And a series of photos of me getting really fucked up

listening to: some bullshit rap from a party in the kitchen

wathing: Skins, and Broken Embraces

SEX and, who the fuck is she?

You must not have heard about how important I am now
Since we last spoke I got very good looking
I don't know how, but I, and my many new male compatriots would agree, that I look great
Also, I have come into a social scene that worships me
they hang on my last word, and would kill for some insight into my mysteriously desireable and sexy misterîe.
All the invitations I cannot count, to  make an appearance here, dance there
If I'm there its a party, and I know all the right dance moves
My social life is pregnant with opportunity and glamour, it seems I can hardly even keep up.
awh, I can hardly keep up.
Those shorts I wear, with the little deers, the sun doesn't even coax me outside.  I've got stuff to do but the effort seems just too much.  too much angst in going out there.  I haven't showered in days, and I have sweat of other people from the concert all over me.  I put on perfume to go to class.  You know, the one you once swooned over.  The perfume smells awful on me now, and it's not because of my bathing, but because I've changed.  Books and school are well and good, but lets not pretend I give a fuck right now. You never liked school either.
I'm trying hard to find a drug that I'm good at, but I can't, I dont like any of them, none of them stick or make it feel differently.  I can't be straight edge either, because thats what you are.
In my mind sometimes I glamourize my apathy
Maybe this drawing will be the key tattoo, maybe the more soul searching I do, the better mental masturbation will arise.  Something I never told you before you know, is FUCK YOU for ruining sex for me.  fuck you for giving me the best sex i'll probably ever have, and then running away with it. 
Sure, she looks like Mary Kate, and probably has more energy than I could imagine, but I have your books, && a pair of your old socks that you may need again.
And I'm also not very romantic anymore, it's mostly your fault  because your jaw line makes my body quiver, and the words that fall are covering up my desire you jump you like your mine again.
Who the fuck do you think you are leaving this important and glamorous mess, her music sucks, and you'll never have as good inside jokes as we did.
Also, I doubt she'll be able to deal with your road rage or insomnia the way I could. can.
 I don't like drugs but I do like you.You gave my world structure, purpose, and great sex and  I am not unmad about what you've done to me.

Saw Tom Gabel last night,

and you didn't so go fuck yourself

TGIF

Black Hole Masses

So now I've wasted this time,

bought by beneficiaries 

unknown sugar daddies, 

and the galactic thugs

all in order to educate myself 

to defeat them someday

to protest their build, and reproduction

using their money to arm myself against them

And no, its not really wasted,

not as wasted as the prospect of romance 

in this over exposed world 

You once said Punk is Dead,

well I'm here to tell you that Love is Dead.

yes, dead on on a road paved with leather and steel stud forms

lighted by burning british flags, scent of stale cigarettes

This isn't fun anymore,

dancing with no partner

"In Chapter 24, we saw the standard model of active galactic nuclei accepted by most astronomers -- accretion of gas onto a supermassive black hole.  We also say that a large fraction of all "bright"galaxies exhibit activity of some sort, even though in many cases it represents only a small fraction of the galaxies total energy output.  This suggests the potential of far greater activitiy under the right circumstances.  Our own galaxy is a case in point.  The 3-4 million-solar-mass black hole at the center of the Milky Wat is not currently active, but if fresh fuel were supplied (say, by a star or molecular cloud coming too close to the hole's intense gravitational field), it might well become a (relatively weak) galactic nucleus."

 

Listening to recently (since it's been awhile):

Randy Rogers Band

Country Strong Soundtrack (that's right)

Oh Land

Typhoon

The Smiths

disarm or die

We walk the streets at night
We go where eagles dare
They pick up every movement
They pick up every loser
With jaded eyes and features
You think they really care

I ain't no goddamn son of a bitch
You better think about it baby
I ain't no goddamn son of a bitch
You better think about it baby, babe

An omelet of disease awaits your noontime meal
Her mouth of germicide seducing all your glands

I ain't no goddamn son of a bitch
You better think about it baby
I ain't no goddamn son of a bitch
You better think about it baby, babe

Let's test your threshold of pain

Let's see how long you last
That's happened in your rape
On bosoms of your past

With jaded eyes and features
You think they really care
Let's go where eagles dare
We'll go where eagles dare

"Where eagles Dare" - The Misfits

We still love Tom Petty Songs and driving old men crazy

cyberlives

i don't know about all of this
all of this internet contact dependence
i would contend to say that i get more contact socially with my computer than with real people,
and that scares the shit out of me
fb,twit,blog,email,itunes,ichat,skype
this is scary
and im walking into it with crossed fingers that its all just a harmless phase
but it can't be
no this is growing too rapidly
this need to share my every ironic thought with the world
whereas I was weird only in my head, not I am proudly weird all over.
that used to be just for me... now its for you too
what happened to mystery, and patience?

