i want to make art that is free and alive, breathing in the world, not trapped behind glass or inside the sides of a rectangle. i want to make art that is like natural growth, that doesn't know about expensive sheets of paper or measurements or the restraints and absolute dullness of this world. i want to make something that glows and lives. something that feels the wind across its face, is battered and worn by time, lives in this world without unnatural, sharp edges but the softer, organic kind that are like arms flung wide open. that's the kind of art i want to make.

i had three little mochi, three dear, delicious little mochi-creatures. we considered karaoke but then balked. nonetheless, there were many things that did end up happening. coffee and glances at bean, where impeccable timing led us to newly freed seats on stools by the window. viewing succulents at our favorite exotic plant and flower shop on the same street. ten of us cramped into a small juilliard dorm room and pretty much only talking to david and evan. plenty of interlochen ghosts and faces. an exceedlingly attractive french horn player in a blue velvet blazer and t-shirt, singing an impressive song he had written about his love for the chicken filets at the local deli. the progression from a smile to a toothy grin over aim. and of course, the day before, chocolate and rushmore with sofia. that is all for now.

now my blog is all messed up and i don't feel like fixing it, really. tables be damned.

there are a coupla boys i watch. they're better than movies. yesterday by chance i ended up sitting one seat away from one of them, the one i like most i think. i spent lecture watching the ways he folded his hands and his skinny wrists, admiring how he crossed his leg and his shoe came closer to me. every shirtcuff, every sock, every pantleg and color was perfect. he is probably the most refined dresser i have ever seen. some people are good dressers, but within a certain style. he creates his own aesthetic. this is why i like him: we cross paths a lot, cause he works late and goes to lots of lectures and programs; whenever i see him, hes alone or with his friend who is incredible (i saw him perform a piece that he wrote and it was pretty much genius) (i wonder if they're together); resulting from said point, he doesn't try to be friends with everyone although he probably could be. but mostly, he seems like he is truly an artist and truly smart, for he doesn't need the bravado of arrogance and doesn't try to create some exclusive image. just his intelligence alone is enough to distance the world.

there's this thing that i cannot solve. i have hands, indeed, and i see that they are hands, and yet i cannot figure out what i am supposed to do with them. pick things up? set them down? twirl them between my fingers? something is expected of me, and yet i remain blank to what is the appropriate action and in the process i feel i am breaking something, something very cherishable and fragile and that deserves a sweet soft breeze i cannot muster. once i could; now cannot. a curse. i keep writing about this and it's so amorphous and vast that it comes out in a slightly different way every time, but never in such a way that unites all the different parts, a new shape just forms each time. so instead of coming to a conclusion or coming to understand anything, my arms become more and more crowded with objects. it's hard to understand, it's hard to gather between my arms.

i feel like i am stepping on something with my whitewhite blankness. oh please just i wish i knew what to do: i wish my face were not a wall. why this now, ? when all i can do is hurt? i can only love anything from afar and i know the minute i touch something i will ruin it, and i dont want to ruin its goodness. i dont want to hurt it more than i already am. all the wrong times, for me, all the wrong times.

trader joe's hides under the guise of being the fun party-place, all fun and smiles and games, but really they're breeding fucking racism and hatred underneath those hawaiin shirts and plastic leis! the balloon man made me a sword, but no, it wasn't just any sword, it was a samurai sword. idiots. i'm not even japanese!



i'm not actually angry. i think the particular way i was "angry" in above passage was actually quite funny.

and p.s.
it's been a whole damn month, now, more than a month, i think, since we whatever. since it ended since the doorshut since my throat was cut out. and i'm still NO CLOSER to figuring anything out, in myself. i'm still just immature and infantile as ever about it. i could still cry about it i still feel angry i feel like no time at all has passed. hurt like rain and my own feelings like razorblades onto my insides, because i cant let myself feel anything without feeling guilt about it. that i should be handling this better, that i should be happier, that there is some truth or some point that i am missing. i can't believe it's been a month. a whole month.

i cannot believe life is so ridiculous.

i want to make him hurt like this. not because i ever want to cause pain in his life but because i want him to WAKE UP, because this pain is real and for a reason: he is lying lying lying. and he SHOULD feel pain for it. but he doesn't and it's wrong.

But If He Would Like to enter into deceptions and untruths, i suppose i am just as capable of that.

for me: a period of retreat, of recovering myself.
of drawing in close all the things that i love and making them a part of me again. not to prove anything, but just because that is who and what i want to be. because i don't feel clothed in soft warmth if i am not that person. because i feel raw and empty inside otherwise. because days dont dance around me and i dont dance around inside days. otherwise.

not to mention:
all the male grad students at the school of art & design are foxy.

i've been making pictures.
faces as blurs, lights strong in the background--lights from lamps.

s.lovely.

and p.s., no its not exciting. the drawings were crappy, and my ass would have gotten kicked for them back at interlochen.
its exciting if i want to build up a false sense of ego based on premises that have entirely no basis in real worth or reality whatsoever. plus, ego shouldn't exist in art

i've been busy, dead, dying. my chest ripping itself apart in worry because i can't find an important sheet of paper. always, it seems that this is the way with me. one moment it's the exam. the next it's the essay. and there are appointments and credits (honors & dual degree student who wants transferrable credits b/c she plans to transfer in two years) and setting this up with my dual degree which hasn't been completely processed yet. i wish i could forego academics in favor of art because at least the work i do there gets me somewhere and teaches me more than i have ever learned in any of the academic subjects combined and multiplied by fifty. or what have you. but that wouldn't be so smart, would it?

