love is a dress that you wear long to hide your knees.

exhausted

2008-09-09T19:20:42Z

i'm home from new york city. time of my life, everything i hoped it would be and more. tons of alcohol, sightseeing, dancing, smoking like a chimney. love my cousin, love her fiance, love their lives together. met a girl and had my eyes opened for the first time. she's beautiful, i can't get her out of my head, and i'll never see her again. witnessed a violent act against someone i love and saw us come through it on top. climbed ten million flights of stairs. learned to love tomatoes and cheese. saw my first broadway play, fell in love with that as well. experienced a new world that i now don't know how to live without. got my fill, crave more and more and more. can't wait til october and the rooftop wedding and a hostel i'll be sleeping in and more of the same.

____cassiopeia @ 2008-08-26T16:34:00

2008-08-26T23:36:30Z

"four worms. there are three types of people: you with them, them with you, and you against them. my mother told me if you can't resist the crowd, join it. i stopped being me, now i only create. the worms have eaten me, they're inside my head. they have four names: faith, disillusionment, passion, fear. four worms."

i found this written in russian on some young man's livejournal. i called my dad in, asked him to translate. upon finishing, he straightened up and scoffed, "that's some artistic bullcrap."

i beg to differ. i think it's beautiful.

2 more days.

2008-08-25T05:53:39Z

"i'm leavin' on a jet plane, don't know when i'll be back again..."

two more days til i'm on that plane to new york city, a week of adventure and dancing and sweating and sightseeing and smoking and drinking and reconnecting and living.

i can't wait. =]

glee!

2008-08-22T06:03:33Z

it's going to be a long night.

i finally finished updating my iTunes and now i'm downloading 100+ rare DMB tracks. just to keep me occupied on the plane next week. countdown to New York is only 6 days now.

i don't know why i post here with weird daily updates, but it makes me a little happy.

____cassiopeia @ 2008-08-20T19:53:00

2008-08-21T02:58:23Z

i'm teetering on the fence between disappointment and elation.

angela and chris got back together after a couple months of separation. i'm just remembering where all of her problems started; how he limited what she could wear, what she could eat, who she could talk to...i remember her calling the cops on him when he showed up, drunk, at her condo, threatening her while at the same time, pleading that she take him back.

i wanted to wave that big red flag, but i couldn't, not with her all full of happy sighs and that warm glow that i haven't seen her wear in so long. i told her, promise me that if any of that shit starts up again, you'll leave. she promised.

good thing is, he told her that he wanted nothing to do with her unless she started eating again. my fingers are crossed that she'll start to gain weight. i hate seeing her wasting away like she is.

i was saddened, though, maybe disappointed, admitting to myself that i had always hoped that one night we would get drunk enough together that i could just take her into my arms, kiss her all over. we joked about it, and i always thought it was a joke. maybe i was only kidding myself, thinking i didn't actually want to love her and protect her and keep her close and safe.

chris called her while we were sitting together having a smoke at work and when he asked what she was up to, she looks at me and grins, "I'm with ashleigh, my BESTIE!" it made my heart happy to be someone's best friend.

i'm just keeping my fingers crossed that this works for her, because i love her too much to see her get hurt again, and when the time does come, i'll be the one here, waiting to pick up the pieces.

shock.

2008-08-20T06:06:02Z

LeRoi Moore is dead. The music that helped me through some of my darkest days will never be the same.

I was going to write a big retrospective blog about what the Dave Matthews Band has done for me, but I'm in too much shock, too sad, too tired to write it out. They were something that cannot be describe in any words I currently possess. I'm just heartbroken that one of the greatest saxaphonists of the 21st century has passed at such a young age. I found out today on my break, perusing LiveJournal on my phone. When I went back inside, I couldn't look anyone in the face lest the see the tears in my eyes. It's like a beloved friend is gone.

LeRoi, you will be missed. The world goes on a bit dimmer without your music to bring light into the dark places. Rest in peace.

i don't understand.

2008-08-19T04:46:16Z

i could have been so much for him. he cries about having no one to talk to and when i come along with an open heart and open ears, suddenly he's OK with being a sad, lonely fuck.

i miss him.

what makes my company so unpleasant? why is my willingness to stand by, to love unconditionally so unwelcome?

i don't understand.

[edit]

i want to tear out my eyes. there is so much beauty in the world that my sick fuck mind does not deserve to see.

