Friday, February 11, 2005
the linen shifted on his face and he opened his eyes. he focused on the tip of his nose, the horizon of pillow case, his flashing alarm clock. he closed his eyes. morning could wait.
he had chapped lips, and the orange juice he was drinking stung inside the cracks. his eyelids crunched in torment as he nursed his weathered lips with his prickly cactus tongue. he threw back his coffee like a shot of whiskey, hoping to stave off the dryness, but was instead assaulted by the flavour. the bitterness shocked his senses, grabbed his tastebuds, twisted and pulled them into a fiery agony.
the cup hit the floor, sending up a mushroom cloud of ceramic and liquid. hot brew stained his ugly socks. he danced an angry jig in the puddle, scalding his toes.
he yelled. he bellowed curses to the heavens from the depths of his lungs. anger boiled amongst the brimstone of his stomach. the purgatory of his heart judged all souls. his sharp words whipped the shattered mug, the soiled linoleum, the clock that insisted he was late, the air that propelled his very speech, and when there was nothing left to lash, he sat.
and as the isle of man sat, he polluted the muddy lake of coffee with tears.
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
i go outside expecting stars
viewing haziness instead
the moon and my ambitions both overcast
by the criticism of elders
i haven't bothered to change
my tear stained shirt
choosing to wipe my eyes
with my sleeve again
my stomach growls
prompting giggles
the skies clear
and i promise myself
i'll start saving...
after i buy
those moccasins i saw at aldo
this is my profile. go to it at your own discretion.
anyway, around 4 o'clock this afternoon i made a phone call.
to a person i didn't know.
named Peter.
in Summerside...
Prince Edward Island!
He had a room for rent available at the beginning of the summer...everything about it was perfect except for the fact that there were 2 guys in the house. Peter said the room wasn't suitable for a young lady. He had an accent! That was the best part.
Long distance phone charges can bite me.
Monday, January 24, 2005
i would tell you how i feel but you don't care
i say tell me the truth but you don't dare
you say love is a hell you cannot bear
i say gimme mine back and then go there
for all i care
i got my feet on the ground
and i don't go to sleep to dream
you got your head in the clouds
you're not at all what you seem
"sleep to dream"-fiona apple
FREE FIONA!
that is all.
Sunday, January 23, 2005
i belong on the east coast
the coast where fish no longer exist...but everyone still tries to catch them anyway
the place where boats are a part of the family
and no one understands having a goldfish as a pet
i belong on the east coast, where the wind is your father
rain is your sister
and snow is your best friend
i want to own a snowmobile
sail to the grocery store
drive nowhere
i belong on the east coast
where grain products are a delicacy
and seafood is my sustenance
i belong on the east coast
where my soul is constantly wet, cold
and content
Saturday, January 22, 2005
my cat doesn't match my lipstick
i've got my red lipstick on
black leather boots
and a killer pair of jeans
i'm wearing my cat like a scarf
normally he'd be complaining
but he understands the fashion crisis
it's too bad he's orange
because he doesn't match my lipstick
Friday, January 21, 2005
i have no dignity
it's left me and been replaced with an addiction
i beg of you, pull smokes for me
i will give you gas money
and my soul
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
i lay my head unto the sand
the sky resembles a backlit canopy
with holes punched in it
i'm counting UFOs
i signal them with my lighter
and in this moment
i am happy
happy
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
"say it out loud, bitch."
that's what i wanted to tell my english teacher today. I handed in an assignment and i asked if it could be one of the examples she read to the class. i wanted those people to know i can write. i hate it when people look down on me. so what i'm hardly ever there? i don't need english class. i've read everything on the curriculum and most of the books the teachers choose on their own, i don't need to be there for the shit they spew about literature i know as well as they do.
anyway, so she read it and i could see her pleasure as she did. she loved it. she adored it! my piece was the highlight of her boring, unproductive, uninspiring day. and she did say it out loud.
"and this is the kind of writing that will get you an A, no matter how late the assignment itself is."
ahhh....praise. and a little bit of resentment.
i love being smart.
Monday, January 17, 2005
I just bought Incubus' Morning View album and it is impossible to describe the extent of my love for it. Every single fucking song on this cd is damn good and every hour I have a new favourite. My affection for this album is unimaginable, unmanageable, crazylicious and, as Nick put it, probably a dangerous medical condition. I will never stop loving this album and in 20 years when someone asks me who the love of my life is, I will say "Morning View". And that will be the truth.
