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[10 Nov 2009|01:09am] |
pumpkin granola, and ginger almond and cashew granola, with freeze dried blueberries and soymilk.
2 cups of coffee with soymilk but I'm cutting down on caffeine effective immediately.
two slices of whole grain bread, toasted, one with hummus and tomatoes and salt and black pepper , the other with almond butter and sliced apples and cinnamon. no sugar on that.
a grande ginger twist tea w/ 2 sugar in the raw, a small bite of a vegan chocolate chip cookie.
then late, had one cup of trader joe's garden veggie soup, with a generous amount of chana masala spice, and one small clementine.
I dunno if that's enough food or if its too many carbs, idk.
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Comments: Crack the sidewalk.
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| 'm lucky to be under this same sky that held the exhale from your first breath |
[23 Sep 2009|04:18am] |
27. at a coffeeshop in some other city. drinking strong black coffee, tea in a silky satchet with twigs and dry flowers out of oversized mugs with an oversized bag with sweet musky tomes. reading lines to each other and smiling in understanding. reaching smooth hands across the round table to be warm and soft inside each others.
37. in a room soft burgundy carpeted a fireplace which may or may not be used but either way blackened by ash. ashtrays now hopefully relics of a jinx removed. newish folds in our skin that neither of us are ashamed of. retiring to a very small bed in a somewhat larger room. that comforter... soft faded and maybe still we can smell buried deep in its fibers the grass that cradled our first trembling lip-touching moments 17 years prior. hearts that through years of warm company now beat in perfect time. i put my head on your bare chest and you look down at the nest of black and now more unicorn white hair that just looks like home to you now. crinkles grow deeper by your impossibly blue ocean eyes which soften and glisten. you cradle my eternal birdchest with one of your long smooth arms, softened inked marks on the satinpaper skin.
47 and maybe we have a fishtank in our living room with sea creatures both beautiful and awkward ugly that we love all the same. two maybe three tiny yellow ones so we never forget those moments in the tired achey hallway and how your love buoyed my weary heart in that storm. a green iguana lounges huge and doglike across the top of an aged velvety armchair and when she lifts her head to be touched by our fingers we remember that blessed awkward little girl that lived in my first room. these are our children. your 20/20 vision has slipped a little and you can see life in soft focus like i do when you take off your academic horn rimmed squarish glasses. we have a globe resting on speakers that connect to a record player, a greater rarity than ever in 2046 (forgive my math but i shan't check it). the globes colors are rich and we know where zimbabwe is because maybe we have felt its dirt under our fingertips, worldly free humans that we are.
57 and our scaly friend is dignified and gentle, still basks in our living room and revels in our touch. appropriately coddled girl who still energetically chomps at tenderly grown plump raspberries. we have a kitchen modest but so functional with a large floor that we lower our hips to late some precious nights and our eyes gleam into each others and we smile because never have we forgotten, still spooning collaborative soups into our mouths from smooth bowls. we have amassed a collection of saucepans for all uses and grow a variety of vegetables that we have learned to prepare hundreds of ways without glancing at recipes. we can anticipate ever move of each others bodies we are familiar with every shape each others mouths could ever take on. if we were in a small room in a monastery with its wooden door closed we could recognize each others footsteps outside from a line of hundreds without a moments hesitation. i still feel an electricity when my fingers graze your skin and reach into your hair which i cut for you, a little shorter than before. when we climb into our loveworn bed i still tremble as our skin collides and we feel our familiar bones moving together as one. i cradle a thinner wiser hand around your great and beautiful head and brush my lips against your ear as i whisper "you're all i need, [you], i'm all yours, i'm all yours"
67 and the joints of your candlehands are larger, knuckles swelled but when i take them into my thin fingers i can seep any tightness or discomfort out of them and smile at you, loving still the shape of your fingers and the feel of your skin. you look more handsome than ever in your tweed coat and we both find terribly funny your wooden pipe that has never held any tobacco, the twinkle in your sea turtle eyes as it dangles from your lips and you peer at me over the frames of your glasses at a curious and quizzical angle. my lined lips curve in a smile and spread over my aged she-wolf teeth. we are both as broad and read and loved by those who matter (us) as dictionaries.