Remember when you'd have to wait for the cute boy from 5th period to call you, hoping it wouldn't be intercepted by your parents first?  Because they'd have a thousand questions about this boy, and you just think he's nice.

Mystery might still exist, but people are too impatient to wait for it
Sexy is not as sexy, because your profile picture is a good looking as you get.
This isn't going away,
Facebook is the new scrapbook
and if not that, then this dumb blog
and your dumb blog
It's creeping in real life
the integrity of the pen and paper, and a handwritten letter (you can smell her faint perfume on the paper and it drives you wild)
thats just a novelty.
Postcards are for the birds

I conduct my whole life around this trendy white little box.
It's so far from anything natural looking, it is an alien that we've become friends with
I still don't understand it, but it is significant to me
and I would probably cry if it died?
does that make it a friend

Is a friend someone you cry for when they die?

I don't like this.  I need aire.
but after I get some aire, i'll come back and check to see if anyone missed me?
I dont like this, but it's not going anywhere.
If I delete all of these digital vices, im not above anyone else, just afraid of what they're doing to me.
Then im out of the loop.

in an internet world, everything becomes hyperbole, or else it is looked past.
what about the soft spoken? those people are usually the most vocal in an internet setting
that's scary, i can't stop thinking how scary that is.

I don't even like that I have a blog
and I changed the title of it from:
"I'm not the type of girl to have a blog"
... because I AM that type, i fucking am and I don't want to be
If its not a blog, its every other colorful, square webpage and its fucking disgusting
I hate how they format it for you, how your artful writing is only doneso within the confines of the assholes at blogsarereal.com, or ibelieveinthepowerofblogs.org, or i hatemybodyandhusbandbut.i<3blogs.com
fuck.
now my title is: As long as there is whiskey in the world
because it is unanimous for where I am in my life right now
this phrase describes a feeling of youth i feel in my physical life, and I've translated it to my virtual life.
i made this blog my ugly fucking twin

I got on this to post about how much I love my weird life right now, but you know what, NO.  Thats for me.  I'm keeping it to myself, maybe ill write it in my real journal.


BECAUSE THIS IS NOT REAL.

†On Taking Lovers†

  

     "As soon as I mentioned her name, his manner changed and a smile crossed his face. He described what an exceptional and beautiful woman she was and how deeply he loved her, “With a burning heart.” He confirmed what she had already told me—they they often fantasized about running away together. I asked, “What would it be like?” A dreamy look came over his face, the he smiled again and said, “The first few months would be wonderful!”

 

LBC SEA PDX

 and

I find myself quite comfortable in the untraditionally comfortable seats of the airports of the world.

The authority of the black leather, and straps of the gun holsters, the nervous, on edge smell of the TSA officers

they're nervous to lose their jobs because they forgot to go to college instead

The mean dogs, the way people made them 

They way everyone tries to compact themselves into one moveable commodity, that travels with ease, although they carry everything they need on a daily basis. 

Or, at least they hope they brought their meds & cell charger

If travellers could grow six hands while they fumble to undress through security

they would

Its so unromantic, they ways the machine looks through all of your things, your worldy carved wooden objects don't even show up on their screens.

They are so significant , or they were until they were X-rayed by the apathetic suspectors.

Elderly stand no chance in this fast paced, contained and upright environment.

they get stepped on like dropped wrappers, and maybe wheeled around like luggage by an overweight texter.

At what point in your life did you lose agility, and the ability to keep up with the world.  If you can't text and walk you are inefficient and cut in line.

I think everyone feels quite important when they were travelling

like, even if they got a great deal through an airline for their ticket,

that someone, somewhere, thought it was worth a couple hundred dollars for their presence.

My presence this holiday held the monetary value of $536 USD.

and that makes me feel great.

