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22 April 2004 06:50pm |
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i did absolutely nothing productive for weeks. but i'm looking forward to the weekend.
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31 March 2004 03:58pm |
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music |
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receipts folded |
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the weather turned real quick and now i have a cold from leaving my window open. the air is so hot and thick and i'm still wearing winter clothes, sniffling, and sweating while feeling cold.
this weekend i get the fun job of moving all this junk out of storage and trying to find a place for every single item in this house, garage, and possibly my car if i must. i can't believe how much money i used to buy crap for the place chandler and brent and i shared. then they rented out my room to one of their friends when i left for two weeks to take care of my mom when she got really sick. uh! i should have a yard sale, but it would break my heart to have obnoxious strangers haggle over my tea chest and demand it for a dollar or throw a fit if i don't give them something for $2.25 that i bought for $40 less than a year ago. oh no. i think i just crowd my closet with my junk for a while longer until i move out again.
i have two punch cards in my back pocket of my pants. i need to take them out before i throw them into the wash and come out with little white confetti all over my load of dark clothes. i'm going to forget. i'm tired and i have to work late tonight. i want to visit the ocean and sleep.
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22 December 2003 12:49pm |
 i'm sick. this terrible flu won't leave me. i twist and turn in bed and think about stupid things that leaves my heart heavy and sad. i don't know what went wrong with me and my relationships with people. maybe i'm just paranoid and thinking too much for my own good....K. we just don't talk anymore and i think about it more and more lately. the reason is not the real reason, & i think i'm going to write to him and try to work things out. even for a little bit. then there is this lovely miss. maybe we were trying too hard to connect in a place we can't. i just adore her and its ok if she doesn't feel the same. i want to know for sure where it stands because it drives me crazy, not knowing.
i finally opened my card from ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) beautyinsex. i tore it opened and all the confetti glitter stuff exploded all over. it was great. steph's words always puts me in the best mood...well, i hope that everyone has a good christmas since i won't be updating until after. xxo
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03 December 2003 05:10pm |
Holly and her sister, Linda, came over and I made my predictable vegetable soup. I put red onions that came out clear when it was time to eat. The blinds were closed and it felt like night with the darkness and the cold weather. My dog gave me this sad look because I was late for work and forgot to feed her. All the food and treats I tried to give her now won't work. She refuses to eat until its time for her meals, which is strange.
Linda made cordials that we all had despite....well, i just didn't feel like it. I'm addicted to that puke green naked juice drink. It shimmers when you reach the bottom of the glass. It reminds me of scales a mermaid from this one book I read when I was younger. Leave me a alone, nostalgia. I share love/hate relationships with too many things/people.
My hair is in this inbetween state. Ugly short hair growing out phase. It flips to one side so the left side (my left) gently cups my chin; a place where your hands should be. Maybe your hands should be on my lower back and maybe I should let you place them there.
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10 November 2003 04:08pm |
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music |
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miss _lvantgarde's music is nice to have in the background |
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grey november skies are nice. low hung wires make me nostalgic for something fierce i'm not quite sure of. clouds get so dark, it looks like its going to storm loud and hard. weather, please put a theatrical production for us. dwight gave me yesterday and we spent it, like a dime, together. dreary day made bright.
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| skittles |
29 October 2003 06:15pm |
the sky cleared up this afternoon and it was just so strange to see blue and stretched-thin clouds again. ah, sky canvas. i cannot wait to lay on my daybed by the window and pretend to write lost words on you again with my pen. holly and i went to this small farmers market and bought 4 medium pumpkins, two mini ones, this green&red pepper plant, and a chunk of chocolate spontaneously. there were darling little hanging plants that i wanted to purchase for my porch, but holly pulled me away and i didn't place the pumpkin properly in the trunk so they rolled all around on the drive home.
my hair is finally long enough where i can twist it up & pin it, at the same time not look silly. i love wearing long coats and having my hair up. tonight is a special night. we haven't really talked for almost two weeks long now. i'm going to shower and put my hair up and making stupid faces in the mirror before. its an occasion.