____cassiopeia @ 2008-08-18T17:10:00

2008-08-19T00:22:35Z

i like to people watch. i think it's one of my downfalls; the watching makes me so eager to speak to these people but the stories i make up in my head about them never match the truth, so i'm always left to disappointment. i can sit for ages with a cup of coffee outside starbucks and watch people coming in and out. i smoke cigarettes and blow smoke and the book i'm holding is only for show; i can't concentrate for more than a few seconds if there are people around. the urge to stare and question and imagine is too great.

it's the worst with men. i can see a young man just for a few seconds, a passing glance unrequited on the street and already my head is spinning tales of what could possibly be going on in his life. i judge by clothing, by hairstyle, by height and weight and gait. i imagine their girlfriends or boyfriends, the sort of house they live in, what their lips taste like and if they prefer beer to liquor. funny thing is, every story i make up is the same. every guy i see lives the life i wish i were living. it never falters. i live vicariously through the fictional lives of strangers.

there is always a small apartment, modest but expensive, with swedish furniture and eclectic music memorabilia. sometimes there is a record player and a collection of LPs worth bragging about, but sometimes just an iHome tucked away on a bookshelf (of which they are plenty). these imaginary boys are always vivacious readers, eager consumers of culture, able to speak enthusiastically under the influence of wine about bands i've never heard of but really should know. they are always good cooks.

usually i imagine jobs i wish i had, or some variation of the one i do. they are baristas for independent coffee shops, ones that don't steal your soul and make you bend over to offer yourself assbackwards to the demanding customer. they work in bookstores and are quiet and modest, never at the counter but instead found stocking the shelves in the foriegn literature section. yes, they always speak a second language and yes, it is usually german. other times, they work in jobs they hate but daydream about they day that they can throw the apron to the floor, shrug off the corporate shackles and fuck the whole world away, escape to that modest apartment and throw paint on a canvas, call it modern art. these boys always have big ideas, big dreams, but most are too tightly bound by their conditions to live that dream.

they always smoke but not in excess. most drink but not to the point of belligerance. they are kind and funny, witty and gentle. they are fantastic lovers and are always OK with my refusal to part my legs. they give amazing oral sex and we are always left satisfied.

this from a few seconds glance, a passing thought. my mind runs away with me. i create these characters that i would so love to be (to be with). yet should i ever dislodge my foot from my mouth and calm my beating heart and learn to breathe evenly enough to go up, to speak and introduce myself, i am so overwhelmed by how different they are from what i had pictured that i am disgusted, uninterested.

my addiction makes common human interaction nearly impossible. everyone is capable of disappointment and in their ability to fulfill that, they find the one expectation i have that is never, ever let down.

there is nothing for which i'm responsible for.

2008-08-17T17:08:49Z

i went to san fransisco yesterday to see brady after so long of not being able to be around him.

he didn't show.

i sat at the steps of golden gate park and watched the tourists, smoked lighting the new cigarette from the butt of the other. i checked my phone every five minutes and stole a terrified 5 minutes to run into a store to use the bathroom, terrified he would have come and gone while i was away.

when he called, 2 hours after i'd gotten there, he said that he'd falled back asleep and he'd be there as soon as humanly possible. once i knew that, i could relax a little. i walked up and down geary and market street, powell and bush, looking in boutiques that i could never dream of affording. more smoking. more people watching. i loved being in the city by myself and wearing something stylish and feeling like i fit in.

once he got there, i was miserable for all the wrong reasons. he hugged me passionately, spoke enthusiastically about the good things happening in both our lives. he held my hand, opened doors for me, bought me lunch and offered to buy me everything i laid my eyes on. he was fantastic, and i hated it. i couldn't allow myself to enjoy a man being so good to me. in my head, the whole day, i was just pleading, "please, don't touch me." why on earth would a self-respecting man want to...dote...on me? it was foriegn and i didn't know what to do with it.

i hate that i don't feel like i deserve anything good. that it's been so long since i've been held that now, when someone tries, i see it is an attack and all those muscles in my body go tense and i practically will him to let me go.

my head is broken.

