i'm not trendy (photo dump)

the doctors office or urban legend in the making

Samantha had been experience a sore throat for some time now, as well as some difficulty breathing. she decided to go to the doctors office.
she got the appropriate paper work from the older crabby receptionist. she filled out her social security number and whatever else, and waited 45 minutes before she was called in to the steril doctors room. she sat down on the crinkly hygenic wax paper that was covering the cold bed. she was spacing off looking at the reflection of the florecent lights on the linolium floor when Dr. Zehnisky came in. he asked her what the problam was and swabbed her throat. samantha almost gagged as he took it out.
on the end of the swab was a big white slimy maggot.
both Samatha and Dr. Zehnisky were suprised.
the doctor decided to ask samantha some questions, they went somwhat like this:
"do you have a boyfriend samantha?"
"yes."
"are you two sexually active?"
"yes."
"have you recently participated in oral sex?"
"yes."
"hmm i see. the only plausible way i could think of this happening is if your boyfriend was partaking in sexual relations with either animals or corpses, where he might contract some fly eggs. where does your boyfriend work samantha?"
"the morgue."

wire hangers remind me of back door abortions

clearly i overestimated the situation.

at lunch he tried to make small talk. i didnt participate, i hate that shit. i just watched the people walking outside. the teenage boys with scateboards yelling faggot. the buissness men like the one i was with. the women who were getting paid less, and most of all the minorities and homeless. urban decay at its finest.
soon enough he got the message and moved on to the real reason i dragged my ass down to the city.






i really have no clue where to go with this.

we had a very short in-personal conversation on the phone. he said hello, i said hello,he told me what i needed to do for tomorrow, gave me his excuse, and hung up before i could say byebye.
the next mourning i waited at the bus stop at eight. it was cloudy and cool, the soft breezes blew my lace pseudo wedding dress around my legs.
she was still asleep, wrapped up softly in the sheets, her long hair everywhere and her face burried in the pillow. i thought about how i am not a morning person.
i watched the cool breeze blow the burger king wrappers past my feet. the bus came. i watched the town roll by and soon i was in the city.
i walked from the station to the bank. the building was a skyscraper and in side they had a pleasant little fountain. starbucks and suits were everywhere, and here i was in my lacy dress with a thermas full of tea. i took the elevator to his floor, just like he had curtly told me on the phone. in the elevator two bitchy women were looking at me and saying how they'd hire anyone. i got to his floor "accounting" and luckily he was waiting in the reception room so i didnt have to deal with the receptionist.
"lets go to the parking garage."
he took me to the bottom level, the basement of the building. he started to talk to me.
i didnt understand what he was saying.
two teenagers were sitting in their car at the other end of the empty parking lot.
he was much older than i was. in his thirties.
he told me to go down town, which confused me because i thought i was downtown but apparently i was only in the buisness district. there he would meet me for lunch at a fastfood chinese joint. he said more, but i didnt understand.
i was trying to not let the experience change me, i tried to stay the same.
i sat in the food court infront of "KUNG POW" for an hour before he came.
he bought me awful food that smelled like month old sticky candy. i didnt eat it.

ugh fuck it.

the EYES (les yeux)

down with homework!

"An intriguing entomological experiment shows that a male butterfly will ignore a living female butterfly of his own species in favor of a painted cardboard one, if the cardboard one is big. If the cardboard one is bigger than he is, bigger than any female butterfly could ever hope to be. He jumps the piece of cardboard. Over and over again, he jumps the peice of cardboard. Nearby, the real, living female butterfly opens and closes her wings in vain. -from "The Writing Life" by Annie Dillard

i think i am going through my mediocre "photography" phase where i take dumb pictures of my feet. kinda like some girls with horses.

americas best-selling poet

"There is a time to stop reading,
there is a time to stop trying to write,
there is a time to kick the whole bloated
sensation of art out on its whore-ass."
-Charles Bukowski

and then they pulled my skirt up

photo dump!

tell the people

"how old do you think i am?"
"19"
"i'm sixteen"
and he left.

