall like stained glass from lightening's first strike.

I don't know what I'm doing there, spreading everyone thin over time. But now I know how you feel. I think it's just like me. You treat me like our kind has always treated the others.

It's too bad I can't find you, worse that I can't let you go. I don't want to be those things you think, I think about everyone but you.
A lie is so easy to tell it hurts. How do we first learn to be dishonest?

I was taught by the best, but then again, you probably were too.


We should have been perfect, but I am not becoming.

Release. Can you release me if you have it in you? It's not your responsibility but I'd love to give it to you.

Curly pie, what a magician. I should have known your tricks.


(I use them too.)

Jesus, Joseph and Maybe Even Mary

It is pure madness. I don’t want to recognize myself in who I may resemble. He told me I need to learn to love more than I hate. And jesus, is that truth.

I am all the things I hate in the others and when I say I know how it feels he doesn’t believe me one bit but it’s true. And then, it makes me realize that things are simply obvious and that I am just too stubborn to see them clearly.

How can we tell if being selfish is a bad thing or not? I mean, yes, we know it is bad. But, maybe people should be more selfish? Maybe they would be happier. There is a fine line between being a dick to everyone and being selfish except to those that mean the world to you, right?

But that’s not how it ends up working out, is it?

Someone should let me know if I’ll regret a fantasy world or not in the future.

Regrets eat the whole world up alive.

Mine.

In love we are allowed to sit.

lets live here?

It needs to be okay to be happy. I need to be okay to understand that normal is just a frame of mind. We are all unique and there cannot be just one way to live a life. In fact, I am finding there are thousands of ways to life in just one life. I have been running and running from what I know would make me smile because I think it is not the right way to live. Because I think it is hiding from some form of "real life". But REAL is relative! Ha. Real is whatever you make it out to be. Just like truth, as my mother might say...

We can make our lives exactly what we mold them to be. Not total control of course, but there is some there and I intend to use it.

No judgments can be made on doing things the way you feel they should be done.

C-r-a-z Crazy.

And there is nothing there! Not in any of them but you keep digging. Finding pieces of perspective love. Is that empathy you see?

Wait, that word he's used, sounds just like my father, no, ex-lover 2 times removed. Sounds something like nothing but syntax...gone wrong.

Keep digging.

Quiet is just a play on kindness and exhorbetent amounts of passion ensue in those that keep quiet, open mouths can run askew.

And that touch, dug up from the nursery in my old backyard, it feels like heaven not grime!

And those bruises you see, I don't look hard for them, my body intact, my mind sharp like theirs,

like men.

Shit,

my shovel broke.

Father, will you buy me some tape? And lover, will you mend what I brake?

I want to get where I'll be.

And it's the hardest fall we ever took. Maybe I took it alone. Walking forward towards an ominous ledge, the whole world shouting,

the fish and the rocks below bellooowwing loudl over the smash of that first wave.

But maybe I know the edge well. Maybe better than most.

Sounds from an Ipod with everthing with Queen to Mozart. The other side, live music plays, gaining inspiration from a note they hear or an image they've seen that day.

It's noon, early, too early to leave but not too early for a blue moon and one hit off a nicely rolled joint. We crack jokes,
then sit silently, breathing in mountains. All those things you take for granted here.

I wanted to pull your lips onto the paintings, knowing how cold they'd be. I didn't care and you didn't try and I am deciding in freedom to steop where your feet take you.

Music on the right side.

Character speaks.

How beautiful.

Such desolation. I can't make up my mind and I can feel my throat begin to tighten.

I miss the grip, the bleeding of my fingers hidden by my side.

I want to write you love poems, be nostalgic for something we've never had but I might just sicken you. And in your glory, I wonder if I've ever frightened you?

I want to stop testing my borders, thinking one is one is I'll never find another.

And if I am the ONE, what can that ever mean to you? Snake eyes...

I've always called you that. It hurts to see the colors change, to feel a pull in my gut. Life seems so short to me. If it isn't lived now we'll all die soon. In this trial of damp fog and jungle gyms I hope I find you...

Alone and honest, breathing slowly with the tip of your tongue on a bead of my sweat.

I need seconds.

It's terrifying to feel like you have no self control.
I want them to believe me but I haven't shown any proof, have I? Too late to believe in myself. I think of time as death and I am already at the tipping point. I want to think there is use in words again.

I need to buy a nice camera. One that doesn't take pictures that look like the mush and trash on the beach in Chile.