6 : Fifty Eight

A Pill

Eyes blunt,
Words wit-sharp, quipped,
Wrestling with air and meaning
And she's taken.

The sigh comes.
They'd all cry
Laughing for the sight--
The kind of laughter that forms
When thinking of small things
Mixed with vast distances of head-space
And spent-time
And life-years.
The word, "still,"
But she's scared, too.

She rests her bad idea
Quietly beneath her toungue
And lets her words
Dance on top--
They never venture under.
That night she swallows it.

The pillow cradles
The head, one
Dreaming of half-smiling
Quick-tongued tanned fools
That maybe
Could love her
Eventually.
Maybe.

-A

...just made me go back and change the content of about 20 of my posts. Holy Christ. I had serious problems in high school.

I should be working on my art project or sleeping... but this needs to come out:

Last night went far in solidifying an affection that I'd previously felt to be insubstantial, and at its worst, inconsequential.

How is it that a hopeless situation--and this is hopeless--gives me so much hope? Honestly, I think it's resonating because it provides a good foil to my unfounded Evan angst. Here, HERE is something worth angsting about. Here's beauty, Amy. Here's hope that you can meet something far, far better than Evan Beach and that it's for you.

Thank God he exists.

Waltz

Three chairs three doors three rooms--
A gray-scale image doomed.
I'd call your gaze authentic
If not for the costume.
I'd call you reticent,
But there's no secret spent,
And at the very most,
You love what I invent.
And at the very least,
Consumption's been increased.
I sing a song of six-pence;
This rises under yeast.
It works until we rush,
The night birds leave us flushed.
Three chairs three doors three rooms--
One matter still untouched.

- A

Things I'm currently irritated by:

- Patronizing friends
- Drunk friends
- Religion in general
- Religious people in general
- People who "love" me and are creepy about it
- Being attracted to people who A) I have no chance with B) are plain uninterested and/or C) not single
- My lack of motivation
- Feeling jealous
- Feeling hurt
- Feeling lonely

I'm always a goddamn mess. My emotions still trigger when I think of things that happened more than a year ago. I miss it--still. But I want to be happy NOW. I deserve to be happy. And I deserve to be happy while I'm single.

I resort to escapism, I do, because it keeps my day from being total shit. I love living life, but my God can it be shit to deal with.

Also, hi Patrick.

- A

Just watched ADitL again... nearly starting bawling during the A/R scenes. DON'T TALK ABOUT THE CABIN. It's upsetting.

Also, the deleted scene for that episode is made of SO MUCH WIN. So much. I wish they had kept it in.

I'm in total withdrawal.

Fuck.

Let me make this clear: I don't. Love. You. Stop expecting me to. It's crushing me.

Spring Forward

I taste the drink;
Supposed to taste your lips
To test this love
Where my conviction slips.
My heart is gagging
On my bathroom floor.
I call her name,
She begs one minute more

It's time, I say--
Don't know how much she hears.
The door's unlocked--
I test my deepest fears.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. So I took Katherine's suggestion... not that I needed the suggestion.

I want to fix the end of the first stanza cause it's such BS. I'm too tired for now.


The Land and the Sea

Sometimes he thinks she's wandered from the sea,
With mermaid tongue, wet slick upon her lips,
And mutable position of her hips.
Once-migrant hands enforced a stern decree
Though signatures now flow more lazily
Like water through her flound'ring fingertips.
When she rests, she dreams of battleships
Which churn her marine world haphazardly.

She barely swims--most days she seems to float.
Psunamis make the most of disrepair,
The waves of poison pooling in her hair.
He lifts her then, a firm, sea-worthy boat--
The watery breath that catches in her throat
Leaves to tangle with his earth-bred air.

I have watched "The Oath" kiss at LEAST 15+ times now.

It makes me want to die. I LOVE THEM SO FUCKING MUCH. BAH.

The hands in the hair... on her back... when she lifts her head up and he's all on her neck... and that tiiiiiny hum she makes before they go at it. *bwaaahh*

I want to be loved like that.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y2QtXvi5Lkk

Make that 16+.

-A

My shoes were caked with mud. I changed them, grabbed the cooler from the fridge, and headed back into the warm January afternoon.