or is that just my parents talking?

four of my drawings are up in the student show.
none of these bums went to see it.
i am assuming this is so because there are a total of four comments in the guestbook, all of which consist entirely of the signer's name.
useless. people here are useless.

two people i thought were my friends are now turning into jerks. i hope i am jumping to conclusions.

i just read this article for behavior & environment (SHOCK! the first assigned reading i've done on time since ... perhaps, ever?) and it makes me want to get rid of e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g i have cluttering my life. i have an excess of things, and i wish i could somehow just strip it down to the bare minimum. life would be so clean, so simple, and i am sick of having all these things i do not need clogging my head. i want to get rid of all my clothes, in favor of nine shift dresses, five sweaters, two pairs of shoes, a jacket, a pair of pants, and undershirts. (underwear, of course, but that doesn't count) things that are simply perfect and simply simple, so that i'd never have to think about it again and everything would just be so much more wonderful.

i checked out four issues of granta a couple days ago from the library. i just realized that i will probably never read them.

it is like my mind is to overstressed, too much of a jumble to even be able to begin to comprehend things normally, or react to things normally. i can flip out over nothing--like when they said they lost my application at the school of art & design. walking a thin, thin line here.

it was sort of nice to have dinner with lauren tonight. i enjoy solitary dinig; sometimes i even actively seek it--when i know that there will be someone i vaguely-know at dinner i opt for south quad. edit: i flee for south quad. but i like it to be MY CHOICE. i know that's completely empty, pointless, and stupid, because what difference does it make, really, if i'm going to be eating alone every night? ergh.


well i have to pack things up to go to my group meeting. we continue to meet at cafe ambrosia. it's so lovely and cozy to have something like that. i hope we actually get some work done. i hope the walk is not too bone grippingly cold. my body temperature seems out of whack today to begin with.

OH ALSO, there is this one person i am "hi" friends with, his name is nick, and he's hilarious--but not in an intentional way. today, there was a "chili supper and course mart" going on north dining hall, meaning the strong + distinctive smell of chili was permeating the air, and there was a LOT of hubbub and hullabaloo coming from the room as students ate and talked to professors, probably about as stressed about scheduling as i am. i passed nick on my way out, and he asked me: "what is going on in there? the blood drive?" oh hahahaha. ok goodnight.

i am soooo in love with this scarf. i wear it everyday. sometimes i dont wear certain [clashing] shirts just so that i can wear this scarf. IT IS ME: i will be girl with scarf, girl with twisted jacket (which i have to take the dry cleaners, shit. still. it's the one SOMEONE THREW UP ON).

this week
is looking better than the last.

tonight: dinner & exercise with lauren.
wednesday: perhaps i will venture out to north campus
thursday: a walk with jeremy joseph
friday: hanging out with anna (this girl i met at orientation; enviro major; somehow in the jumble of the beginnign of the year, of getting settled in and starting classes, we never met up).

yep. i still have yet to conquer graham. that's completely a joke by the way, i don't conquer people, i just get to know them. i am NOT that kind of person.

anyway, i did notice him throwing looks my way when i entered spanish lunch the other day, but i didn't sit at his table because it was too far away and that would look silly, walking all that way when there was an empty spot at a table right near me.

i still don't have friends in the way that most people have them, though, you know? running into people, going to dinner together, studying together...not me. no group.

whoopsies.

sorry if all i ever do is complain, but the words i speak are true.
i have so much work it is plum ridiculous.

i can't decide if it's a hole i dug myself (by getting sort of behind) or if it's more that the teachers give unreasonable amounts of reading?

perhaps a combination of both.



ugh. i feel so overwhelmed that i can't even begin.

tired of JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING.

tired of being let down.
tired of the negativity that exists in the people i call my "friends"
tired of wanting to be able to depend upon, count on, one person, one who i think will actually consider my feelings, only to be let down. it's sort of infuriating really, to have that sort of imbalance in a relationship. when i am willing to give so much more, and the other person just isn't. just cannot. just doesn't see friendship in the same way that i do, or is too selfish or something i don't know. and i wish i weren't forced to continue to be good friends with this person, to need her/him in some way because i have no one else.
why can't jesse just be here??

1. i took three polaroids in one day. not only in one day, but probably in no more than three hours. it's so hard not to go overboard, and so easy to forget the absurd cost when the things are popping out of the camera.

2. all of them were good, though.

3. i can't do anything.

today was a perfect day. i dont know what happened but it was warm, to the point where i was uncomfortable in my longsleeved shirt. i delayed going to figure drawing in order to walk about quieter streets with a cone of ice cream. lineless, narrow, cobbly streets.

i hate doing laundry. not because i'm lazy but because it's way more of a hassle than it really should be, in a dorm situation, and because the machines are always taken.