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15 October 2003 02:31pm |
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mood |
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paint |
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music |
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elliot smith |
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I don't quite feel the same. I found a mix my ex made for me a couple years so I listened to it to see what was on it. 2000, all over again, which is strange since I don't usually recall memories based on the years, but on how old I was & the order I meet people. When I was five, ten, sixteen, twenty...Justin, Holly, Ann, James, Hayley, Chris, Laurie...don't think, just...breathe.
I like the school Jennifer attends because of all the trees with nice big leaves. Very crunchy when the Santa Ana winds come blowing by and they litter the entire church lawn and the sidewalks, get stuck in your windshield wipers and the bottom edges of your car windows when you park by the curb. It feels like a small part of fall in the non-distinguishable seasons of Southern California.
I met James at Knolwood's yesterday. He got a black eye, bruising up pretty badly. I didn't ask questions, but tried to think of funny things to say. I'm dumb. I'm not a kissy-ass person so I can't stand it when I'm put in situations where everyone acts really friendly, trying to convince people of something they're not. Lately, I feel like a runny painting. Dripping away, all smudged.
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06 October 2003 06:15pm |
my contacts are trying to slip off my eyeballs, longing to be just concave pools: little tiny bowls you can dip your fingertip into.
"the little light fades the immense & diaphanous shadows, the air tastes good to my palate"
i miss some people very much. i wish my memory didn't work in reverse.
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16 September 2003 06:08pm |
last night was great.
it felt like i was in a blurry picture of night lights. they become dancing wires, jittery and indefinite.
i bought laurie those long, slender flowers vases and steak knives for her new flat. i was looking and looking for blood-red flutes, the kind i bought holly for her birthday, but i couldn't find them. i don't even think she likes steak, but they are really nice knives.
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21 August 2003 09:03pm |
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its been a pretty bad week, but that's ok.
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17 August 2003 09:41pm |
I drew this some time ago and I took a picture of it because my scanner is broken. Then I made it green. La la la.
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07 August 2003 11:48pm |
jen.
070803.
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07 August 2003 11:44pm |
 
its mother didn't come back this evening. we'll see tomorrow.
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07 August 2003 06:25pm |
justin is unhappy and away so there's nothing i can really do about it. phone calls are not the same anymore, and i'm still trying to figure out everything beneath without panicking, losing touch of people i care about and that care about me (so i think).
this baby bird fell out of its nest two nights ago. it look like a cat tried to attack it, but i've taken it in and it sits in this nice newspaper-lined box. its button eyes are glassy and black. i'll load up some pictures next time or something. we're looking out for its mother.
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15 July 2003 08:39am |
jen.
13.07.03
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02 July 2003 11:33am |
I got this idea from loverain.
I don't know a lot of names of the people on my friend's list.
You could just post your first, last name is not necessary.
Hi, I'm Solona Brandilynn N.
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14 June 2003 07:56pm |
scratches
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13 June 2003 11:34pm |
My cousin is a bean pole.
I can't sleep and I can't stay awake. It's not normal to be sick 60% of the year when you don't have anything to be sick about. There's guiltiness for making you toss and turn for other reasons. I still draw snowmen 8's and slash my o's. I haven't forgotten about you coming down next month, possibly, maybe, not anymore because you couldn't find anyone to come with you? And this was going to be one of those things going around with numbers and people would have to guess which one was their's, but someone always gets left out.
And great people are leaving this lj place. I miss Noel the most.
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21 May 2003 08:01pm |
summer-like days filled with work keeps me busy and unhappy.
i am his dulcinea.
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08 May 2003 10:53pm |
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lately, everything has been about working and spending all my money on dress pants (i keep snagging my good pants on everything) and on spinach & artichoke dip + chips. i miss jenna terribly lately. i want to punch my hand through a window or something to take my mind off all this stress, frustration, and misunderstanding. i'm reading "till we have faces", after finding it on one of our shelves downstairs in the living room. my left shoulder has been aching again after i slept on it wrong yesterday. i feel like i'm hanging off of a coat hanger, swaying every so often when the floor fan blows my way.