I miss the days when it was standard to dress up when granted the privelage to travel on an airplane.

Long coat, gloves and a cigarette holder.  A cocktail on the plane, followed by a reapplication of lipstick

Today its all about how casual you can get away with, while seeming effortless yet important.

the: "I do this all the time" aire

yeah fuck you 




@i®p0®†$


listening to: shuffle. might be the best shuffle ever

feeling this distortion

looking for:
meaningless lips to kiss

"I like to mean what I say"

listening to:
this, duh

the hard way

Just trying to make enough friends to have a good turn out to my funeral! 

"life is short
despite of your plans
so tell the girls they're pretty while you can"
listening to: lucero

no traffic, no trees

 I don't know what exactly, but this picture captured something interesting happening.  There are so many ways to read into it.

Last night made my dreams come through
My little girl big girl dreams were made real
When I became exactly who I 've always wanted to be.  last night
I've made friends who make my life so rich and colorful.  Friends of all ages, who treat me as an equal, I am one of them. A grown up perhaps...nahh

I've reunited with my best friend, I feel a piece of my being back in its place
It feels natural and right and I can't stand to listen to what other people think
Things are so clear, in some ways right now
What's clear is how I feel. and that's hard to find sometimes.

Its easy to say this is the best time of my life.

this is the best time of my life.

 

he's back in my life and it feels right

wow, I guess this is the part in life where I learn to forgive

which, sounds fine and easy

but it wasn't until just now that I realized I've never had to do it before

never really

Maybe I wasn't before, but I am ready to forgive now

I am in my happy place

listening to: utter silence &and my stomach gurgling its hungry

before astronomy 11/8/10

and today I breathe a calming exhale

taming the nerves that had peaked to tell me that after one year that I indeed, unlovable

And I know I shouldn't let that story ruin it for me.

But when the dress slipped over my head, 

my whole body filled the room and my angst about how you left me, left me

And if time really is so fucked up that it would let me feel those very same feelings of today last year,

then condemn me now for whatever I have coming

For letting boys fall for me, knowing what I've done

The high of the kill make me forget your face and name, details like where you're from, what brings you here, what makes you excited

I dont like you, nor love you, but you make me feel like a queen.

And in this moment I'd like to thank the whiskey that gave me the words that gave me, you

A sacrificed drink and ritual

to the God who forgot to love me

Today the sigh of relief I breathe is the numb feeling of getting away with dirty crime

or at least what I'd imagine in a dank murderer's house.

I want the room to be dark enough to dance like no one is watching

and drink enough to sing like no one is listening

Sister judgment, please lets keep this sibling rivalry 

lets ignore eachother four more years

I don't know your children, my new niece.

But this thing I've got going, sister, in the light does not look right,

not yet

listening to: Chuck Ragan

oh to take a look at how things have changed

If you could see what I see right now
from a comfortable seat in a new house that I've never lived before
I look out my new window, at these old leaves, who've recently transformed into a new color of beautiful
They've turned with the season, as have I
They've watched me run home healthily, trip home drunk these leaves
Thank you for your light
I've made it comfortable for myself, you see, or else it wouldn't be so
I've worked to make this my home, my place, and to live with fleeting cares only.

My life is regenerated all my cells have died and regrown into better cells
and the cells of life that I used to hate and be so ashamed of
I love those too
Nostalgia is such a familiar feeling on such a captivating and stunning fall day
I do miss love though, it's not all tough and wild,
it's a vulnerable moment here and there
she misses hugs that are meant for you, and kisses you can depend on
walking through a fall day, there is still a part of this new self that would love a hand to hold my hand without any sort of doubts.
Fall makes a lover just a little bit more in love with the idea
of looking someone in the eyes fearlessly, without guilt or the influence of the outside
its not uncomfortable, or forced

Think back to more careless time
when having a sleepover was the height of your weekend
and phone calls were treats
I dont know if I miss innocence
looking back it sure was a good time

my heart desires simplicity, wherever he is.

listening to:

Thrice

Two Gallants

Tim Kasher & The Good Life

Murder By Death

The way to my heart?

coffee and a mix tape.