BLAAHHHHHHHH.

my mom sent me
a letter.
she microwaved three tulip leaves (these reminded me of you she wrote/she said)
and put them inside; i did not know.
when i opened the letter, leaf bits spilled messily out and
everywhere.

baaaahhhhhhh.

i understand all too well your recipe for disaster.
by the way, anyone out there (cause i KNOW so many people read this) have a calculator? i have pants but no calculator, and i want to know whether my grade on my last behavior and environment exam is something to worry about: 18.5/20. anyone, anyone? i got 19.5 last time and a little smiley; alasalack, this time, no smiley--->WORRIED GIRL.

anyway, as IF anyone cares, let's talk about my day. we won't even TALK about yesterday, which was pretty much just as full. but let's start. bed at 2:30 a.m. (due to hw) rise at 8:00 to write essay. finish in a streak of brilliance (or, as we will see later, perhaps not?), make it to spanish in time at 10:00. even have time to brush teeth briefly and change into clothes that aren't pajamas. spanish ends at 11:00, and i get back to my room at about 11:15...she always lets us out late. i have to make it over to angell hall, which is a 15 min walk at least, to get my essay checked-over at sweetland writing center during my 11:30 (sharp) appointment, so i head right over. have appointment, discover my essay is a good start but definitely needs a thorough revision (about 2 hrs, probably less). well, the brilliance of my star has faded. anyway i get back to my room at 12:15 and somehow, SOMEHOW, i must get lunch and have left the building for my next class by 12:45. the lunch line is ENORMOUS. so i go to the snack bar and get something there, but it takes longer than i anticipated, so i eat my hummus-in-a-pita as i walk over. frantically. get there, have class, get back at 2:50ish, momentary respite, then drawing. this is all mindblowing. all the while, i am thinking about the BILLIONS of chapters of catch-up reading i have to do for my environ class (i haven't done any reading since before the first exam, and even then i wasn't completely uptodate), the essay that needs to be redone, and the really difficult, abstract reading i have to do for my affirmative action class. and on top of that, there's spanish homework, as always, and in about ten minutes i have to go to this focus group thing.

i'm sure EVERYONE enjoyed this but i just had to complain about it somewhere, somehow. oh, also i made a wishlist. it was my first encounter with from-scratch htmling in a while, and it's such a pathetic specimen you could hardly call it html. but oh well, i like it, you like it, we're all happy. i don't even care if you like it or not. i don't even know who "you" is. perhaps the computer, glaring back at my weary face?

time to get in a good mood.

handsome boy modeling school. loudly. i never wear makeup but i'll wear it tonight. i'll fill myself with fill myself with things i hate, i'll flirt with any boy i think is cute, i'll be disgusting and loud, anything to get you out of my mind, anything to get this feeling out of the pit of my stomach. anything to get even.

"oh my god, they're gorgeous!" -hbms

"They seem to come to me
Asking to be broken
They seem to run to me
I break horses
Doesn't take me long
Just a few well-placed words
And their wandering hearts are gone."

-smog

here's a little sample of what my room at interlochen looked like junior year.


this may or may not be representative of what my room looks like now.









_{(actually...it's not. it's fairly neat, although still messy, piley. it was definitely like this senior year, though.)}

I'VE SAID IT BEFORE AND I'LL SAY IT AGAIN. DOWN WITH FLATTERY.

1. i hate computers.
2. i hate people.
3. i need a revolution, i need to reform.

accepting a piece of fruit
you are bringing me closer to the earth.
i can feel my feet?

i wish:

- i could eat as many cookies as i wanted.
- i could always be warm enough with sweaters instead of jackets
- for soy milk to go with my chai tea
- nick would start posting in his blog and livejournal again, A LOT

far too humourous. must share.

already it is so dark here.



i am panicking a bit right now but there is no reason.

bus again today. all the way out to the stadium, which turned out to be a scary place when it is deserted. and then back to the main bustle-bus-place, my new home, where i sat inside a sheltered stop and drew as bus after bus arrived and then left. today it was the loneliness of one as the sidewalk opens its mouth & grows before him, port-a-potties, a lost-looking lingerer behind the newspaper machines, single strays in the sheltered stop acrossways, and the same kind of window over and over.
these vegan cookies are large, very good, and three dollars. never again.

i am scared that i am not learning as much, and that i am forgetting what i had learned. about the beauty from struggles and so much more. it was harder for me then, there was much more struggle and unhappiness, but i held tightly to so much beauty. WHAT SHOULD I...do...think.

i am friends with hipsters. what happened to me. oh, well--that's not the point anyway. i like their people, their persons, who they are. and they happen to be hipsters as well. it's just that, when they start talking about the difference between black chuck taylors and tan chuck taylors, i loudly roll my eyes and noticeably refrain from comment, scoff.

so satisfying, the noise of pulling open curtains in the morning.

sometimes with eyes closed the neon darkness moves forward towards me as if it is not empty or a solid nothingness, as we imagine darkness to be, but something moving and living.

i don't want to miss you.

i do NOT want to miss you.

ihopeyouarehomesafelyihopeyoudidnothaveanymeetingswithpeoplethatweretooscaryihopeyourbusseatwascozyandthatsomeonewhosmelledbadlydidntsitnexttoyouihopesomekindofbeautifulmusicwasinsideyouihopethatyoufeltatingeofmybreathinyourchestmixingwithyoursihopeyoudontreadanyofthisihopetheskiesopenedupihopeiwontgocrazy.

it breaks against me and dissolves, dusting my skin like powder, moving and stirring through me like

breath



wind.