she rode her bike to school in the morning once it was spring again, one pedal after the other. she was always late anyway. on the days she wore skirts she would have to take along a hair tie to pull the skirt up, so it wouldnt get caught in the bike chain. once she forgot and she had to walk around with black oil stains all day. if she wasnt careful her backpack would rub against the back tire and threaten to take her down.
the dismounts were never easy or graceful. her route went by the new hospital that was under construction, and the scafolding always reminded her of him, by the way he talked to her like a piece of work. that and getting hit on by hobos who were too insane to get a job.
remember to push the pedals if you want to keep going.
the spring breeze and the rushing past of the bike felt like fingers in her hair. after school she would try to ride her bike away from everything, but her water bottle would run out somewhere after broadway.
She only felt like herself when she was alone.



he drove his car in the morning eventhough it was spring again, one gear shift after the other. he was always late anyway. on the days his brother took it out the night before, he would have to take along gas money because it would always be almost empty. once he forgot and he had to push his car half a mile to a gas station. if he wasnt careful he would stall in intersections and hills. the parking was never lucky or convenient. his route went by the new hospital that was under construction, and the scafolding always reminded him of her, by the way she was too afraid to look him in the eye. that and how he needed a job.
with the window rolled down and his hand stuck out, the rushing air felt like he was running his fingers through hair.
after school he would leave right away, and try to drive as far as he could, but he would always chicken out somewhere after broadway.
He only felt like himself when he was alone.

BESTEST FRIENDZZZZZZZZZZ

dear [blank]
please, grow up.

i feel we have a mutually parisidic relationship.
p.s.
today i found out i was a total klutz, especially when i was trying to be suave.

i dont understand why people were so shocked by columbine. if anything, i almost sympathise. not that im going to go phsyco and shoot up my school, but it wasnt irrational behavoir.

oh golly miss molly

inspired (as always) by alicia

im not the man you think i am (comrad volfgang)

the beginning of a new age

sometimes i forget to hate myself.

Ellipses

the literary magazine: "a weekly orgy of alterna-teens, loser geeks, art-poetry submissions. we make gagging noises at love poetry."
[...]

cut and paste

she.
ruined photo
waited.
phoned miserably. looked stunned
"no don't cry,"
head stiff
door sighed
pluto knows that it is
unusual of school gone retrograde
the instant yes.
pain, excuse,
up bedroom hall, out,
hairdryer
and... need shocked her.
sorry killjoy 'blew it'
awkward.
feeling dry.
mirror.

thinking really nervous.

Plan B

i will drop out of highschool, never shower, always be on acid, and explore the world.
or:
marry a very very very rich man.

what are you going to be when you grow up?



During 1st period i thought i was going to die today.

Wire hangers and wooden toilet seats

He preferred the peanut m&m's he was popping in his mouth to the regular kind. Wrappers littered the room, I saw every single one when I walked in the door and heard them crinkle under my feet. He made no effort to hide them.
"we're a pair of pretentious fuckers, aren't we?" he said, without a hello.
"basically. Wow, the truth is harsh. I've become all I've ever hated." I joked.
"I know how that feels."
We were mean, bitter, cynical, bitches. We hated everyone and flaunted it. But eventually the thrill wears out. So, our entire purpose of friendship was wearing out. Before we were introduced, we didn't know the other existed. We both listened to the same music, wore the same clothes, liked the same movies, but were never aware of each others presence.

he jumped up off the bed quickly and grabbed his jacket from the chair as he flew out the door, wrappers crinkling behind him. I knew to follow. We got into his late 80's Honda and were driving down to the pizza place. I reached under my seat looking for a pack of cigarettes but all I found was an old bob Dylan tape. I was about to push it into the cassette player when he shrieked
"DON'T DO IT, IT EATS TAPES!"
"sorrysorrysorry!"
I decided to instead turn on the radio. Because his car was two decades old, not only was the seat foam coming out from the tears in the seams, but the antenna had fallen off too. So all we heard was white noise with what sounded like moody college radio underneath. I started to stare out the window.
"come back, daydreamer."
we were suddenly at the pizzeria.
"want a slice?"
"I don't feel like eating."
I walked to the back and slid into one of the booths in the corner. He came back with a greasy piece of pizza that looked exactly like his greasy face. I watched him poor a pound of Parmesan onto it. Then I watched him eat it. unlikemost people, this didn't seem to make him uncomfortable. He just kept shoving it in his face.

