Tuesday, August 30, 2011

I couldn't get the song "Gold Lion" by the Yeah Yeah Yeah's out of my head. So I juxtaposed some of it's lyrics with some writing of my own. It's experimentational, I liked the idea but haven't nailed the execution. I hope Karen O doesn't mind...

The sun dripped from the sky in golden drops, landing heavy on the leaves above, and sifted quietly through into shadowy fragments that painted your face, a lion of light.

"Gold lion's gonna tell me where the light is."

It was a kaleidescope day and the soft blue was the sky and the softer blue was the skies in your eyes reflecting my gold ones, again and again and again.

"Take our hands out of control."

And we were spinning.

"Take our hands out of control."

And we were running, but mostly looking.

"Tell me what you saw, I'll tell you what too."

Saturday, August 27, 2011

What a perfectly perfect day full of water falls and rain kisses and lightning and Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

I may be slightly jumbled, but I'm full. I'm happy. I'm stretching myself so thin and wide that you can see things through me. I'm transparent. And THAT is what finding yourself really is. It's finding what looks good through you and around you and how you spread yourself, and where. It's not focusing on you you you, it's focusing on everything else.

I wish I could capture it all and put it in glass mason jars and stack them around my room for decoration. I can feel the days become memories and I want to store them up tight.

Hey, Cameron. You realize if we played by the rules right now we'd be in gym?

Monday, August 22, 2011

"Hayley. Walker. You are pure purple."

"Pure purple? Expound."

"Synesthesia.* Purest purple on the branch baby. That's just what you arrrre. Look up the symbolism of purple if you'd like."

So I did.

A bit on the color purple:

Purple symbolizes royalty, magic and mystery. It's a mix of hot red and cool blue. It is the only color that black and white communicate through, as it lets in access to both light and dark. Only in purple does light reach down to dark. Purple has been historically used as a sign of mourning, and can sometimes be considered unlucky. Violet, or purple, is at the top of the color spectrum and it vibrates at the highest frequency. Purple is a color or spirituality and wealth.

I was flattered to be called the color purple after my extensive research produced the above results. I even got some purple boots at Decades, and read to my little brother, Harold and the Purple Crayon.

*ALSO, check this out on synesthesia. I'm terribly envious of synesthetics. Isn't that crazy?

He quickly set sail. And the moon sailed along with him.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Well, what's the prize?

School's about to start and I've started to make lists again. I'm full of lists of things to do. I'm a frequent receiver of anxiety attacks and lists always stave them off. I feel like Harry, reciting the seven horcruxes in his head, "...the snake, the sword, the cup...", that sort of thing.


Wendy's frosty and fries.

Dallas and her sexy new jeep.

Nighttime phone calls.

My gradually increasing shoe collection.

New "Free Winona" vintage t-shirts.

Chinese dictator watches with waving hands.

The pile of books by my bed.

Sundays waiting for me to hike in them.

I've gotta go, get focused and shit.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

"And the world's got me dizzy again/ You'd think after 22 years I'd be used to the spin."

...I'm spinning like a mother effing top.

(Listen to Bright Eyes- Landlocked Blues. Pure poetry.)

Sunday, August 14, 2011

We're off to see the wizard...

I'm going to start spelling like an Englander, "colour" instead of "color" and that sort of thing. Then maybe I'll start talking like one too. While I'm at it I might chop my hair and get a tattoo and change my name.

List of names I would like to change mine to if I at some point needed a disguise (or became famous):



Sometimes I think about waking up and being a different person. And this whole life is just some extremely elaborate dream. I'm tricked into memories but really this whole story has only been happening for a little while inside someone elses head which is really my head, but I'm not me I'm the person who's dreaming all of this.

I categorize things into surreal and extra real. Tonight was extra real in the cemetery with all the lightning and holding hands and the wind. The wind liked playing with my hair tonight, maybe I won't cut it after all.

No, we were. We are.

The lazy sixth month
to the burning eighth.

I'm a wreck
a shipwreck
a home wreck
a car wreck in the front yard
with sleepy spectators
in scant clothing
no socks
drawn in by the smell of metal
and the light
like moths.

Life ending
and summer ending
when I looked at his lips.

Why wasn't I crying?
His everywhere hands
putting my body on fire,
my body's on fire!
He's safe and
he's home.

The house is catching fire, too.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

(I apologize for the lack of a beginning)

and say "I'm back, I'm back" and
with clumsy eagerness trip and sail
across the kitchen floor like little ships and land
similarly so

and they are back.

and smiling.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Running and running.

There's a kind of music that I think must have been made somewhere somehow, before all this. Maybe before any of us were born. And it's dancing around in some mystical, magical place. Or just the pieces of it are, moving around all jumbled. And certain artists are able to somehow pull it from that place and lay it out and piece it together and it feels so right. It feels so right that it must be from somewhere or something bigger and better and wider and deeper. It must be from somewhere. Do you know that kind of music? It's too good to be made by mere human beings. It makes us feel like more than mere human beings. It makes us feel important. It wraps its crooked fingers around our hearts and stops our breath and makes us feel. I like that kind of music. I like that kind of music a lot.

There's hope for me yet.

We were promised jet packs.

As the dentist leaned me back in the chair today and fixed that awful swiveling light somewhere right in my eyes I thought to myself,

Isn't it strange, society. Isn't strange how we've made dentists offices and the postal service and highways. Humans have made a gosh awful mess of things, yet we have done quite the job with organization.

I find it oddly comforting. What comfort is there in a dentist office? I like the order. I like the normalcy. I like that we've all been to the dentists office. I like the average- middle class- American- citizen feel to it.

The government could be taken over by crazy, power hungry aliens from outer space; I think we would still believe them. We want to believe them because it gives us order. A fragile order perched lightly on top of the endless possibility of utter chaos, but an order all the same.

And I say, "recess".