What feels good right now is s l o w music

im thinking about kissing

old fun kisses

new weird kisses

kisses do not expire

don't call me a vamp for loving kisses

I also love

playing superman after dinnertime

indian leg wrestling

the game ha, when you and your best friends make hexagons on the carpet,

share bellys to rest your head and laugh away the years

snuggling is divine. absolutely divine.
The way to my heart?
Someone unafraid to snuggle. hard.

It must be boyfriend season because i feel my little hand a little bit cold and longing for a larger hand to warm it.

With the rain comes the internal yearning for someone to warm your cold feet on

someone to wear fuzzy socks, drink tea with both hands, speak in whispers

whats better than rolling around in leggings and flannel with someone who thinks you're cute? not much, if anything

winter is for lovers

just made a playlist for myself, just for me.  I'll call it "masturbate", so no one is tempted to go peek at it because it is just for me.

listening to: Tim Kasher

I watched you struggle

It was an impossible departure
one you could hardly stand
I watched you fight wars of past years
wars unfinished by your grandfather
all that just to turn your head
and try not to kiss me goodnight

I watched you pry your bloody body off of the pavement of a rioted street
in an impossible feat to win against any authority
you turned your head breaking all of your vertebrae
snapping your neck in the opposite direction of my lips
pulling the magnestism of the moon,
thinning the crust, and making it an oblong elipse
rather than a perfect circle
I disrupted your orbit as you tried not to kiss me

The whole walk home was a hundred mile an hour windstorm, but only on your side of the sidewalk.
You swayed and uprooted and flooded and fell
 and in the epicenter of that natural disaster,
you held an upbrella for me, so that a drop would not touch my skin.
my skin.
my skin.
my skin.
You didn't kiss it, and that hurt you.

The pain in your eyes were that of a famished family.
whose water was polluted by the industry
an industry out to destroy you
a burning, yellow and blue pain
a blinding visibility straight into the most honest feeling ever felt by man.
each one of my wispy blonde hairs was a stab right into you
wherever it hurts most

... to be continued

listening to: the good life

i'll find you

"An omelet of disease awaits your noontime meal
Her mouth of germicide seducing all your glands"

listening to: The Diamond Light (new obsession)

A-NA-NA im still me

 

and as i sit by the fire,

 I wish I were doing more rowdy things

listening to: Dance yrself clean by LCD soundsystem

$

I am scared beyond all hell of banks and robbers and theives
and those who live beyond their means
like me
I guess I didnt realize where exactly my means were, until now that it's too late
and I'm deep in the once a month payment
Three times a month
for the rest of my life
They say not to get married until you have traveled the world,
because then you are just tied down, and money gets in the way
and then you never travel.  I am married to my debt.
I am fucked sideways with money that I will someday probably never pay off.
And if I do get extra money, I will not spend it on my husband but on getting straight
It will never be straight

but everyone does it

 so is it okay?

bw

Dancing in the River Bed

When I was kindergarten's age I went to Catholic school

I wasn't old enough to wear uniforms

but had I stayed I would have worn a uniform

I was the leader, I was the little mermaid and the pink power ranger both

I was not a Catholic

or maybe I was

One time the teachers took an apple that my friend had bitten to the principle's office

It was a carved face, an accomplishment

I was jealous that it wasn't my apple

In all of beauty's flaws, keeping what's important in your clear line of vision

is pursuing a beau at a party

with 100 other beaus

remember what's important, but moreso who

you aren't real

and I'm only here until I can move onto the next place

next grade, next life, next job, next house, next party

NEXT

NEXT FAD

Only when I choose,

I will be a permanent person

and just because I don't talk about you out loud

doesn't mean you're still not part of the conversation

or that you are not there

Your name is forbidden, but

You still exist

You still exist, you still exist

Old friend, you ruined me 

for a short time on the playground you were my bully

you taunted my pink bunny

when he was my only friend

you kicked him in the snow

the dirty part

 and then you ran off, faster than I could ever run

When you befriended her was the worst

you knew she was the worst

and when you started making grass houses for fairies

that was our game

with her

My whole village was pillaged

as easy as a T- Ball game's snack time

You forgot about me

or maybe you'll never forget 

about the time we spent in code languages

in the furthest corner of the playground haven

in the hallways making promises

in different classrooms, awaiting reunion

at lunch time, eating weird food that our parents embarassed us with

but we loved.

I have not forgotten about our best friend bracelets

I still have mine

listening to: morning noises outside my window,

a calm aftermath to a massacre of a night