We started to have the same conversation we always have. First music.
" I love that song where it starts out really shitty and raw and then changes to those lyrics: ' those heartbreakers need to
leave this city this city leave this city and neva come back 'till there pure again.' "
"yeah, I like that to." the mystery with all rock lyrics is that the lines sound so great in the song, but taken out of them, they usually sound like crap.
then we moved on to:
"I hate people so much. They're ridiculous. I mean, look at that couple over there, does she really think she's gunny get laid jiggling her leg like that?"
"I know! She's so unattractive. And you can totally see that the guy is just with her out of pity."
"or he cant find anyone better."
the sick pleasure we used to get out of this awful commentary had faded, and now we were just doing it out of routine.
"is it ok if we go down to the gas station?"
we left the pizzeria and walked past where he parked his car, and down to the corner. He bought peanut m&m's, and I got a tootsie roll pop. As I went up to the counter to pay the 25 cents I owed, I saw the nirvana junkie behind the cash register open his mouth.
"if you ask me how many licks I'm going to your manager and getting your ass fired for smelling like pot."
he looked slightly shocked. Back up the street to the car. Once we got in, he instantly opened the m&m's. I had stopped long ago expecting him to offer me some.
"I HATE this town. There's nothing to do. Its so goddamn boring."
another thing we had covered many times.
"well we could just drive around until we see something, or we could go to another town."
"I don't have enough money for gas to do that." he had already finished, and was crumpling up the wrapper.

I threw my head back onto the seat " I'M SO GODDAMN BORED I HATE THIS TOWN LET'S DO SOMTHING".
"fine lets just sneak into a movie." he started the car. And he drove fast. I felt in between the cushion and back of the seat and grabbed the neon green lighter that was wedged there. I groped under my seat until I grabbed the pack. Ah, sweet nicotine. At one of the stoplights we watched a pudgy fat girl with bad posture and red frizzy hair cross with her head down.
"poor soul", I breathed on the exhale of my inhale. He looked at me and brushed my hair back behind my ear, I didn't move again until we got to the movie theater.
"be cool" he said. I snorted.
a crowd was just exiting and we rushed in past the ushers who gave us looks. We went into the first theater we saw and sat in the back. The movie hadn't started yet. The preview movie announcer was telling us about how Johnny was about to go on the greatest adventure of his life, and the told us to call the 1-800 number at the bottom of the screen if we wore to much makeup. A little after the movie started overdramatically I fell asleep. When I woke up he was kissing my neck and the ushers were cleaning up and giving us looks. We left quickly, my sneakers sticking to the floor on the way out.
parking lot. It was dusk now, but the storytellers weren't on yet.
"what now?" I asked.
"um...well I dunno im going to get high with my friends you hate."
"oh great."
"I cant give you a ride just take the fuckin bus."
"go die"
he turned and left. I began walking for the bus stop. It was cold. The winter light was blue and brown from the smog of the old factory in the background. I crossed the train tracks and waited under the metal sign for the bus. I put on my headphones and watched the lights turn on. The bus came, I gave the correct amount of change and sat in the back. I leaned my head against the window and watched the lights from passing cars reflected on the window go by. I tried to catch them with my hand. When I looked around everyone on the bus had there head down, no one talked. Some were reading, some were listening to music, but I had been the only one looking around or out the window. They all looked so sad. It was a Friday night, and it was obvious they were all going home. At one of the stops and old man got on and sat next to me, without looking at me once. I looked at him until I got off. He had a wedding ring and all his hair was white. He looked down just like everyone else. 'poor souls' I thought again.
I got home ok. I fell asleep with the light on and in my clothes.
the next morning I went to his house. I couldn't stay home. I hadn't changed or showered. His white trash mom opened the screen door and let me in ignoring the smell of stale cigarettes and feet. He was asleep on the floor with the blue screen of the TV basking the walls. He was wearing the same clothes to. There was a half empty bottle of vodka next to him. I chugged it. I lay down next to him and put my head on his chest. He smelled like old ham. I listened to his heartbeat for 10 minutes. Then I ran to the bathroom and vomited into the pristine toilet bowl.
Everything had turned to puke.

i actually sort of miss writing someones name with my fingertip on the fogged glass during my shower.

Dear Lord...

you are the smartie pants! you're very intectual

and love to read and write..its all

good..you'll be successful later on in life!


