|
|
Tuesday, November 20th, 2007
| |
4:47 am - Reality's never as good as you imagine it to be
|
For instance, you might fantasize about murdering your boss, the thrill of pounding his head on the filing cabinet with such impact his nose will leave an imprint on the steel. You can imagine how powerful that would make you feel, like a horse, or a V-8 engine. Imagine your arms, your thin, girlish arms that have only ever been used to support your manual labor-free hands typing on a soft-touch keyboard, capable of such violence. Something inside you released like a leopard, springing out of its cage in the blind light of day. With a snarl! Causing everyone in the vicinity to flee in terror! You will bask in how your coworkers will finally notice you, gaze at you with some sort of respect, or fear, or barely-hidden disdain. Anything, but what you're getting now. Which is, barely meeting your eyes. Almost no acknowledgment. Unless they need something from you, then their voices are laced with sugar, honey, if you were a diabetic you would die.
So, when you look up from your cubicle, from the lines and lines of data you just entered, you notice your boss is walking in your direction. In the short walkway where the filing cabinets are, he is waddling paunch first. You walk quickly towards him, murderous thoughts in your head, a stack of just-in-case folders in your hand. When he is about two feet away, you start seeing the weak fuzz on his head highlighted by the florescent lights. Then you notice the wrinkles on his face, the sheen on his jowls, and the grease stain on his tie. He does not even meet your eye. He is almost close enough to grab, his tie is swinging towards you, look, like it wants you to strangle him. Your arms move imperceptibly forward. Your hand is in front of you, still holding the folders. You reach out, one hand open, he is a foot away, then six inches, then three, then he is gone. He hasn't done anything special, he just passed you. As people tend to do when they walk in the opposite direction...Two people start walking towards each other at time X, where person A starts walking at X m/ hr and person B starts walking at Y m/ hr...
You swivel towards the Mur-Not filing cabinet like you were headed there in the first place. You haven't even dropped the folders. You open the drawer, start filing the folders, which are a little creased where you grasped them hard. That's all the proof you have of your fantasy. All the evidence available. That's all there is. No one will dare convict you on crease basis alone.
Of course nothing happens. Of course he's still alive, and you still work at your shit job. What did you expect?
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Wednesday, December 27th, 2006
| |
2:21 pm
|
|
| Tuesday, October 24th, 2006
| |
10:56 pm - saves first herself and then the world
|
a curious melange of the feminine and the masculine. dresses first in loose pants like a boy and tops it off with a pink blouse with a ribbon, or lace. walks with feet aimed straight always, sometimes with a happy bounce, moving the pony tail like a pendulum. and sometimes trudges along as if the whole world was stuffed in the backpack. eyes are deep, from lack of sleep, or from some unknown thought that strangles. once in a while the head would slowly rise from its intense gaze of the pavement, and then would bow again as if telling the world to keep its opinions to itself. other times the head is upright and straightforward, gaze a heliotrope following the orbit of every soul in the street. short and small. doesnt seem to realize how small. fingernails clean and usually cut to workable length. does not bite nails. hair wavy and dark, not too thick, not too long, usually clean and tied back. waist small, hips not child bearing. shoulders and calves round, breasts unremarkable. voice pleasant and clear with an accent that is difficult to pinpoint. face sometimes open though more often aloof. but overall safe-looking. overall unthreatening.
