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[Tuesday, January 29th, 2008
@ 03:20am
♥] |
I just watched SLC Punk and feel so literally-lonely that it's actually more of a physical pain than a petty emotion. It'll go away though.
Here are some things I've scribbled on spare paper and stuffed in a notebook,
they're sorta recent, kind of, maybe, at least from '07, I don't remember most of it.
// -- out in a wide-vast dry desert or a crowded-sprinkled dewey jungle, clothing to match. buzzed heads. helmets in the crooks of their elbows. usually there are two, and they kiss, and nothing happens. etc, etc, nothing blows up and nobody stands at attention. does it count as intrusion if it's all fabricated, etc. //
//-- hombre [mujer] que debe su exito a sus propios esfuerzos. //
// -- is 'soft flare of imperfection' a flowery, corny thing to say? yes. i don't like any form of, [scribble], no matter what. flare sounds really dirty. ???//
// no one's really going to hug you and be your friend suddenly. a few weird kids might ask you odd questions like, what were they wearing when they died? or when did you last talk to them, what did you say? and some kids, the biggest majority, will ask you, quite simply [and often] [and without much variation]; hey man did you - pause - do it on purpose? usually they'll say it again but steadier, did you do it on purpose. //
// -- was in the middle of telling me about the house, saying it was shaped like an L, but the other one cuffed his neck and forced his big shoulders between us and said, no it wasn't. a conversation about big-l's and little-l's. he says it was an i. //
// one million empty hearts, sign your name on the dotted line. //
// -- do contact lenses really kill rainforests? //
// YOUR BEARD MAKES YOU LOOK GERMAN
???? //
// hairy legs of tarantulas
and sprouting teenage boys
the white of waves
anywhere in the ocean
!
and of course of eyes
---- good thing i don't write poetry. [scribbles] //
// found shaving cream in a diner bathroom. the creme vs cream debate continues. //
// options:
erasing, enfolding, covering?, removing, disassembling, splicing-open? //
// - the wingled-boy has light blue eyes and skin the color of sand. he has white teeth, they shine and flicker when i help him find the right page in his used textbook. we partner up for the next oral presentation and the boy without a mouth glares at me like he's offended. -- // *
// - a warm june when Pancake is seven will be the first time his classmates try to trick him into eating with them at IHOP. he won't cry, will hardly be bothered, he won't tell her. he's gonna consider it a glitch until he's ninenteen and in therapy. // **
// -- wants me to know he doesn't use THAT WORD but yes he does. why does everyone want to take back what they've already said. it's a good word. not the best, but it's pretty good. it does the job.
note: two days later,
he said it again, twice.
he says it still doesn't count.
"I also sometimes call myself Daddy, and we pretend like that doesn't exist."
which is a valid point. //
// -- wanted to say, wanted to say here's what i'm thinking; i'm thinking of wanting, of wanting to reach over and touch you because you look soft and damp, but if i move the sun will be in my eyeline, which will be painful, oh and also everything else is going to come crumbling down, but that's metaphorical, and possibly not true at all, like maybe you like being touched, i don't know, but i can't really risk it, i can't, i don't i won't, and it's so fucking hot, and so. conversations about mick jagger, etc. //
// found a red bucket in the woods. am reminded of a movie. for sure. but which?
they dared me to touch it.
should i not have touched it? //
* oh this was a good story, aw. I should do something with this.
** this one too. but with red pens.
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