____cassiopeia @ 2008-08-12T13:09:00

2008-08-12T20:12:50Z

"but me, i'm a single cell
on a serpent's tongue
there's a muddle field
where a garden was
and i'm glad you got away,
but i'm still stuck out here
my clothes are soaking wet
from your brother's tears."

i'm going to go out, go to the library, find some free books because i have no money to spare. i'm going to sit around at starbucks and smoke lots of cigarettes, drink coffee with lots of sweetener and read, work on my cross stitch, wait for my shift to start. tonight, i'm going to spend time with my best girl friends, get sloppy drunk, baptize myself in change in a jacuzzi bath tub and emerge someone different.

i am going to enjoy my day.

"the end of paralysis
i was a statuette
now i'm drunk as hell
on a piano bench
and when i press the keys
it all get's reversed
the sound of lonliness
makes me happier..."

seriously. SERIOUSLY?!

2008-08-11T05:04:39Z

what kind of person says, "yeah, lunch on monday sounds great! call on sunday and we'll work it out!"...and then ignores all calls, texts, and facebook messages?

i'm trying so hard to be good at this "social" thing and i think that i'm failing pretty epically. or maybe i'm just picking assholes who can't stand to be honest and say, no thank you, i'm busy. or fuck, to even tell me that they just don't want to hang out. it'd hurt, but i think it'd hurt less than getting my hopes up and being encouraged, then let down and ignored.

and here's the kicker: it happens all the goddamned time. really only jennifer and angela make and KEEP plans with me. but once you throw a cock in the mix, suddenly they're all cowardly bastards who can't stand to tell me anything to my face and i'm left disappointed, time and time again.

i wish i could stop. stop asking, stop seeking people out, stop...trying. but i'm eternally hopeful. i gotta see the good in people even when i'm constantly being let down, because once i stop, once i let the bad inside my head, i'll never get away from it. i'll become bitter and hateful and less of a person that people want to be around. i have to believe in outside circumstances, that they don't mean to hurt me, that "something just came up"...but really, i'm just tired. i want to sleep all day and not worry about trying to make plans or be social. it's not working. i'm failing at this "life" thing and it hurts to know that i'm not good at basic human contact (despite how badly i want to be).

holding out hope. waiting and wishing. my day will come when people will realize that i'm worth the time, that i'm worth being loved.

"Every form of happiness is private. Our greatest moments are personal, self-motivated, not to be touched. Those things which are sacred or precious to us are the things we withdraw from promiscuous sharing. But now we are taught to throw everything within us into public light and common pawing. To seek joy in meeting halls. We haven’t even got a word for the quality I mean—for the self-sufficiency of man’s spirit. It’s difficult to call it selfishness or egotism, the words have been perverted, they’ve come to mean Peter Keating. I’ve always demanded a certain quality in the people I liked. I’ve always recognized it at once—and it’s the only quality I respect in men. I chose my friends by that. Now I know what it is. A self-sufficient ego. Nothing else matters. I even admit that I love them. But I couldn’t love them if they were my chief reason for living. If one doesn’t respect oneself one can have neither love nor respect for others. I could die for you. But I couldn’t and wouldn’t live for you."

____cassiopeia @ 2008-08-08T15:38:00

2008-08-08T22:39:12Z

i have a migraine. all i can think about is sleeping. i don't want to be at work for the next six hours.

=[

fuck.

2008-08-04T05:48:32Z

joe called me from iraq. i was working though, so i couldn't talk, but i half shouted into the phone over static and lag time that i'd try to call him back later on his haji cell phone. when i did, an hour later, sitting outside nervously sucking on a cigarette, it just rang and rang through miles of telephone wire, under the ocean and across a nation and in every ring, i heard his abscence.

he didn't answer. so i called erik instead. he was sleepy and i could picture him on the couch with a drink in hand, bleary eyed and needing a shower. that's usually how i find him. we talked for a bit, nothing consequential, and when i told him about joe's missed call i could hear the sympathy in his voice. he might be coming down to vacaville this weekend. shopping at the outlets, he says. i can help him pick out new clothes.

i don't trust any of his promises and i'm not getting my hopes up. i can't afford to.

i've been trying to think of the people i still have and not focus on the ones scattered to all corners of the globe, but it's hard, and i hurt with this hole in me that all these lost ones have left.

smiles

2008-08-01T17:19:22Z

drinking til late with angela, talking about snatches and tits and scarves and boys who don't call back, sharing a bed and waking up to coffee and a cute boy signing the lease. it's a shame i had to come home to this hovel but now i know i've got someplace to go.

