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Monday, February 25th, 2008
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Tuesday, January 29th, 2008
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Tuesday, January 8th, 2008
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Four buildings in a row- flowers, flowers, flowers, then dirt. Theirs was the last house without grass or flowers, with the overbearing trees behind the gate next to the alleyway. Two girls with long, dark hair lived inside, then three, and then two again. Their rooms were full of furs and old books and jewelry and delicate little bottles. The front door was hard to lock. She used to kiss his girlfriend before she took her place. They used to sit on separate chairs with the lights off and he talked so low she could barely hear him. He cursed at his mother, kept a notepad in his back pocket and a pen in the front, he divided her bad habits between the two of them. In the summer she carried him home from the forest. In the winter she said, “I’ll be your present, you can unwrap me.” He was harmless only when he was sleeping and in the end she left him in a dream.
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Comments: Read 9 or Add Your Own.
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Thursday, December 20th, 2007
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We decide to meet in Mexico. The horns honking outside my window sound like a marching band rising just early enough to annoy me. It’s a city of smog and music and history and couples everywhere groping on benches. Last time I was here I saw a man jump to his death, looking at the building now it doesn’t seem so high. I found a kitten in a castle, I found a good place to lose my money, a good place to lose sleep or an appetite, which ever comes first. A grasshopper, a nicer hotel than mine renovated from the 5th floor up, a flame-thrower and a child dressed as a donkey begging for money. I woke up from a dream laughing and tried to explain to him but it really wasn’t that funny after all. I thought about forty candles and that crooked print that never straightens in my bedroom and my sisters ever growing hair, about Gracie with her head shoved in the pillow. I put the headphones on in the airplane, window seat, stars up clouds down. We curved towards Chicago like those planes always do as Chopin rang and the heavens shone we dipped below lightening and cold and arrived back to this fucking place. A lion looked straight into me through the dividing glass and turned back around, canned tomatoes and Bukowski. Driving on ice is unpleasant. Our eyes met across the bar not once but four times before I realized who was standing in front of me. His breath was heavy with whiskey and outside when he talked about the Omaha shootings his accent was stronger than ever. None of this will make sense to you.
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Thursday, November 22nd, 2007
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Friday, October 26th, 2007
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And he shows me his notebooks, scraps of paper on a silver platter
And we talk endlessly about politics and aesthetics
And they teach me dirty phrases in French, I tell them my favorite models, actresses
We take photos and tell stories maybe you know
But I keep my secrets to myself
And we reminisce about foreign places, maybe you’ll go
But it won’t be the same, it’s your singing voice I have heard
And gracie curls up next to me at the end of the night, so I am happy
And in the morning I will write the words into this lackluster melody
That you won’t recite, I erase it again till I get it right
And we all love the people that will love us back, or we try to
But don’t worry the sun rises and sets each day without fail
I'll repeat days gone by, a weathered tale
And we all need someone who understands or atleast pretends to
What more can you ask of a crumbling castle made of sand
So tonight you don’t needn’t worry darlin
The train will keep going, the tide will change, the chorus will fade out
And youll turn the page and everything will seem simpler in the morning
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Comments: Read 15 or Add Your Own.
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Thursday, October 4th, 2007
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The wind blew the smoke from your cigarette towards the bookshelf, paintings on the wall, swirled through the empty cage, old letters in the drawer. I talked quietly about the seaside and the sunshine. You write in white ink, you sing with your mouth closed. The frightened bird flying over and over into the glass window pane shook with my fingers cupped holding it but was free soon as I opened the door wide and tossed my arms towards the sky. He sleeps with one hand around my throat, one between my legs. So you follow the moon, the speckled horse, the river gone dry after running its course and maybe return back again.
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Comments: Read 8 or Add Your Own.
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Saturday, September 22nd, 2007
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Tuesday, September 4th, 2007
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Wednesday, August 29th, 2007
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He said, “How do you sleep at night” to which I replied “I just sleep in the morning.”
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Comments: Read 5 or Add Your Own.