No one was there to ask why I had been digging. No one was there to see me open the cooler's lid, turn the bag on its end, and dump the stiff, off-white shape into the ground unceremoniously.

A foot and tail stuck up above the rim of the hole. My frown deepened. I prodded her... it softly with the spade until the body gave a slight bend. I bit my lip. So this was how I'd remember it? My eyes widened, took in the image. A 40-minute hole, holding a distorted, lifeless body; a form on its back, twisting, small claws clutched, yellow teeth visible in a slackened mouth.

A great success.

I had dug my hole. For $3.49 and a crisp winter day, I had a spade and a filthy pair of shoes. I'd uprooted barely six inches, but my arms and legs pulsed from the exertion. The sun was shining over the spire of the looming house.

I think that's when I threw in my heart. Right then. With my back to the world, facing that damn creme-colored paneling and staring at that damn creme-colored lump. And I smiled bitterly when i scooped on the first piles of dirt.

Eventually, the spade was abandoned, and I started to gather the discarded chunks of mud in my palms. I patted them down gently, meaningfully, over the still objects I'd laid in the soil. If I set my hands on the ground, I could still feel the pulsing of my organ shift the dirt beneath.I barely noticed anything for the relief that ran through my head. Freedom. And perhaps I had been graced.

Sometimes, the rocks I laid over the mound can't hold in the rhythm. I hear it when I lay in bed. It courses through my bones when I'm touched. Sometimes, sheer affection wills it back, and I feel.

Mosttimes, I just lay stiff. I clench my fists, slacken my mouth, and go quiet. And the world washes over me. It seeps down through the porous earth above me and makes the numb parts damp. I don't argue. I simply am and I am and I'm not. Because I had dug my hole. And there I left the sudden-stifled vibrancy of life.

-A

Love you, Marissa. So sorry.

LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOOLOOLOLOLOOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLLOLOOLOLOLLOLOLLOOLOLOLLOOLOLOLLOOOLOLOOLLOLOLOLOOLOLLOOLLOOL.

..in three... two... one...

I give it two or three weeks.

This is going to get crazy, and wonderful, and horrible. *braces self*

A

Deathbed

Her eyes are sparkling with a restless guilt
As she flounders in her fancy's cove.
She lays her head on pillows that have built
A misinformed and unproductive love.
Sometimes she stills and sinks into the silt
Of what has been, what is, and what should be,
Sometimes she leans against hope's ling'ring lilt;
It's where he lacks both pride and subtlety.
These moments bring relief; she makes a quilt;
She sews him as a flower with her thread.
Her lips would gladly travel where he wilts--
Yet she retires, uprooted on her bed.

- A

Things to look forward to: the 2009 edition!

January 1 - New Ricky Gervais Show webisodes

January 16 - BSG returns

January 16-19 - NYC!

January 18 - Flight of the Conchords returns

January 27 - "Noble Beast" by Andrew Bird

January 27 - "Tonight" by Franz Ferdinand

February 3 - "The Fray" album

February 9 - "It's Not Me, It's You" by Lily Allen

February 21 - "The Sims 3" for PC

March 3 - "Middlecase" by Neko Case

March 17 - "GTA Chinatown Wars" for DS

March - "Madworld" for Wii

April 8 - "Dragonball" movie... LMAO. Going to be HYSTERICALLY awful.

May 15 - "Bruno" movie

June 26 - New "Transformers" movie

July 17 - HBP in theaters!

September 17 - 21st birthday!!!


Spring/Summer

Tori Amos album


Summer

Wii Sports Resort

"The Conduit" for Wii

CLU Vacation


At Some Point...

"Everything Comes and Goes" by Michelle Branch

"No More Heroes" Sequel

"Scott Pilgrim" movie


Wishful Thinking...

Arrested Development Movie?

Zelda? Pikmin? Something awesome from Nintendo?

Some days, I really think I've lost it. I think that I feel too much and I make up emotions and I create my own crazy expectations for love. Other times, I think I just missed my chance--plain and simple. And I'm paying for it.

KARMA!!! IRONIC SITUATIONS!!! ROLE-REVERSAL!!!