"But consider the experience created by a large gray object passing the door, an object with tusks and a tail and wrinkled skin. In general this much infomration will suffice to yield the experience of having seen an elephant. The elephant as experienced will be complete with eyes, ears, and a trunk."

-Humanscape: Environments for People
Stephen Kaplan & Rachel Kaplan.

moving one box can change the landscape of your desk.

not a drop of sweat was shed throughout the entire process. and the lady really liked me, and i her.

i got into the school of art and design.

i drank celebration tea & took the bus home.

i can't see other colors! this one brilliant streak has filled my mind.

JESSE IS COMING.







iamsoexcited!!!

i cant sit still all the words on the page say "soon"

how sweet is the air that enters and escapes me.  i have this patient but persisent feeling of waiting.   it's silly, really. you are always with me.

dear wynn smith,
i thought of you when i got dressed this morning.
or at least, you in 2001.

alaska, stomach




you probably don't get it.

dear emily,
clean your room.

love,
emily

my dream last night was so deeply sad, twisting me around in an uncountable number of tiny places. even during the dream, i couldn't fully comprehend all of the ways in which it was sad, the different levels and reasons, because there were so many and they were all so deep-rooted. i woke up crying, not sure if i was crying or not, not wanting to sniffle because i didn't want to wake up sarah.

the dream exhausted me. it was so complex and navigating it required thought, effort, anxiety. so often my dreams are strains, not resting periods for me. they are just as much work as living and i worry just as much during them.

i started to write you something about rain and light, but then i realized that it was only
halftrue.

i don't know what's wrong.

SUBJECT: the vivid force of possibility
rose up and became strangely
tangible

what green might grow from the smallest moment. a single thing, felt with honesty and truth between us, could be acres of fertile, rainwet earth, could sprout forth such lush and complex life, enough to fill what some might consider enough--a symphony, or one hundred, a cave's walls, or hundreds.

where are all the sensitive people who do not have those sharp corners? i am waiting to find some. the loners, the ones who do not find forced social situations to be easy. the ones who make friends more slowly, and are careful, and don't go to house parties on the weekends to drink and maybe get high.

it is a day a day for figuring out what has gonewrong because certainly something has. senses shut off.

healing

i felt it once on my forehead today. telling me to relax the lines and to speak more softly.

some thing(s) lost in the static and 1-2-3-4-5 of passing seconds so that i cannot simply say what comes from so deeply within me in the most genuine and natural way. you know it but it is always nice to hear it, isn't it?

i love you.

it is much harder to make a pencil drawing dishonest.




(also:cheapcheesyseedydated)

i have been deprived of any sort of prospect in the people department for far too long, so i'm going to write about it briefly, just because it feels nice. i still like to be alone, desire to be alone, but these are the kind of people that i could occassionally go to some interesting cultural event with, have good conversations, and not have to be with every second.

joe continues to be a great person. so nice, and truly interesting.

now for the new.
there is a boy named jeremy joseph in my behavior and environment study group. he is a writer and we have written e-mails. just the fact that he is a writer--AND with a double concentration--makes me so happy. artists! artists with dual concetrations!!
and today i met a soft, smart, quiet boy named graham. he has blond hair and worked at a radio station this summer. his concentration is in film. i met him at spanish table. i love spanish table. the thing was, i was talking to this one lady, explaining my independent study and such, and he was talking to someone else, but the entire time i had this feeling that he was listening to me. i could tell it, i could feel it. and he was. because later he asked how i liked interlochen, and he only would have known i went there if he had been listening to my conversation.

these are obviously not crushes, they all just happen to be boys. unfortunately, most of the girls here are excessively dull or vapid and i find it hard, sometimes to connect with girls. i feel like they find me boring. ok, none of that is true, i just have not happened to encounter a girl that i connect with.

.

i ate so much today. when i first got here i didn't eat anything at all. i mean, anything in excess at all. i'd try so hard to scratch out a meal, worried i wasn't getting enough food. see, being around people has messed me up.

tomorrow i'm meeting with my NRE360 study group. they all sort of intimidate me, something that really hasn't happened since i came here, and i have no idea how to find the house we are meeting at. they are all older than i am (i am most likely the only freshman in the class) and people i think i might somewhat admire, or at least see valuable qualities in. but maybe they will be open to me.

how can you possibly be so
earnestly
cute
in your inability to spell?

tonight, you can call me, late into the night. i will be cleaning my room like a maniac, a human-shaped bee, the one with the girl-comb-over and STRIPES EVERYWHERE (tonight, my pants)

there is someone, and our air is the same (his air is mine my air is his so there's no more his or mine, just one) and he is coming to see me this sunday. i am terribly excited. i use the word terribly for a purpose: it is terrible. i cannot pay attention in classes. i cannot do homework. my mind is abuzz and fluttering around and all i can do is be excited.