77...................and.... forgive me. i am in our small bed, heavy eyelids blinking over shining eyes, gazing up at your face and though my corneas are clouded i know every millimeter of your skin without any need for sight. your gnarled fingers grip my brittle thin ones with love that has never wavered or faded only swelled with every beat of our hearts, tick of the clock. my hair is now all shining white and in a defiant frizz. though i haven't smoked a cigarette in decades all the splinters of filter i inhaled when i was younger are taking their toll still. in a bizarre moment i whisper something to you and you make a phone call and i close my eyes and when i open them again you have found for me a pack of nat shermans and they rest on the bedside table with a smooth metal lighter. you place one to my lips, flick the flame, and all at once the smoke surrounds as and brings us careening back to our youth with more intensity than we could have anticipated. your back is curved now and you unwaveringly watch my face and how i exhale the smoke from my throat no different than i ever had.
when the time comes you are by my side and in hushed tones we describe our love for each other in the richest words known to man, an ode to our eternal love. we've lived and loved so intensely that when death came he had nothing left to take. not a single goddamn thing and
even one hundred million years from now the love we make is still putting out.
I love you, [you]. You are all I want, all I need, all I could ever want. I am all yours. For always.
With the endless love in my newly awoken heart and all the sincerity this world has known, I love you.
Sincerely, [me].
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Comments: Crack the sidewalk.
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[03 Aug 2009|09:41pm] |
Drinking slippery elm tea for my sore throat. Eating wasabi peas to clear my sinuses. Also ingesting black bean soup with brown rice and lots of soymilk/almond butter/chocolate sauce smoothies so I don't lose even more weight like I always do when I'm sick.
I'm at like 92 pounds and I'd like to be 95+.
Saw Andrew Jackson Jihad yesterday and it was awesome, though.
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Comments: 4 Weeds - Crack the sidewalk.
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[01 Aug 2009|06:17pm] |
Facebook URL:
facebook.com//itcouldblindus
That seems much easier.
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Comments: Crack the sidewalk.
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[10 Jul 2009|10:27pm] |
Friends.
Maybe I should wear longer shorts? Hmm.
Climbing on the train by the flea market. I bought a ukelele for 12 bucks, I should learn to play it now, preferably starting with wagon wheel.
lame.
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Comments: 6 Weeds - Crack the sidewalk.
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| No I won't take your hand, and marry the state. |
[04 Jul 2009|07:04pm] |
If you're like me then you're sick and tired of people blaming America for everything that's wrong with the world. Every action of self-defense or commerce undertaken by the USA is cast in the worst possible light and every national hero, new and old, is vilified as a tool in a monstrous system stretching back more than four centuries.
I want to puke my goddamn guts out every time I hear some grade F sissy rushing to apologize for something America did. These people even act like they feel embarrassed by the United States.
( God Bless America )
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Comments: 3 Weeds - Crack the sidewalk.
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[01 Jul 2009|09:51pm] |
I GOT A 97 ON MY MATH FINAL.
The last class I ever have to take at quinsig. I have an associates degree, I have a year sober, things are sooo good.
Went out to eat before the meeting last night with Chris, Angela, Jacqui, and Bobby. Chris got me a vegan carrot cake with two x'd up fists on it!
Inspired by the Teen Idles cover art, one of my favorite bands.
Plus a big "1" candle, for one year sober.
He's the best boyfriend ever.
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Comments: 1 Weed - Crack the sidewalk.
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[27 Jun 2009|09:59pm] |
Some music I used to listen to a lot, and should still.
Going to the go-go 15th anniversary party tonight.
Freakshow theme. I'm going as a bearded lady and so is Chris.
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Comments: 8 Weeds - Crack the sidewalk.