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10 April 2003 04:25pm |
every two weeks on thursday nights my neighbor takes all the leftovers and comes over to take all the crap from our fridge to put all together in this huge pot.
he calls it cowboy stew.
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09 March 2003 09:35pm |
I make lists all day long as my running veins down to fingertips, gripping tightly and pressing harder, making Solona braille you can read on the other side of the sheet.
Glass green is greener, lighter, and stronger than reed green and yellower and paler than sky green. Most of all it reminds me of leeks that my Nana used to make and how the curved wall following the staircase always looked so old in photographs we took during the holidays. Everyone standing shoulder to shoulder to back to front and I always thought group staircase pictures were so ugly.
Last thing I want to do this week: Drive from LA to 909 Riverside hell.
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16 February 2003 09:27am |
a tragic epiphany last night.
it's about time.
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27 January 2003 09:26pm |
pale fire.
i remember when words would flow out so easily
and dance on the tip of my tongue. instead, tonight
we talked about children and names and pianos.
i don't miss those words anymore.
ps. i wrote peculiar emails to some of you.
don't be alarmed :)
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25 January 2003 07:19pm |
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our frolicsome Pimpernel and Nicolette found in the same attic a reel box containing what turned out to be (according to Kim, the kitchen boy, as will be understood later) a tremendous stretch of microfilm taken by the globetrotter with man of its quaint bazaars, panted cherubs and pissing urchins reappearing three times at different points, in different shades of heliocolor
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22 January 2003 05:22pm |
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music |
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plucked strings |
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I've been walking around with a huge black smudge on the side of my face for God knows how long. Thanks for telling me, guys.
Reading tonight. There's a pretty good lineup. I'm ready to be inspired and/or eat a bag of jelly beans with Scott. Which reminds me that I forgot our session of Idiot's guide to Starcraft & other games that makes boys' heart pitter-patter. I think that I'm subconsciously avoiding it already.
The burn mark by my wrist is getting wrinkly & I wish I could tell people that it was a battle wound from something great instead of a wrestle with a hot pot.
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20 January 2003 10:54pm |
Ada has such a slow start. Or maybe I'm not concentrating hard enough. No matter how hard I try, I can't bring myself to skip the first couple of chapters. I just have issues with everything lately.
I haven't completely moved out of the house yet so I'm living out of my suitcases, which is ridiculous. I've lost what used to mean the most to me. Days are separated into two main groups: requirements & him.
I don't hate where I live, but loathe the person I've become while growing up here.
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18 January 2003 02:07pm |
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searching for the right thing |
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music |
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lifeless heart beats |
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We shouldn't have the ability to crush other people's feelings. I want to sit on the floor and cry like a child and be just like the papers being thrown in destruction. They are like a pack of birds and when released, all flutter each and every direction; flee, twist, turn, bend, and lean against other objects. I want to lean. To rest my head against you and feel solid.
Its easy to lay down, horizontal like you're lifeless anyways. I picked up the developed pictures found in the Nikon camera my grandpa gave me. I lied before. It had been touched, but the roll sat in there for only God knows how long. They didn't come out too well. Spots of time filtered through a grainy green sheet. I'm in one of them, looking pretty happy with my white dress with sea green trim. 4 years old, holding teddy bear-shaped grapnels with parts of string [they got cut] still attached.
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11 January 2003 10:04pm |
i almost forgot how it feels when you clutch the cuffs of long-sleeves or sweaters. there hasn't been much time for long posts or the will to create for a long time.
my grandpa came over today and gave me his nikon n2000 camera that has never been used before. he doesn't know why (either).
this just makes me emotional because i need at least one family member who doesn't make me cry for the wrong reasons.