What Pin Up girl are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Technical knock out

Yesterday on the bus I sat next to a person who I am past acquaintances with but not quite friends with. It was very awkward, but luckily we decided to eaves drop. At first we couldn't decide whether to listen to the slutty girls talk about there friend who "sketches them out" or the two nerd girls behind us, but soon the sluts got of the bus. At first the conversation was very dull, but it had two climaxes. The girl on the left was Hispanic and she thought family came before everything. She also "had a brain and knew how to use it" (her very words) and is very good at manipulating people. Her Spanish teacher, adults., parents, she had the ability to get anything she wanted. Apparently. Girl on the right was adopted as well as her little brother, whose mother was a heroin addict and was living on the streets. Then it went back to a bunch of crap I wont go into. Soon my companion got off to exchange his pesos and wells Fargo, and that was the end of that.




lately listening to music has been a religious experience. And everything seems so bizarre.

sitting in the back seat underneath the passing light beams from the streetlamps, on a road that was leading to somplace he didnt want to be, he slowly fadded away. looking out of the mud coated car window he didnt see anything below, and above he was blinded by the flashes of yellow light. he turned his head and looked down at his hands, he needed to clean the dirt form beneath his fingernails. then he slowly fell asleep. he woke up suddenly because a truck behind them in the tunnel had honked its horn for good luck. he held his breath to make a wish, but by the time he thought of somthing remotly worth while the car had allready shot out of the mountain. he made his wish anyhow. up the curving road, and instead of slowing down the car started going faster and faster. around the turns the car started to go into the other lanes. he wasnt worried though, and tried to pick some of the dirt off his nails. the car was going ninety now and a particularly strong curve was coming up. the car went flying off the road and flew up then slowly started falling down. the radio was playing some pretty music that he hadnt heard before, and all the light now was from the moon and stars that the trees had restricted before. he died a few moments later, his wish came true.

Peace, Bitch

Who can turn the world on with a smile?



I have no motivation what so ever, and I am extremely passive aggressive and anxious.

I'm not gunna make it after all.

why i need a good swift kick to the arse

remeber that somthingsomthing toilet seats story i wrote a while back? the one with the peanut m&m's? remeber that fantastic last part and ending?
i think i deleted it.
kill me

Apparently the peaberrys on the corner of broadway and baseline is going to be closed and replased by a starbucks.
a tribute:

just another brick in the wall

I have nothing to say.

after watching the wall today with my hippie stoner school chums, i told my father and low and behold, it got him started on a (aprroximatly) 5 minute rant on how much he hates pink floyd. there very bloated and unoriginal, apparently. and we dont need no education is a very ignorant song. he even tied transendentalism into it.

i just dont like them that much.

here are some images i stole from other people; hopefully you can steal them to:

I do not share your "enthusiasm", your "lust for life". i wish i could just cut certian people out of my life, and not feel bad about it.

california dreamin'

All the leaves are brown (all the leaves are brown)
And the sky is grey (and the sky is grey)
I've been for a walk (I've been for a walk)
On a winter's day (on a winter's day)
I'd be safe and warm (I'd be safe and warm)
If I was in L.A. (if I was in L.A.)
California dreaming (California dreaming)
On such a winter's day

Stopped into a church
I passed along the way
Well, I got down on my knees (got down on my knees)
And I pretend to pray (I pretend to pray)
You know the preacher likes the cold (preacher likes the cold)
He knows I'm gonna stay (knows I'm gonna stay)
California dreaming (California dreaming)
On such a winter's day

All the leaves are brown (all the leaves are brown)
And the sky is grey (and the sky is grey)
I've been for a walk (I've been for a walk)
On a winter's day (on a winter's day)
If I didn't tell her (if I didn't tell her)
I could leave today (I could leave today)
California dreaming (California dreaming)
On such a winter's day (California dreaming)
On such a winter's day (California dreaming)
On such a winter's day

excuse me, conversation hearts.

angel
im me
email
wiz kid
u r a 10
b mine
luv u
u r a qt
cutie
let's read
first kiss
i hope


GOD i love candy hearts

She had things cut out from magazines taped up on her walls. Her room smelled like stale cigarettes and feet. And her raw ugliness awoke something animal in me.

We went down to the corner gas station and bought bad coffee, Irish. The Irish didn't help. Its Michigan, so it was windy, and it blew her long, dead, scraggly hair out of her scarred face. In the station she had been fingering a quarter in between her thumb and forefinger, it was gone now. I had nothing to say, and the silence was deafening, I almost didn't hear the wind. Her smokers cough broke it. Sharp, rasp, and from deep in the lungs. I didn't know how old she was, she could've been very young but her eyes shown that she had lived some mystery. Poor girl, I thought. You could tell she was sad, and you could tell she knew you were sad too. We walked to Bill's Laundromat. I carried her bag. Her dirty laundry.

dirty laundry

p.s
molly i swear im not stealing i took this one

xox

Manorexic

I think I'm scared of boys. no matter how "non-threatening" or "jewish" they may be.

