Wednesday, October 26, 2011


Someone once said:
"I wish people wouldn't use the word love so freely."

And I say:
Use the word love freely! Love freely! For heavens sake, love anything and everything you can love. Love is not something to be hoarded, like an old miser and his gold. Love shouldn't be kept safe in the hollow of your chest. The only love you have is the love you make, the love you give. The more people you love, the more love is your own. Love is multiplied not divided. Say I love you before you hang up the phone, and before you fall into sleep, and whenever it comes into your head. Say it out loud and write it down. There's so many people to love! There is so much love that will find you. There is much love to be found. So please, love and love and love. All you need is love.

"I know this's some hippie shit but if everyone loved and accepted themselves we probably wouldn't war." -Sara Silverman

And by all means, love yourself.

Ra Ra Riot

Monday, October 24, 2011

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\an-oh-EE-sis\ , noun;
1. A state of mind consisting of pure sensation or emotion without cognitive content.

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Sunday, October 23, 2011

I seem to have lost my favorite sweater. It's a vintage, turquoise-y blue, by the brand "London Fog". It's versatile and worn and pretty, and went with nearly everything. One morning I wanted to throw it on with some jeans, sneakers and a pony-tail and it was nowhere to be found. The last time I'd seen it, it was hanging quietly amongst my jackets and sweaters and long sleeves.

I often become hysterical upon losing something, which happens alarmingly often. I've been known to lay my book down halfway through a chapter and then promptly forget where I've put it, only to wreak havoc and devestation until it's found again. My heart aches when something is lost because I know it's there I just don't know where there is.

It is devestatingly hopeless to lose something and it is perfectly lovely to find it again, especially after you've quit looking.

Some kind of slick chrome American prince.

Saturday, October 22, 2011

Call me Ms Wild

Days are composed of what they are composed of.

Today is half-sharpened pencils and bitten nails and an all-to-early ACT test with the assistance of a lucky black hair ribbon. It's math questions and science questions. Today is button down blue shirts and bluer eyes and matching Zuriick shoes. And it's laughing in an elevator. Today is introductions. Today is Bob Dylan's greatest hits and garage sale gifts and phone calls. Today is a roller skating rink.

Today is today because of the things that make it so.

Yesterday was Sundance. Yesterday was a pretty picnic and a deer spotting and a dark blue cardigan he lent me to cover my bare arms. Yesterday was flimsy shoes and a Ford explorer. Yesterday was fall- fall in all it's unassuming red, orange, and yellow haze. Yesterday was two teenagers. Yesterday was the return to civilization.

Things aren't constrained by the days and yesterdays that hold them. They're free of time and space and they simply are.

Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally

Thursday, October 13, 2011

My little brother told me a story last night, after I'd exhausted all my own plot lines and he still wasn't ready for sleep. I started scrawling down what he was saying; it went like this:

One day a boy went up to his mom and asked if he could be big. He said, "Mommy when can I grow up bigger cause I'm so little?"

She said, "You can't, you have to stay little."

He cried and cried and runned away and he runned to all the world. And he climbed trees and stuff like that.

He came home and said "Now can I be big? Because I am big."

And then it was nighttime and he runnned somewhere and fell asleep and the next day it was snowing.

And he went home and said, "Mommy can I be little again?"

"No you can't, you can't be little again once you're big."

The end.

God save the queen.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

The same as people who aren't different.

"Round and round we spin, with feet of lead and wings of tin."

My thoughts twist and turn and "round they spin". I don't believe in lines. There's always a coming back and a turning round. What's happened is never behind and what's to be is never ahead. It's around.

We're moving in circles, and the earth is too.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

I've so many things to say, but I can't seem to convince my mouth to voice them.

There's all these words inside me. They're bouncing around the walls of my head and bruising the inside of my mouth. My lips are hot with words, they're humming with them. They seep through my skin and slide down my arms and drip from the tips of my fingers. They puddle at my feet. They moisten my pillow and my carpets and my bed.

I'm careful. I ask questions. I make jokes. I hint. I quote song lyrics and write poems. I take letters and phrases and I twist them and weaken them and spit them out. I wipe them from my word-wet skin.

I'm wordy. I bury meaning inside a mess of consonants and vowels. I awkwardly dance about with verbs and adjectives. I make masks of words inside words inside words. I'm hopeless with conciseness.

All the things I want to say keep filling me up and they spill out in all the wrong order at all the wrong times and, in the end, I haven't really said much at all.

I'm sorry for being so sorry all the time.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Addy Baird

Dal Swenson


Emilee SUDS

Ells-bells Peek

Tanner K

Charlene (the queen) Humphery's

Jack o lynn Covey

Hunter bunter Gibson

Miss B Christensen

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

I know it's just a list of names, but it's a damn good one.

Monday, October 3, 2011

I'm tired. And I'm afraid I've a John F Kennedy speech to analyze by morning:

Kennedy starts all this talk of going to the moon, of discovering the unknown, of progress. So we get all riled up and pay the extra tax money and BAM Neil Armstrong's leaping for mankind and planting our earth-made good ol' American flag in moondust.

On the homefront we're attending public highschool, paying bills, bopping around. We're heatin' up from the Cold War. We write things on our desks that no one listens to when said out loud. We muck around in mediocrity. We may be poor; we're all tired. We read and we sleep. Meanwhile, Neil's dancing his ass off on the moon.

And all we are is green and blue, surrounded by a whole lot of stars. Space, too.

"You put the ache in make believe."