(i love my new-found girlfriend. >.< )

____cassiopeia @ 2008-07-30T16:51:00

2008-07-30T23:54:07Z

i should have never gone this weekend. some stupid pandora's box has been opened and i can't stop thinking about him. but it's not him, really, i think he's just a stand-in for everything i don't have. he is a face that i can put to my longing for something different. i don't miss him, so i don't understand this tugging in my chest and this..sadness. he and i were nothing good and hold no promise of anything good to come, so i can't figure out why his name is on my lips.

i think i just miss everyone who has left. all this lips gone scattered across california that i will most likely never taste again. erik just happens to be the one that i still talk to. he can be the one that bears this weight, because frankly, i don't know where else to put it.

le sigh. i need to go on a date with someone stable, who doesn't already have a girlfriend.

..or maybe i need a girlfriend myself. fuck me sideways, i just don't know anymore.

i am florence nightingale...

2008-07-30T05:10:20Z

...but i can't fix any of the broken people in my life.

i'm so tired of being surrounded by pieces and not being able to put anything back together.

____cassiopeia @ 2008-07-29T16:54:00

2008-07-30T00:05:16Z

i used to take the long way home from work so that i could drive by your house. on warm nights the garage would be open and i could glimpse you sitting at your computer, or plucking away at the guitar, or talking with your friends all laughing and happy. it was just a second, but it was a tiny window into your life that i relished in.

on nights when we worked together, i would hold my breath until the moment we clocked out and hope hope that you would ask for a ride home. it became habit, though, for you to ask and for me to nod my head and smile without saying anything so that no one would notice. we wouldn't talk the whole shift save for the time or two we'd be alone in drive through and you'd pinch my ass while i was taking an order. 5 hours building up to the moment when we could leave in the same car.

i liked your naked body. i liked to watch you touch yourself. i liked the way you tried to carry on a conversation with me while i blew you. i liked the slender strength of your dick. i liked your tongue in my cunt. i liked all of it. it made my heart race and my palms sweat and i felt dirty with this secret that i kept for so long.

when we stopped talking it was devestating and i pleaded with you over long emails to forgive me for whatever unknown offense i had committed while feigning indifference around everyone else. i got on board with them, all talking behind your back, all scoffing at how standoffish and rude you could be. i used to defend you but then i stopped seeing the point. and all the while, i missed you.

you're gone now. we don't speak anymore. i still remember the way you taste, though, and bring to the forefront of my mind those secret nights we shared together when i am lonely and want to remember what it's like to be touched.

all the while, i miss you.

i am on the mend.

2008-07-28T22:46:28Z

i am exhausted but happy after the close of the weekend. it was exactly what i wanted (for the most part). i'm always pleased to spend time with my loves in davis and seeing erik after so long scratched some itch deep inside my brain and left me feeling relieved and satisfied.

saturday night was ridiculous; long and fun and tiring. courtney went to be early...i don't think the little wino holds her liquor well. xP casey, TJ and i stayed up late, talking about our respective lives and loves and the troubles accompanying both. i feel bad for casey. i don't know if chip is really "in the hospital" or if he's using that as an excuse not to call him. if it's the latter, it's a shitty thing to do. casey is a beautiful person and deserves better than that. i kept trying to urge him into letting down his inhibitions and letting TJ and I make him feel good, but he was insistant on keeping whatever contact we shared plutonic. they aren't even officially dating and he's setting himself up to be hurt in the long run. but he's in love; i'm just as blind when i'm seeing someone and i understand why he's so prone to shut out the voice of reason.

seeing erik was...interesting. in a good way, of course. he was hungover when i arrived, stillw earing yesterdays clothes, so i gladly sat in his new apartment and smoked one of his cigarettes while he showered. it was strange, seeing his new place. i told him that it was like someone played dressup in his clothes. it looks familiar, but it isn't really him. i wanted his old apartment back; the place that i had grown to love and hate so deeply.

we drove out to the farm, so disconnected from society, and i met his whole family. they're painfully sweet and i just can't see how my erik fits in with this family of farmers. i can't picture him working out in the fields, driving a tractor, harvesting rice and picking almonds. it's foriegn. i see him in cafes in France, translating Homer, listening to Bob Dylan and smoking. not farming. but regardless...we drove out through the orchards and into the far reaches of the rice paddies and he explained to me how everything worked - how they flooded and drained the fields, what equipment they used to harvest the almonds, etc. aside from that we didn't talk much, but the scenery was beautiful and rufus wainwright was playing on the stereo, so i was calm and content.