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Tuesday, August 21st, 2007
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Thursday, August 9th, 2007
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I watched a boy sleeping on the train and didn’t really care about what he was dreaming, instead imagined what he looked like having sex. I floated in a pool for three hours till my skin was brown and like a raisin. I had chocolate cake for dinner. I helped walk my sister home when the sun was coming up, our heels clacking loudly in the street. I caught a moth, its diaphanous wings leaving dust on my hands. I started reading a book about the history of machines but then decided to play with my cat. I tried on five different outfits before leaving that night. I ate a green apple loudly on the bus and listened to a petulant child whine about toys. I sat with my father and looked at photos of our family. I found 20 dollars on the ground and a Lanvin dress at the thrift store for 90 cents. I tried to do a cartwheel and fell over. I attempted to clean but ended up shoving everything into a big pile. I stopped checking the time. I had blood taken and almost passed out. I gave a friend a worry-doll even though I’m running out of them. I took embarrassing pictures with too many people. I practiced my French and minded my manners. I danced so much the next day some of my toes were numb. I lost my voice, it still sounds like shit. I wrote something on a piece of paper then erased it. I lay on the wet grass staring up at the trees while fireflies flickered and bats swooped down overhead. I put my hands over my eyes, pulled them away and you were still there.
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a room full of smoke creeps out under the door
and a smile so secret even her mouth didn’t know what it was for
an airplane, a train ride, the turn of a season
so I’ll tell you a story if you promise to listen
about clumsy hands on the keys
a severed tale of time lost in a drink
words stumbling as we fall down that hole again figure out the division
of where the night’s gonna end and the morning begin
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Comments: Read 16 or Add Your Own.
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Saturday, June 23rd, 2007
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driving down those highways again
my heads spinning on your compass rose the trees pass by faster than friends I used to know
look up raise our hands
every night we can march right back into the sea
and every morning will wake with the most beautiful vision of clarity
but don’t let that tide carry where you don’t want to go
our half bottle of wine, unfinished song on the piano
have you seen my new act?
it’s real easy for me to disappear
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Today was absolutely beautiful in every sense of the word. I'm going back to Miami for a while, I'm going back to a better way of spending my time.
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Comments: Read 19 or Add Your Own.
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Spent the weekend out of Chicago, in New York running through the streets, doors in out till the sun was coming up , sung at the top of my lungs, sung together in ridiculous melodies and I lay my head on my sisters shoulder and woke to the soft tinkling of a piano, looked out the airplane window, looked out the cab window hair whipping in my face, looked out my bedroom window the ivy blocking the view and thought of a boy who I’ve loved for years and maybe all those words those beautiful days will come back to us, and don’t we deserve that?
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Comments: Read 27 or Add Your Own.
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Wednesday, May 16th, 2007
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We walked the five miles home that day the blocks taking us down the streets like a river, letting the breeze blow everything away. Collecting pine cones tying ribbons around our wrists spotting rabbits catching ladybugs the light in our eyes, clean
These past weeks have lent a sort of clearness to me, a realization of the inconsequential details, distractions, people I spin into my web far too often, the reasons I pull those covers back over my head.
I’m ready for warm nights driving next to you, the salty ocean that’s gonna soak into my skin, and I'll drink in the sun, wake up to a feeling that's true
And he said we look timeless like a love that knows no distance, in the spring everything grows again
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When I was very young I would turn the air conditioner on in my moms car, full blast on my face and close my eyes pretending I was out of Florida and somewhere that had seasons, that snowed, anywhere else. Winter always seemed like such a lovely time to me, the pureness of fresh snow, how quiet things became, how much clearer the sky was at night. I wanted so badly to be there.
As I grew older I began to wish for much more complicated things, some ridiculous, some completely unattainable. And now as I sit on this chair writing this, the sun is peeking through the blinds, the cold air is swirling around my apartment and I am wishing for someone to go back to how they used to be and I will follow. But people don’t really change unless they want to and like most wishes, all the longing in the world wont help that….
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Comments: Read 3 or Add Your Own.
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Wednesday, April 11th, 2007
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I flew like a bird in circles around the room wishing someone would catch me
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shakeitfuckers's journal