current music: you were the last high - the dandy warhols
|
|
(1 comment | comment on this)
|
| Sunday, October 22nd, 2006
| |
6:59 pm - things that remind me of christmas
|
|
| Thursday, October 19th, 2006
| |
8:06 pm - peace
|
they have been constructing this building on liberty street since this summer and theyve almost completed it. it's already my favorite building on the block because on its right side there is this giant round window in the shape of a peace sign. the sills are metal. it's glorious--oh the possibilities! i have this cool idea that it should be a sort of relaxing spa with a blue theme. they will have these one person tile bath tubs filled to the brim of different size blue beads that burst! when they come in contact with your sweat or your specific body heat or something. they look like the burst beads you find in your facial wash or even chewing gum. and they would be different shades and grades of blue and some white and gray: aquamarine, cerulean, sky, navy blue, ash gray, jean grey (haha), light blue fading into almost nothing, and the darkest blue of insistence. and when you lie on it, the feeling is described by one word: "aaaahhhh". it would be like stepping onto a nice warm perfume bath but squishier, gigglier. and you can sleep on it, we'll have special pillows that won't dissolve and you can just melt into the blue beads and be one with the blue beads and then you can become like that window on the right, you can become peace.
also around the building there are these grasses and rushes in bloom in the fall chill. they are so pretty swaying in the breeze and when i touched it, i thought it would be deceptive and actually be spiky but it wasn't at all. it was really soft like a cat's tail. they are pretty too, sort of silvery and yellow on top and dark green in the middle. i want those on the floor like carpet so that when you walk on it it's alive but soft, a living thing. so i guess ppl with allergies can't come into the relaxing spa, so sorry.
|
|
(4 comments | comment on this)
|
| Tuesday, October 10th, 2006
| |
2:19 am - tabemasen: time for a new aesthetic
|
if it's falling over, give it a kick
i thought i'd go home and get ready for bed at eight. i envisioned myself lying eagle spread on the futon, in the dark. it seemed exactly what i needed, like a cold beer on a hot day. but after i did my ablutions and changed into my sleeping clothes (how odd that we wear clothes just to sleep, in the same way we put on clothes when we head out to meet the world) i couldn't. instead i lay on the carpet and did sit-ups, until my abs felt like spring, until i felt myself weakening. then i faced the venitian blinds and reached for my toes over and over until my legs started shaking and my heart beat furiously. i wasn't sure if my eyes were closed, everything looks exactly the same when the lights are out.
i broke a plastic pen in half.
with my bare hands.
it was extremely satisfying.
no one can stop me from talking, i will never stop saying what i want. no one can stop me from writing, unless i make me.
current music: Simplesmente (Tom Middleton Balearic Mix) - Bebel Gilberto
|
|
(5 comments | comment on this)
|
| Monday, October 9th, 2006
| |
11:40 pm
|
|
| |
11:22 pm - kitelife laughing
|
on sunday it was blue and light and i flew a kite. franz heard i never did before so he found the one stored in the garage back from when he was five. we brought it out on the driveway and taped all the ripped parts together. it was so grimy and old. it was a plastic one that had a picture of a blue and red airplane and had a frame made of bamboo. he told me, u gotta wear sneakers because you have to run. so i did. we went to the park and i ran pulling it behind me and the kite went bouncing up and down, up and down but it wouldnt fly. there was no breeze. i wanted to stop but he said run, run faster. i ran and a strange wind blew and the kite took flight, it went up and up and up.
it was so nice, it felt like i was the one flying, it felt like i was soaring and i was looking down at all the orange and yellow and golden leaves and waving to them, leaving them behind. franz lit a cigarette and passed another one to me and then when the kite was high enough i took the tip of my cigarette and touched it to the kite string, and then it flew away, untied and free and laughing.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| |
11:01 pm - monsieur unloveable
|
|
he opened his palm and there were tiny purple stars on them. where did you get that, i demanded. from your dress, he said meekly. it was true. i looked behind me and there, on the back of my left thigh was a palm-shaped imprint where stars used to be. wtf did you do? i screamed at him. well, at least i didnt step on you. he pointed to the girl named maria, who wore her hair short and shaved, and black lipstick, and who looked gloomily at the big muddy foot print on the black skirt she was wearing. if you want, mics, he said, you could punch me right now. and so i did. i reared my right fist back, back, back and hit him with all my might right in the middle of his lean face. don't you ever think sometimes, of hitting without hurting? thats what i did. i heard the cruch, maybe my bone or his teeth or both. the blood gushed out like something that came unstuck and then he was screaming, and flailing his arms, and somehow his hand touched his nose and my stars got unstuck from his palm and got stuck in the mess and his face was blood and gore and purple stars, and i loved him then. his blood and mine were mixed on my fist and i loved him because i hurt him and i loved him because he let me hurt him.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Thursday, October 5th, 2006
| |
1:53 am - This is a true story
|
My friend Sally, waitress at the Ethiopian restaurant the Blue Nile, told me about a promotional free lunch buffet.