aside from that, we just spent time in his apartment, talking about old times. i'm so very tired of having to rehash the "why did we break up?" question every time i see him now. it was a horrible, tumultous relationship and i'm glad to see it done. i'm glad that i'm finally over him and i can love him like a brother, not a boyfriend, and there is no awkwardness there. but now, as soon as i reach this point, he's pining after me, wanting to cuddle, stroke my hair, talk about everything that went wrong and what we could have done to avoid it. the tables have turned and i hated having to be the mature one, moving away when he sat to close and explaining to him why it would NOT be a good idea for us to take a nap together. he required constant denial and explanation, and i felt like i was dealing with a very small child. it's OK, though, i understand his shortcomings and his lonliness and i care for him regardless.

driving home made me realize that i am terrified of the dark. my knuckles were sore from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. :-/

now, a day later, i'm still tired and sore from being in the car for so long. i do hope to see him again soon as that as the time passes we continue relearning how to be around eachother. there will always be some tinge of awkwardness, i think...but it's getting better.

i thought that I could be the one to part the clouds before the sun above her

2008-07-26T17:10:46Z

i'm nervous. just a little. tomorrow i'm driving the long and straight road to chico to visit erik. it's been about 2 months and last time we saw eachother we had brady as a buffer between us. i'm not sure how it's going to go. on the phone, it's all good and pleasant; he sounds excited and eager to have me come visit and see his hometown. it's just what happens when we're together, when he's drunk and i'm high and we both lose that little bit of moral concience either one of us has left.

i'm not in any way attracted to him, but he's so goddamned persuasive. i need to keep my wits about me. there is a place where my desperation to be touched meets his drunken ways with words and that is the place that i need to avoid.

but still, i am excited to be venturing out on my own and getting to spend time with him again after so long. i'm leaving straight from davis tomorrow morning and hopefully i won't be too hungover from tonight.

yeah, after work today is casey, courtney and TJ + plenty of vodka and corona and lots of love and happiness. i'll try and put off thinking about tomorrow until the morning; i want to be able to enjoy myself today.

i'm going to go try and buy a hat. i got my hair cut yesterday and it's cute, but my bangs were a hack job. thanks, hair dresser. i like having super short crooked bangs that don't look good no matter HOW you comb them. lovely.

____cassiopeia @ 2008-07-26T00:06:00

2008-07-26T07:08:04Z

i love working with frank. that kid is stoned outta his mind 90 percent of the time but he's still the best partner we've had in a long, long time. if smoking a j before he comes to work means that he puts up with drivethrough without a word of complaint, then shit, i'll buy the weed for him myself.

wilkommen!

2008-07-25T20:33:11Z

so, i'm going to reacquaint myself with this livejournal. my myspace blogging has grown overrated and there are to many people who know my name and face. this holds a certain amount of anonymity that i need. (i like to talk a lot of shit, see. xP)

i did just go through and delete all of the old entries here. to think, i was 15 when this journal was concieved! god, i wrote well but it was all so lovesick and bitter. back then, writing wasn't a chore. it was a necessity, as much as water or air. now i'm out of practice and everything sounds disjointed. but i'm sure i'll get back into it.

i used to say that i'm writing to preserve the day to day bullshit so that someday, someone will be able to read back and find marks of my existance. what's the point, though, if it's all electronic and i delete everything? too bad i'm far too lazy to keep a paper journal.

so now i'm here, i'm happy with being single and empowered, i'm a sophmore in college as opposed to a sophmore in highschool (OMG young.) and i'm learning how to love myself and the people in my life more and more each day.

time for x-files with mum and dad. yeeee!
♥

will and me - dominic dromgoole

2007-09-08T01:17:30Z

"but what they are doing, exessively and stupidly and heroically, is what all of us are doing every day. making an effort.this is what struck me like a baseball bat as i read this play. being human is not a given. it is an effort. each day we try to be human, each day we suceed a little, and fail a little. but each new day we try again. antony and cleopatra try further, they try to be hugely human, living out our potential for us. we don't want their excess, but we celebrate them for taking so far what all of us do in a minor key. and just as they work against the odds, so do we. every day is minefield of knocks and blows and comic falls that could break us and leave us crumpled on the floor. yet every day we make the effort to get ourselves upright. two of shakespeare's most comically silly and tragically glorious creations show us how."