I am an idiot, I am an idiot! That's all that it comes down to! Why am I so stupid!

*facedesk*

Today was bad.

Irony

 

Your heart’s an aching wound of poor design,

A torrid, blatant thing, misunderstood,

And with my hardened bones it did recline.

I never did quite love you when I should.

 

Eyes tend to gaze where fingertips entwine

To shed some light where “might” becomes a “would.”

She clasps your hands and lips and feet and spine—

Still wishing I had loved you when I could.

- A

I can't believe Mraz performed "Catch Up to You." I can't believe it.

That was, like, the old school RKOPers' claim to awesomeness--the fact that they had that song and no one else did.

I CAN'T BELIEVE IT. WHERE HAVE I BEEN IN THE MRAZ FANDOM!?

*about to listen*

- A

Lame.

Totally lame.

*facepalm*

Well, whatever the hell I was expecting to write, this probably wasn't it. Physics... golf??? Come on, Amy, come on.

This is 100% Tuesday. 


The Ambassador

Animate, polar--
The bass drifts from beneath a street lamp,
All mapped out in my mind.
It sails over the forms:
Stomach fairways, lightning curling along my toes
And your lips like a decal
Clinging to static-sprung skin.

Go ahead, play it--
Take those fingers, golf daringly along the water's edge.
Settle in the dunes, the rough--
I don't know how you'll get yourself out of this one.
The music's flow settles
On your back
Near my hands,
But my mind seems far more concerned with
The din of your hazard breath.

It's funny the way beds rise;
We're all potential energy, black bodies
Buzzing, swinging wildly against whatever seems worth hitting.
That's all nice, you say,
But he's just the ambassador.
The breeze picks up--the storm curls back.
The music drives hardest when it gets dark like that.
Maybe soon I'll meet him, I say.
It all depends on which way the wind is blowing.

-- A

 Thank you, Mr. George Orwell, for the following essay:

Politics and the English Language

What a beautiful assessment of the devolution of academic and political writing. This is exactly why I doubt I'll ever be a literary mastermind--I value this breed of language above the rest. 

Concise is nice, kiddos.

- A (definitely and English major)

The Bear McCreary tune of the week is, wait for it--"Prelude to War." Oh, MAN, I'm so into that song right now. The racing strings and the drum beats and the UHN. It's verrrry nice. 

Finished getting through 2.0 last night. Those last two episodes ("Flight of the Phoenix," "Pegasus") were amazing. "Pegasus" especially. Admiral Cain is such a delicious character... what a fantastic story arc. It made me giggle, because as bitchy as Roslin seems sometimes, she looks like a damn puppy dog next to her. 

Basically, I can't wait to spend more money buying 2.5.

In other news, Ricky Gervais is starring in the new movie "Ghost Town." It looks awesome. Sweet and harmless, perhaps, but lord, it's RICKY!



Also, his LJ blog offered this stat: 

"The Ricky Gervais Podcast is downloaded an average of 4.54 million times a month. That's about 55 million downloads a year and over a million per week- nearly 4 times the amount that broke the world record three years ago."

Phenomenol. And well-deserved, might I add. (Aaron Douglas is a fan, hehe)



I love you Ricky. And you, Karl Pilkingon, you bald-headed twat. Well done.

-A

Afflation

Boots, ID, back seat of an SUV—
They’re headed to that chichi club on the West End.
Lord knows she could use a bit of salvation.
Sissy steps out of the car and pulls out her cigarettes.
“My God,” she breathes.
Lane inhales the smoke emitted from her friend’s lips,
Combs fingers through her hair, bangs.
They make their way through the tangled bevy of
Heels and hair spray.

A man givers her another drink; her head falls back
In unheeding laughter, toned with the
Pervading frivolity.
A black man’s hands are up Sissy’s skirt
And someone else takes Lane’s waist.
Unsullied, clean, she thinks—
This is as base as it gets. No lace.
No hemline. The bass bears a divine prophet
On it’s wings. Lane prays with her hips, sings with her
Very body.

Yeah, that’s what she came for; that’s Christ in her veins.
She tosses the last of the drink down her throat.
“Let’s move,” she growls. 

- A