After Japanese class I headed to Jimmy Johns to meet with Franz so we could go together. But—as usually happens when I make dates with people, he didn't show. So at fifteen of the hour I went to Washington and Fifth. There was already a line formed at the entrance, university kids, mods and homely business workers having their afternoon meal.
In ten minutes these fat white people in cheap business suits lined up behind me. The one right after me was the most obnoxious of all. He kept on yelling fat privileged things like, don’t cut in front of the line and look at those people taking their time. When I opened the door he propped it open with his palm and I’m pretty sure deliberately touched my hand. GROSS!
I spied Kevin in line a few people in front of me but he was too far and I couldn't yell out a greeting. Where was Tess? She wasn’t there. It was ten minutes before the hour when I finally reached the entrance. I stood it out because really, all I need is ten minutes to eat a complete meal. It’s one of the skills I learned in college. A tall distinguished looking black man, the maitre d’ I suppose, was letting people in. Kevin was at the buffet table and I was close enough to hail him so I did. This way I got to sit with him at a table instead of by myself at the bar.
Anyway the food was good, three kinds of peas, pink cabbage, yellow cabbage in peas, a chicken dish in yellow sauce (not curry), and a beef dish in red sauce (not pasta sauce). There weren’t any bread or utensils to eat with, but we had no time to wait so we ate. Kevin had lettuce leaves from the salad and we half picked food out with our fingers and half used the leaves as spoons. He’s moved in with Tess, they will soon work at the same office, etc. etc.
After ten minutes, I said goodbye and Kevin said, Oh Yeah, I’m glad I at least helped you go forward in the line a little. Kevin did nothing of the sort. I got to the front of the line all my own. So I said, “No you didn’t. Don’t flatter yourself.” He started laughing.
Before I left I saw John in a white apron. Not John-the-Knight, but John Emma’s John. He refilled my glass. I don't know if he remembers me but I remembered him. I know him. Knowing another person’s name is holding power over them. I know his name, he doesn't know me. I have the upper hand. He spoke and said, I work with Emma that’s how I know her. His breath reeked of tartar and rotting cigarettes. “I said, I didn't hear about this from Emma.” It was true. It was Sally who told me.
You know what I hate? Mothers with those double strollers who block traffic with their hideous progeny. I don’t care if their babies are cute. They're hideous for blocking sidewalk traffic.
God, my feet were wet the whole day. It’s been raining every other day and I’ve been wet every other day and it’s starting to take a toll on my sanity.
|
|
(2 comments | comment on this)
|
| Saturday, September 30th, 2006
| |
9:21 pm - how come i dont cry anumroe?
|
man, i haven't had wone of those ap[arties where i jsut gotfshitfaced druink and smoked until my lungs hurt, just smokging andd rinking and then going into the bathoorm to look atmyred face in the mirror and the glossy eyes, get hoem tipys walking crookedly --maybe high, maybe afraid that i would throw up at some point on my bede during the night
i smoked a cigarette too quickly and almost had the same feeling tonight i dropp[ed the butt by accident and debagted whether i should just leave it to be found by my aunt, and hten have franz get balmed for it
my last name looks like blamethis cigarette smells of alcholol. maybe it has some. hahahahaha.
hi john i love you
how come i dont cry anumroe?
why cant anyone just ask me how im REALLY doing?