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08 January 2003 10:19pm |
craving: your natural scent.
my friends' list has been so wild lately.
such beautiful people. xo
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05 January 2003 12:47pm |
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music |
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jump, little children-c.o.c. |
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irresistible canvas.
i miss their voices that i used to hear all the way down the hall even though they don't talk loud; just rings high-pitched & could hit notes this alto dreams of. this used to be background music to our talks.
i expect him like a visitor at all hours of the gun-metal blue night. i'm afraid of burying the past.
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04 January 2003 10:46pm |
there's this small cut on the back of my leg [won't stop bleeding] that ruined my new pants. disturbance: i don't know what caused it.
i'm waiting for someone to come pick me up. my car is sitting in the outside where, today, a rusty-looking shopping cart bumped into it because other people felt the need to be careless. there's a small scratch & i'm not going to be ok.
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30 December 2002 07:11pm |
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mood |
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losing my voice |
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music |
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elliott smith |
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I'm still sick (worse than ever: throat burning, wheezing, etc), but I still got up out of bed and ran errands and met people to not disappoint. I'm afraid of setting off my dad's temper after he was in this terrific mood the entire holiday season. I want to end this year right for once.
James promised to invite me to a foam party for tomorrow night. Even if it means making our own in the backyard because we can't go to a decent real one. I need to get better NOW.
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| let's dance around with lottery tickets in our pockets |
29 December 2002 11:20pm |
the soft hum in my ears fades in & out. its challenge to hear what the television drones on about when one ear is pressed against those soft, cool sheets while the other flirts with an ear infection. "hello, there. please don't stay.". at times like this, i wish i could read lips as well as cody.
i found this written on a regular college-ruled piece of paper that was tucked inside my laughter in the dark book (something i never got around finishing):
"I wish I had longer skirts and dresses made out of soft fabrics that swishes from left to right around my legs. At least more than all those pants and jeans folded stacked placed in these dressers. Then I might be able to use this camera again. Or dance with you again."
i hate how i never make any sense. oh, these invisible, untoppled
omphalos
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28 December 2002 10:12pm |
the rain rushed in just now.
its good to come home and find things the way
you left it, or better.
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28 December 2002 03:06pm |
i put in kate rusby & enjoy resting my head on your shoulder.
i always feel so sad when i hear her sing though there should be no reason why.
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26 December 2002 11:19pm |
I have this grand way of pushing anyone who has ever cared/loved/wished the best for me away. For that I'm really sorry & I do kick myself for it.
K twin- I miss you dearly. We have not talked in months + numbness last few times we did.
D-Up and down months. I wish I was home to brush my lips on the petals. I hope they stay alive until i return back to them
Sean(s)- I give bad advice. I'll listen instead.
Haunt my heart while I played in the snow and came home sick. Feel better those who are sick [kristin (safe trip!) & liz]. Off to sleep & enjoy mini-vacation & contemplating chucking laptop out the window to do so.
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22 December 2002 06:24pm |
Wishbone flesh.
The rain visits me every night, but never stays until daybreak. Opened Ground stares at me from an angle and demands that I crack it open when I'm lounging around in bed, waiting for Nyquil and other antibiotics to kick in.
I'm not going to even pick it up because I know I will stutter and trip over the words like I'm back in first grade, sounding out the round&sharp letters because I can't focus on anything but what might have been and what will be.
Sunday driver, you take me to places I've only dreamed of.
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19 December 2002 04:09pm |
I spent a lot of money shopping yesterday. I feel pretty good.
Thank you, anexperiment. I got it today. =)
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| tears & rain were placed in the same bucket |
16 December 2002 10:37pm |
my hair smells like me wearing x's hoodie in the car with the windows rolled down by the ocean. new shampoo i bought this afternoon after standing in aisle odd-somethingorother with wet spots all over nice blouse and skirt from the rain this afternoon. my toes were cold!
oh, i find all of this to be extremely intriguing:
spiralingmoon paintings
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08 December 2002 10:27pm |
Its been a long time since Holly and I sat in her mom's house and consumed all the cookies we did this afternoon. Her brother came over to string a couple Christmas lights around the living room and in the den, along with several other rooms to brighten up the place at night. He planned to decorate the house and some of the bushes out in front, but then it was really awkward when we remembered that no one would be able to take it down afterwards since her dad was so too weak to even go out for a couple of hours.