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| what a year. |
[26 Jun 2009|03:53pm] |
To look back on:I'm sitting at the bean counter with Holmes, doing math homework mostly, talking some, and listening to a little music. I have a bottle of water, a large coffee with soy, bits of a cupcake, bits of a cookie, and half a cup of red chili with a tortilla next to me. I'm wearing my sewn in sleeveless Aus Rotten shirt, given to me by Brux 2 years ago when we first met. The front shows someone bleeding out on a sidewalk, and reads "if only your veins were filled with oil, the world would rush to your rescue" The back has the logo including a large circle A and reads "people are not expendable. government is". Perhaps contrary to this I am wearing leopard print short shorts with pink piping, which I bought at the mall. Torn up converse which were once pink, then dyed black, and are now grey.
I am so happy with Chris that it's unreal.
I am even happier with myself, and that's even more unreal.
One of my best friends, when I first got sober, said I was becoming the person he always knew I was. I'm not there yet, but I'm closer than I've ever been.
and if I die tonight, then I guess I die tonight.
I've been sober for a solid year now, I never thought I could be this clear-headed, productive, and happy. I am more comfortable in my skin that I ever imagined I could be.
I'm proud of who I am, and I am starting not to hate who I've been.
I love everyone in my life so much. My heart is fairly bursting, at times.
Learning to forgive, myself, everyone else, but never forget.
It's been a hard year. I've cried and cried, but I've also laughed and danced more times than I can count.
Thank you to everyone that believed in me. Also thanks to everyone who didn't, including myself, because I've proved us all wrong.
Leave me a comment saying the best and worst things that have happened to you in the last 12 months.
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Comments: 1 Weed - Crack the sidewalk.
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| um |
[21 Jun 2009|11:39pm] |
Happy Birthday. If I didn't feel so sick right now I would be out celebrating it with everyone, but I'm there in spirit.
In other news,
Sometimes I wear dresses but not usually.
I wore it to dinner after my graduation.
( and )
Things are good. Summer of Worcester is:
-skinny dipping and danceparties and ridiculous shows,
-vegan feasts and food not bombs,
-Chris's haunted victorian mansion with more bathrooms than my house has rooms,
-getting supremely, achingly jealous while watching documentaries on trainhopping, and
-sitting in my room sometimes but still looking forward to having a tent instead of a room, -cautiously dumpster diving despite still being on probation,
-driving around smoking cigarettes even though I'm hating smoking cigarettes more and more every day,
- my new blue moped,it's a Puch Maxi and it's as old as I am.
-signing up for a mixtape club then only 4 hours later having someone run up to me with a tape with my name on it in the dark at a show, putting it in my hands, and running off again.
-staying up until the sun rises in the park near my house,
- riding bikes, getting lost in the woods, eating vegan brownie ice cream sundaes complete with vegan whipped cream,
- generally feeling sososo lucky.
I told Chris that if I ever had a traveling name it would be Lucky.
This was my summer outfit til it got cold and rainy and ick outside. I've had a few others, perhaps to be documented at some point.
Sorry all these pictures were taken by myself on my cellphone and generally suck.
Anyway, the song that's been keeping me sane lately is "heavy heart" by Jeffrey Lewis.
"Say you've got a heavy heart, yeah you've got a heavy load...
and you sure don't know, where you're going.
And I say
The sun dont know, when its glowing
The flower dont know, when its growing
The river dont know, when its flowing
You're doing better than you know
You're doing better than you know
Also, that girl in the previous post never did take down the entries she stole, and she's stolen writing from a number of other people's journals but, you know what? She's just a sad, empty soul and there's nothing I can do but feel bad for her and maybe hope that someday she feels like she's enough of a person that she doesn't have to pretend to be other people.
On Wednesday I will have a year sober and that's unreal.
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Comments: 6 Weeds - Crack the sidewalk.
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| facebook |
[06 Jun 2009|05:48pm] |
Okay, I haven't posted in almost a month, I guess we can blame facebook for that.
Speaking of facebook, leave your email address if you'd like to be added, comments are screened.
and just because, a picture of my friend Scott and I 5 or 6 years ago:
He's still one of my best friends.
I found it looking through my old livejournal. Weird.
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Comments: 2 Weeds - Crack the sidewalk.
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