Third part

He preferred the peanut m&m's he was popping in his mouth to the regular kind. Wrappers littered the room, I saw every single one when I walked in the door and heard them crinkle under my feet. He made no effort to hide them.
"we're a pair of pretentious fuckers, aren't we?" he said, without a hello.
"basically. Wow, the truth is harsh. I've become all I've ever hated." I joked.
"I know how that feels."
We were mean, bitter, cynical, bitches. We hated everyone and flaunted it. But eventually the thrill wears out. So, our entire purpose of friendship was wearing out. Before we were introduced, we didn't know the other existed. We both listened to the same music, wore the same clothes, liked the same movies, but were never aware of each others presence.

he jumped up off the bed quickly and grabbed his jacket from the chair as he flew out the door, wrappers crinkling behind him. I knew to follow. We got into his late 80's Honda and were driving down to the pizza place. I reached under my seat looking for a pack of cigarettes but all I found was an old bob Dylan tape. I was about to push it into the cassette player when he shrieked
"DON'T DO IT, IT EATS TAPES!"
"sorrysorrysorry!"
I decided to instead turn on the radio. Because his car was two decades old, not only was the seat foam coming out from the tears in the seams, but the antenna had fallen off too. So all we heard was white noise with what sounded like moody college radio underneath. I started to stare out the window.
"come back, daydreamer."
we were suddenly at the pizzeria.
"want a slice?"
"I don't feel like eating."
I walked to the back and slid into one of the booths in the corner. He came back with a greasy piece of pizza that looked exactly like his greasy face. I watched him poor a pound of Parmesan onto it. Then I watched him eat it. unlikemost people, this didn't seem to make him uncomfortable. He just kept shoving it in his face.

We started to have the same conversation we always have. First music.
" I love that song where it starts out really shitty and raw and then changes to those lyrics: ' those heartbreakers need to
leave this city this city leave this city and neva come back 'till there pure again.' "
"yeah, I like that to." the mystery with all rock lyrics is that the lines sound so great in the song, but taken out of them, they usually sound like crap.
then we moved on to:
"I hate people so much. They're ridiculous. I mean, look at that couple over there, does she really think she's gunny get laid giggling her leg like that?"
"I know! She's so unattractive. And you can totally see that the guy is just with her out of pity."
"or he cant find anyone better."
the sick pleasure we used to get out of this awful commentary had faded, and now we were just doing it out of routine.
"is it ok if we go down to the gas station?"
we left the pizzeria and walked past where he parked his car, and down to the corner. He bought peanut m&m's, and I got a tootsie roll pop. As I went up to the counter to pay the 25 cents I owed, I saw the nirvana junkie behind the cash register open his mouth.
"if you ask me how many licks I'm going to your manager and getting your ass fired for smelling like pot."
he looked slightly shocked. Back up the street to the car. Once we got in, he instantly opened the m&m's. I had stopped long ago expecting him to offer me some.
"I HATE this town. There's nothing to do. Its so goddamn boring."
another thing we had covered many times.
"well we could just drive around until we see something, or we could go to another town."
"I don't have enough money for gas to do that." he had already finished, and was crumpling up the wrapper.

i guess your just to cool for me now...

LAMP; chapped lips kiss blistered fingers

lamp.

I know every nook and krany of boulder city. This, sadly, is not a feat of any kind. I feel shellshocked, horrified, and culture clashed all at the same time. Boulder sucks, Colorado sucks. The first Saturday since I got back I felt bored, for the first time in 3 weeks, within three hours of waking. There is nothing to do, nothing to see, nothing to experience that hasn't been done a hundred times before. The monotony of school as dribbled into the weekend. Everything is the same and systematic. I want something new! Something fresh! This happened to me around the same time last year and I regretted every choice I made to make it exciting again, so I am a little hesitant to do anything about it, but I cant go on like this for much longer!

the door creaks open

i'm baaaaaaaaaaaaack

I see the awkward girls from my middle school growing into themeselves and becoming more and more beautiful and part of me becomes sad.