haircut. i need one. i miss having bed-head and a short ponytail.
also need: someone who will actually be able to help me with my artist statement, a huge piece of paper that takes up the whole floor [for drawing purposes], and a watch that won't make me want to kill myself (pocket watch?)

i have this little belief that the highest hindu god is really just the definition of highest love. both come in many different forms (that is what confuses some about the hindu belief in one supreme god, but at the same time the worship of more than one god: they are all simply forms of the supreme god) but i do not know, i hold this little idea to my chest and i cannot explain the effect it has on my entire body.

i think i like the microphones a little too much.
i really hate when people let the words of others (oftentimes, musicians) fill their own mouths and heads (COTTONBALLS), and it feels like that is starting to happen to me. dangerous.

after the soft but hot pink parts my mind, maybe i will try writing you again.

i fucking hate school. ALREADY.

i promise you i've got enough of the basic requirements. more so than probably 99% of the student body here. so just let me take the classes i want to take.

the bathroom.

i look at a corner and wanted to cry. coming out of the stall, i look behind me. i'm not sure why. something about my shadow made me think for a second my ghost was behind me. or that maybe i was behind me. every tile stared back.

/'`

dear boy-who-took-his-saxophone-outside-when-the-fire-alarm-went-off,

thanks for that.

people here are very closed. i sense it and react to it. i want nothing more than to know people, to enter into a space they open in themselves, but all remains shut off. and forcing a space to be created does not work either if the other person truly is not receptive, truly does not want a part in it.

i grew to expect stationary revolutions,
to be handed small pieces of melon
when closed eyes are the open ones--
extraordinary silent explosions

MOM: a ten-second sketch in two dimensions











Nickname: Bobbitt
Likes: Wintertime, mashed potatoes, the family dog, furious knitting
Dislikes: Barneys New York, going to the beach, skiing, Christmas present shopping pressure, extra lbs

IF I HAD WORDS TO SHARE, I WOULD.

the most extradordinary silent explosions, stationary revolutions. handing me little pieces of melon and flower petals.

and now: the kind of temporary acquaintances i hate, the kind of artificial and surface-based activities i DON'T CARE about. repetition.

i am especially bad at remembering things, and it becomes essential at college.

eating. unlocking the tiny box down three flights of stairs with my mail.
returning phone calls. putting away socks.

too much. therefore: nothing.

ouch biting flies.
ouch scratching stubble. oh hurting chin.

"we need to start something in this house tonight. everyone feels bottled up. don't you feel bottled up?"
"actually no not really"
"you do. deep down you do. you're bottled up."

i leave things to rediscover. today i found two pieces of paper with a little bit of writing and some lines drawn on them. they opened me up again.

sometimes i forget.

all i hear is yelling. nobody goes to sleep here. nobody cares that frat parties are depressing and disgusting. i can't sleep in the mornings because workmen are always right outside my window (and i am on the third floor), whistling and crashing around. i hear all of it. even with the fan on and the window shut and the curtains closed. and you know. it's funny. still.

allow me to state a few obvious items.

1. i have a total of ten fingers.
2. being at home makes me miserable.
3. little ones like pizza. little ones like ice cream.
4. finding out someone has been using you [because of who you are friends with, or for whatever reason] rips apart some things that were attached. some of those pesky veins or fibers of being. muscle strings. finding out other people knew this and speculated about it, as if you are not of any worth alone, tears.

i love MY LIFE! in that almost perversely happy way that no one wants to hear about. i can't believe it.

but i could not keep it. i didn't really love it.

this girl is gone. now college-bound, now wisconsin-dwelling.
i could cry but it's all waiting for a less opportune time to come out.
dear nina.

i think i'm dying.
i think i'm in love with everyone.
i can't breathe through my throat.

a cold. coming and going.

i knew it, i knew it, i knew it. because i know you too well.

This Just In:
sleeping is bad!

that's right, recent studies have proven that sleeping undermines your physical and emotional well-being. and it's just plain stupid, so don't do it anymore. unless it's free and then it's ok.

here are ten fun and easy ideas to get you on your way to never sleeping again:

10. throw yourself into a lake of your own boiling blood!
9. begin the endless journey across fields of glass shards!
8. count all of the hairs on your dog!
7. throw a party with all of your friends and worry, worry, worry the whole time. worry is one of the number one sleep-deterrrents!
6. fall in love!
5. find your wayout of a tub of molasses!

my uncle goes hunting. "venison for dinner tonight."

i fall asleep fine, but now i always wake myself up in the morning. really early. and never can get back to sleep. too awake, too jittery. fuck. you.


me eating breakfast. or maybe pretending to eat it. i'll give you a hint. it's not venison.



[CHOCOLATE]

words made stale when compared to the freshness of these feelings. unsatisfactory lies, ones that will not fill the belly, because there are so many explosive worlds and swirls of color, layers and levels, left longing. oh, lies could have been good,
but then i saw things that were not and someone who knew the difference. i cannot feed him dust; he knows.

thereisnosuchthingasblack and i am melting trying to think of who i could be to the world. anything, anything. and sometimes i lose it or get lost in it and there really is no right way.

i am not angry. i have just had to deal with the pain of expecting less. and i will expect and invest less from now on.