|
|
(7 comments | comment on this)
|
| |
8:55 pm - magna nimous
|
i want to be an airplane, empty and steel and big and so, so accommodating. i want to open all my side doors and invite my friends in, let them all in, tell them to come in, jump in, leave all your baggage don't worry, we'll take care of all of it.
come walk the carpeted steel floors, settle in, we'll serve you some warm food and tea, and wine if you like. no, sorry, you cant smoke in here, it's bad for you and besides who needs that artificial lightheadedness when i can take you so high, so far away? forget this world a while, i'll take you up to the clouds, show you the world in a way you've never seen before.
don't be scared of the height, i'm strong, i'll carry you. it might seem like falling, but it's not, you're not, and i won't let you.
current music: lightness - death cab for cutie
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Thursday, September 28th, 2006
| |
2:35 am - goosefeathers
|
i wish we could wear comfort like goosefeathers, wrap our arms tight and warm with tape, to keep us in check, to hold us together. all the old things i used to do to keep me here don't work no more. why when i am surrounded by so much do i feel like im nowhere at all? i know a lot of people would care if i disappeared. i know this. but still
nevermind,
--------------------------------------------------
I'm not trying to cause a fuss
I just wanna make my own fuck-ups
I'm not trying to break your heart
I'm just trying not to fall apart
-pj harvey
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Wednesday, September 27th, 2006
| |
10:23 pm - plum store
|
for some reason today
i had this awful black feeling walking to class
and i felt like going to a cubicle somewhere to throw up
and i couldnt think of what to do
finally i decided to buy fruit
i thought fruit would make me better
and the small convenience store on campus had this very dingy fresh foods counter at the back
and they had plums that were practically prunes they were so wrinkly and refrigerated
and peaches big ones and so tough
and they were so pathetic
but i got them anyway
and it made me feel better
i dunno
we had my aunt's friends come over and cook,
and ricky too, came to cook,
for ricky's birthday. i was really happy for a while, it reminded me of christmas
i wish i had an older brother growing up. i think things would've been better--different.
current music: quicksand - seu jorge
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Monday, September 25th, 2006
| |
1:17 am - Song
|
The weight of the world
is love.
Under the burden
of solitude,
under the burden
of dissatisfaction
the weight,
the weight we carry
is love.
Who can deny?
In dreams
it touches
the body,
in thought
constructs
a miracle,
in imagination
anguishes
till born
in human--
looks out of the heart
burning with purity--
for the burden of life
is love,
but we carry the weight
wearily,
and so must rest
in the arms of love
at last,
must rest in the arms
of love.
No rest
without love,
no sleep
without dreams
of love--
be mad or chill
obsessed with angels
or machines,
the final wish
is love
--cannot be bitter,
cannot deny,
cannot withhold
if denied:
the weight is too heavy
--must give
for no return
as thought
is given
in solitude
in all the excellence
of its excess.
The warm bodies
shine together
in the darkness,
the hand moves
to the center
of the flesh,
the skin trembles
in happiness
and the soul comes
joyful to the eye--
yes, yes,
that's what
I wanted,
I always wanted,
I always wanted,
to return
to the body
where I was born.
Allen Ginsberg
("It will knock you out" - John, October 2006)
|
|
(2 comments | comment on this)
|
| Sunday, September 24th, 2006
| |
10:57 pm
|
by Yoshitomo Nara
|
|
|
| Saturday, September 23rd, 2006
| |
3:52 am - on affirmative action
|
|
| Wednesday, September 20th, 2006
| |
10:50 pm
|
EVERYTHING
WAS
BEAUTIFUL,
AND
NOTHING
HURT
-The Slaughterhouse Five
|
|
|
| |
3:33 am - a conversation on love
|
|
| |
1:58 am - NB:
|
track 11 of massive attack's mezzanine = at the river (radio edit) by groove armada
definitely some similarities there
|
|
(comment on this)
|
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
scarletxbraids's journal