I got to meet her sister's husband for the first time. I'm glad that they're together even though they seemed so young and unsure of their lives. He works and she goes to school, and they have a nice place to live and bills are being paid on time so I'm happy.
I wish that I could say I did something productive this weekend, but I stayed home most of the time watching a lot of new netflixs that came in and drinking tea to soothe my throat.
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05 December 2002 10:07pm |
pressed paper shreds makes broken hearts look so easy to mend. cornsilk sheets from the forest of your deepest desires were thrown into the overfilling sinks with ink bleeding like your veins from under the ivory porcelain skin. there was no difference. both hurt like the time you kissed pavement with your skin and left part(s) of yourself as a gift you didn't want to give.
it is the same ground he's walking on now as he climbed out of his small compact car (I love him, though I do not know him). here to take the girl, who lives on the second level with the bedroom windows facing toward the sunset. afternoon's gaze strips colors from side to side, those vertical striped blocks. the engine is left running while hands are in pockets, chin is tilted up, legs underneath shoulders, and patience thinning, much like the bleached paint on the screen door that snaps the way her gum does, imprisoned within pink&white cells.
she doesn't appreciate him like i do; the young lady squinting from across the street --inside-peeking through eyelet curtains-behind We're Open--, waiting for my glasses to be fixed.
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05 December 2002 07:09pm |
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY CHEATER.
Sometimes, you can ask for too much.
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02 December 2002 10:53pm |
heart--broken.
those words of yours fleeted away
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30 November 2002 04:53pm |
 I received this over the weekend, even though I don't smoke. Almost for no particular reason. No need for specifics.
Thanksgiving was spent with the unexpected and no animals were consumed. I visited the ocean and spent many hours dreaming about maelstroms, but from the inside of my car. It was raining last night and I almost ran over a small crate while making a quick right turn. I wish my hair was dark like Miss Blacklock, and I want to keep cutting it shorter to be mistaken for a boy at times.
Maybe not. I want to know where you are.
The End.
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20 November 2002 10:56pm |
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the ghosts of my house wants to play tonight, but i'm pressed for time and the dry wind is not my friend.
the leaves sand against each other, making rainy noises while pie tins spirals and clatters outside the door. i was staring into the mirror earlier with warm glow lighting, trying to tend to my weatherbeaten skin when i realize i see you in the the dark half-moons, feathered chapped lips; not quite so much in my eyes, more beneath the layers of this skin.
i want to capitulate ire & finish what needs to be done by tomorrow.
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18 November 2002 10:43pm |
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i read her and wonder if she's god?
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16 November 2002 09:02pm |
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I can't get close enough to feel your collective dips and sporadic combustions at time and your wonderment digs underneath these half shells when I ask for redemption.
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14 November 2002 04:14pm |
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music |
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She is the kind of girl that would park on railroad tracks |
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Came in a little late and he tried to sign up, but crossed out his name with two straight lines. He wasn't ready so he sits in plastic chair and looks cautiously around the room. I leave during the break to avoid making a scene. He doesn't look at me, but stares off to the left and it was right when my silly smile flashed right in my face when I realized that he was staring at the mirror to meet my eyes through the reflective glass.
Don't look at me with those eyes, please.
Legs take turns shooting forward from underneath me. Its pretty late and mother always said that girls shouldn't be out on the streets alone. The sparks of glitter in the concrete never fails to distract and lose me deep in thought until the copper red bricks replace them. He catches up underneath the old building with a circular sign roaring a lion (lion roaring a sign?), and dots forming announcements still dancing across every 2 beats to declare plans outdated about a year now.
Let me see you again.
I sighed deeply, thinking my chest was going to catch it, but it feel thru and hit my shoe.
A boy, who I would believe his lies and let him hurt me, and his hands don't warm my body like your voice does over the phone.
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