PERMEATION

i.
sweet you.  you bent a willow tree for me. 
so sad i could not remember a name for the sound of its leaves... 

ii.
i trace your invisible lines through my life. through the masses of fibers and glowing orange centers.  through everything that attracts light like it is dust.

iii.
opening, opening, warm, warm: doors and visions and worlds
a lapse and pinpoints gape.  everything splits and forks and meets lost
heaviness again.

iv.
what a beautiful picture you make
trying to pin qualities onto salt
to make it a boy, make it a girl. 
something, anyway. 

(they tie them into shiny ribbons. they tie them like shiny ribbons.)

people tell me their secrets.

strings:

i trace your invisible lines through my life.  through the masses of fibers and glowing orange centers.  through everything that attracts light like it is dust.  

i should never ever stay up this late. when i stay up this late and i am alone i feel lonely. i'm too worn-out to feel love anymore but i can't make myself sleep either. i get the munchies and i feel alone and i wish i had letters to open, typewritten, handwritten letters to open, one after another. ones that i even forgot about but they make me want to keel over in pain from their beauty. or maybe just smile, but not with my mouth. i want to fill my life up with letters even though when i wake up tomorrow i know i don't need that, or even want it at all. but that's what happens. i really am not alone, but i feel like i am. this is pointless, because i could have avoided it all just by going to bed.

instead of asking, hold. hands cupped to receive and hold.

i did not sleep well last night; i kept waking up. every few hours, i would wake up in the middle of a dream, too warm or too tired to sleep anymore. in one dream, i was in that same dream-mall i always return to. i hate malls. this time, there was a new wing to the mall, and we were looking for something there. then we went back to the main mall, and everything was a familiar circus of lights and shops again. in another dream, i was at dinner with a bunch of people and one of the ladies asked me a question in spanish while everyone else was speaking english. i was able to understand her and answer her. i felt really proud. i hear that if you dream in spanish, it means you are fluent, but my dream wasn't like that. when i talked to her, i was fully aware of my lack of fluency. i was able to form an answer in spanish and chat fairly well, but there were places where i didn't know a word and she would fill it in for me. i stumbled once or twice. i wonder if he slept well. i wonder if he's happy that i didn't. i have never had this problem before. it was always just waking up early. never waking up in the night or the morning or who even knows the difference when it is that early or that late.

i am up so late because i am really full with having so much love and feeling so happy and smelling nighttime coolly on my neck through open windows, and i want to show it somehow, or share a little piece of it or all of it, but i want to keep it like a promise or a pact between us as well.

he gets upset because in a given hour, he will think about one thing. me. and i will think about 100 different things. what he doesn't know is that really, i am thinking of maybe two things, one of them being him-but in 99 different ways.

four kids with too much basil. zachary in a blanket of pillows, nina and the weeping telephone, elisabeth with the poster of usher like new upholstery over her backseat. we don't even like him. he's just funny. oh, and me. with my favorite clothes disintigrating with each passing second and never knowing whether or not i am hungry. knowing that present happiness only means future sorrow multiplied by five, or however much i dared to be happy, and that nothing is anything i can ever grab onto.

i want to tell you how much i love you
but it seems like the only way i can
is in a petal of this flower




i wish i could show you it. it would explain everything.

i made a mistake.








i will never in my life ever make another mistake again. ever.

_{p.s. .....}

running was hard until i breathed in some beautiful smell laden with flowers, and i pictured myself breathing flowers back out, and i closed my eyes and before i knew it i was at the end of the street. the image carried me; i floated on my stream of flowers.

when we see each other again, let us not hold too tightly for too long, for that makes solid the time and distance that was between us, and the fear of the time and distance that might be between us in the future. let us not speak of it with words (those smoky things) or bodies.

i can't take this. he won't let me sleep in a way that is somehow more painful than not being able to physically sleep. that is how he is experiencing it, but he can take sleeping pills and it is all better. but what is happening to me i cannot escape from, he won't let my emotions sleep, he won't let me disconnect myself from my emotions and my self anymore.

i saw the most beautiful piece of art i have ever seen in my entire life. because it is exactly how I understand art, and what i think true art does, and it is REAL ART, making it the most beautiful thing i have ever seen. i say it is real art because you cannot talk about it in an academic way, assessing the composition or color choices. you simply cannot pick it apart, it is whole and expresses completely the state the artist was in. you can't talk about improvements. the improvements will come as the artist herself grows and changes, but this piece of work cannot be TOUCHED. and it makes you feel. if you can.

it feels like my ribcage is this enormous tunnel, in the sky, of the sky, all air and sky, and i am underneath it.


///////
i really wonder what motivates a person to reach out and make someone miserable. it takes a decided effort to do this. a determined effort. to hurt someone. basically, dear sister, why are you so very LITTLE.

when you laugh it should sound more like "haw" then "ha."
EVERYTHING SHOULD EXPLODE BECAUSE I AM IN LOVE AND IT'S REAL LOVE.

and the world doesn't even care enough to hate me.

listen: i feel green soft rises and falls for you.

i told you when you are worried forget it and breathe instead because it is the same thing as trusting or believing.

ok so fine. i lied. we all lie.
actually i didn't lie. in the moment i was telling the truth. note the very 90s "i feel like..." or is that more of a naught y thing? (00's...0=naught in mathematical terminology)

bottom line is, there will always be things i'm not man enough to say to my livejournal because the people who read that actually know me for the most part, and get pissed when i force them to read something seemingly pointless and boring. so there will always be a reason for this blog, but my posts feel like they will be way less frequent, and of much lower quality, than my livejournal. so just know that.

today my mom tried to explain to me that when we are tired, we sleep. this is what we do when we are tired.
i still haven't internalized it. maybe never will.

and my favorite quote of my lifetime is, "now that's fancy!"
so much so that my new e-mail address is now_thats_fancy@yahoo.com

i kill me

i'm not kidding.

i feel like i don't have anything to say to this blog anymore.
read my livejournal instead.

if my mind could be a little bit looser, a little bit freer, dip into connections that are normally restrained, i can tell that wonderful things would come of it.

i really wonder what motivates a person to reach out and make someone miserable. it takes a decided effort to do this. a determined effort. to hurt someone.

i
checked out a bunch of cd's from the library yesterday.

traditional music of japan, meditation chants and [vocal] songs, indigenous music from around the world, buena vista social club, john coltrane giant steps, john coltrane ascension + two other albums, all on two discs, solo monk (thelonious monk), and oen more but i forget.

jesse wrote me a letter and it was the single most beautiful piece of love/art/poetry/writing/life that i have ever read. they are all the same thing any how, aren't they?

WHY
did they take pepper ann off one saturday morning?

i surveyed myself, and found out that 100%
of people who are me still get cold in the summer time, still
sleep under a goose down comforter at night, still wear th
ermal-waffle pants a lot, and like to lie in the middle of th
e kitchen floor listening to music and eating raspberries
. instead of creating or producing or learning and beco
ming a better, more enlightened being. i do not think
it is funny, i think it is pathetic. also, people who ar
e me can't sleep more than six hours a day and so
are grouchy the next day.

is it june already? how does this happen. i don't understand but distinctions in english would be so nice. i forget the point of everything, so confused am i. sit on one side of the wall and wait and revel, she said. live in the moss that grows on the wall, the ivy that eats pieces of the wall. she said.

you cannot create anything new, but you can do things, experience things, in a way that is honest to your self. and what is exactly you has never been before, indeed. so my thoughts will never solve the world but they can truly feel the world and so understand and be worthy.

it would be nice to sleep for five days, or lay around reading for five days, and then suddenly get up and do everything at once, then sleep again.

i got a letter from jesse yesterday. i folded it into the sheets in my bed. i folded it over and over into my chest. everything is origami. clothes, letters, the way you fold them into yourself. let's talk about speech-paralysis and saying something that you never actually did.

verdict: i can't do this type of thing (blog, livejournal) well unless i don't have any time and am under extreme amounts of stress. that's just the way it works.

never have four babies at once. you'll die. and/or end up killing at least one of them, somehow.

home.
work.
(tomorrow. first day.)

pages and pages. wasted ink, wasted time.
trying hard not to do disgusting things like miss him, or do heartless things like not miss him.

i am a crazy stew right now. so that i don't even really know what i am thinking. want desperately to think, but trying with all my might not to. now back in the stagnating self-puddle known as my house, my home. eating terrible nachos is fun. not showering is fun, too. i hate being home.

still waiting for the post-graduation stupor to wear off. maybe it never will.

if you smelled like bananas, lemon, vanilla, sandalwood, and almond oil, then you'd be me.

well, that mixed in with whatever smell my body has.

this is the last. and still it doesn't feel real. indifference got you down? [yes.]

DON'T
kiss me.
trust me.

i will confuse everything because half of the time, i don't know what i am doing. or i know but i am confused. don't touch me, don't look at me. stay afraid.

i am not afraid. only when you are.

i am surrounded by an open space. the space lets me breathe, grow, lets time and events take their course, but still there is this thing anchoring me, connecting me. i am floating, but connected. i can finally trust. i can finally believe. it is light light and so open.

i feel different today. i didn't mean to. it's all in my chest. feels like adrenaline, almost, but i know that it's not. maybe i just feel alive rather than halfdead.

touching is the same as talking.

"how did it feel the day you stopped believing?"
" "

that puppy is not smiling at you and nothing makes an exception for love. you believed with your being that the world cared about you - that the sun would explode and time would stop. the hearts of all people enlightened by your love.

and the world doesn't hate you. that's ridiculous. it just ignores you.

i wanted the air next to me, the air i breathed in with my mouth closed, to hold that smell. his i mean.

i have not conceived of those months numbering more than three without. if i had to, i'd imagine it like this. like having some of the empty space inside my stomach stretched and stretched out.

listen to me, i don't die pretty anymore, i have decided, i die with all my guts. twisting and wrangling around. know that before you kill me.

destiny paper.

the birth
the death
the birth and the death
rumi poem
note
note
sometimes facts are necessary, and just as helpful
a strong being-memory
the deaths of those close
lost: bio logic
note
newness comes from empty spaces
insecurities
the progression of art mirrored the progression of being
pure form love
the people one loves
the places one cannot leave behind, even when away
everything i did not have


there will be more, most likely, but that is it so far. IT IS GENIUS. ha.

so...so...here it is.

and i feel even a little bit gray still.
sometimes. it comes with the afternoon doubt.
maybe i am not ready for him yet.

sometimes i wonder if there is any difference between killing me and loving me.
i don't think so.

i'm dying, but i'm glad. living never felt better.

now there is again this place that is entirely real, entirely possible, but that could never be, and it's inside of my chest. bet you never knew that i could see things with empty spaces inside my body. but i do. it's a secret, and he brought it back. i see it so much more. what if i made the outside world look like this? is that art? or something?
iiii thought in an illusion, one that i did not force out of me. it explained me, instead.

SLEEP.
why can't i?

jesus.

i cannot explain how i am bursting with this love.
the only way it can come out right now is in tears.

i could not think of a better way to die, my friend.

i love minute wavers, small imperfections. they shake with beauty.
ben harper does this with his voice, sometimes. you get the impression that it is very controlled. i LOVE it.

one more thing.
what is it to draw?
it is to have internalized something you are seeing
the process of the internalization
wanting to recreate what it means to you and how you are reacting to it
it is your reaction to its very form with your markmaking tool
it is an externalization of this internalization
a physical result of what goes on inside you

you must have loved it, somehow, had some kind of emotional response to it. an intellectual one, but when you respond strongly intellectually, there is emotion tied up in that.

daily, you hold hands with the dalai lama. you have touched greater genius and beauty imaginable, without even realizing it. and somewhere in you, a molecule of a diamond.

these connections are hard to realize, but don't deny yourself.

i still have to constantly remind myself.

and sometimes- i cry because it's too beautiful. everything, anything. wimpish, impish.


but then i get around some people and all of this is gone. and i forget how much i do actually value myself. i forget everything good and worthy about me.

the spanish classes went to an authentic mexican restaurant yesterday in celebration of cinco de mayo. it was enjoyable. amusements are as follows. two kids at the table behind me, trying to talk about acid jazz in spanish. me, trying to buy an entire economy-sized tub of small, beautifully colored stacks of wafer circles that are basically like edible pieces of paper. utterly flavorless. the vast number of mango lollipops that people bought before realizing they were covered in chile powder. saying witty things in spanish and laughing with lupe. passing new foods around on the bus. a bite for everyone. best of all, the grimaces people made when eating something particularly displeasing. frowning noticeably in every picture that was taken.

these notes take great pains to kill me. everything so tiny. physically tiny - emotionally overwhelming. they - kill - me.

to crush then to fill
fuller than before

the best happiness has these deep, sad undertones. it has sorrow in it. i keep thinking that it is like the best balsalmic vinegar.

i officially have the strangest views on relationships ever.
this boy - i adore him, he adores me. but my one goal in my friendship with him is that we do not get into a relationship.

he returned.
he returned to me what i gave to him.

i know
that if i put a poem that i wrote in his box
he will.
he will love it, read it, respond to it, hold it the same way that i did.
and that is wonderful, enough to make me cry.

this is real, this is real life, and it is the best real thing that i have heard in my entire life. and it's this tiny little piece of paper with his tiny little handwriting but it's making me sob.

for the very first time in my life, i was right about something.
and something was exactly how. and exactly when.
except for all the marring things.

the best conversation i have had, EVER.
Iacmeg: are you going to ks?
Iacmeg: oh yeah, its tomorrow
Emilybell: what time is k’s
Emilybell: what is the food?
Iacmeg: tomorrow
Emilybell: food
Iacmeg: I dunno
Emilyebll: what’s tomorrow?
Iacmeg: I dunno
Iacmeg: ks
Emilybell: omg sorry
Emilybell: I’m really distracted

ENTROPY

pictures of girls AFTER prom is over.
the hair falling down, the dress has been damaged, the shoes disappeared...

isnt it a hoot how the present and immediate future feel like forever, disproportionately long when you compare it to the past and the future...it's as if time condenses, then stretches out, distorts. then disappears. because for me, what's far away doesn't exist. it hasn't existed yet, it doesn't exist. i can't conceive of it. then again, time is just human understanding of the world.
time is a figment of our creation.
i know it's not news to anyone really but so often something about this idea gets to me. some implication it has in the way we live, or the things we do. how it's really just NOTHING. what if we had no concept of the day? then there would be no such thing as a bad day. one can spoil an entire day with one bad event. that seems so ridiculous. if there were no "days" then one would waste far less time - think of it. you lose your binder and cant turn in your homework, so you get kicked out of class. you probably waste the next ten hours in a bad mood. but you're allowed to, its just a bad day. so ridiculous.
theres more to this thought, but i am putting it on hold for now (what i am doing right now is trying to make procrastination look productive. which it is not. so i'm stopping).

i am a puddle of hopeless smiles.

hear: i am scared of what might happen _{(although it couldn't be so bad as nothing at all).}
everything - there are endless ways to see - tilt your head to the side and you see that you were all wrong. one more day and you finally understand, but never could before. an endless amount of decisions easily slipped up, simply ignorance. not-knowing. you can't know. it's so scary.
maybe i'll just close my eyes and hold tight my hands and forge ahead.



\\health services sent me an e-mail asking how my cold was. not how i was, how my cold was.