this is a story i started a couple months ago:
He preferd the peanut m&m's he was popping in his mouth to the regular kind. wrappers littered the room, I saw every single one when I walked in the door and heard them crinkle under my feet. He made no effort to hide them.
"we're a pair of pretentious fuckers, arent we?" he said, without a hello.
"basically. wow, the truth is harsh. I've become all I've ever hated." I joked.
"I know how that feels."
We were mean, bitter, cynical, bitches. we hated everyone and flauntend it. But eventually the thrill wears out. So, our intire purpose of friendship was wearing out. befor we were intoroduced, we didnt know the other excisted. we both listend to the same music, wore the same clothes, liked the same movies, but were never aware of each others presence.



i have absolutly no idea where i was going with this.

when nothing else, talk about the weather (pt. 2) past memories

it snowed! hurrah! half the school was gone today, another hurrah, i cant stand them. last year we had such a warm winter everyone forgot about a good, healthy amount of snow and pink cheeks. well today they were bright red. it was -2 when i woke up. only 4 more days of school left. praise allah!/jesus/moses/buddah/mother earth. i remeber having a conversation the other day with a shroom acid stoner senior about how the earth has a living soul. the core of the earth is molton lava and is warm, and its been warm for billions of years. we are earths children!! sorry, hippie complexe kicking in. i also remeber when i was six going with my father to daughters go to work day and meeting some of his coworkers. one of them was an attractive 20somthing man who was really nice to me, so naturally i developed a chrush on him. in eigth grade i overheard my father telling my mother that he was gay and had contracted HIV.
yet another memory is of an elementry school yard chum, whose name was sophie also. i didnt realize it at the time, but she was amazingly lavashly rich. i have many happy childhood memories (a rare thing for me) about playing unicorns and faeries at her house, riding bareback on her horses (she had 5), looking at the buttercups by her stream, and swimming in her pond. we put on plays and even once (with our girlscout troup, another disaster) we made dinner for our familys. i didnt think of any of these things once for about 4 years, and lately the memories keep popping up. one halloween we had a large bonfire.
she goes to boulder high now and is a slut.

I HATE colorado weather

my nail polish color reminds me of 50's hospitals. i miss liking him, but i know i will never like him the same way again. anyways, there might be a new love in my life. Chris Brewster (my god) wants me to burn him Belle & Sebastion. i am honoured! watched trainspotting today, not about people who run after trains at all! just another heroin movie but i liked it. in my "bizarro life" all my school chums talk about each other as soon as they get the chance. i wonder what they say about me? i usually just lie low.

i played with guns in class today.

i swear, my hair tangles every chance it gets. its so cold it goes straight to your bone. i'm not giong to be warm again until may. i hate waking up when its dark outside. my skin is so dry its like its been frozen and is cracking like ice does when you step on it. even my lips are dry, but i love the dead skin on your lips you peel off with your teeth when your bored and biting your lip in class. i just wish it would finally snow.

The end

Pretty soon she had had enough. Lux wanted control of her life again. She decided to throw away the bird. Of coarse it took her a while to work up the courage to do it, but finally she threw it into the trash can, picked up the black garbage bag, and put it infront of her house for garbage day. Then she opened the windows to air out the house and tried to forget about it. It seemed to help at first. The stench was gone, as well as the flies. But about three weeks later, Lux started noticing a rash. It started on her hands. Lots of red bumps started appearing. They started small but once the rash began moving up her arms the bumps grew bigger. She figured she was just having an allergic reaction to the bird, and it would soon go away.it just seemed to get progressively worse. Lux would have gone to the doctor, but she didn't have any insurance, and was worried the doctor might some how find out about the bird and she would have to pay even more bills. Lux kept finding black feathers around the house, something she also figured was left behind from the bird. But soon she found the feathers in her bed. And on her skin. And different bumps on her back that were hard as bone. She could've sworn she had started to shrink. Her clothes barely fit her at all. When she looked in the mirror her eyes were just all black, and as strange as it sounded, she had been growing more feathers. Her heart rate had rapidly increased. She had become some ugly beast, he long blond hair had all fallen out, her pale skin was either covert with feathers or the rash, which had turned an awful purple color. She had strange bones poking out everywhere. She didn't dare leave her apartment, she kept the curtains drawn, to frightened to let anyone see her, to frighted to let anyone help her. She didn't know what to do. She was horrified with what was happening to her, and unable to bare looking in the mirror, she covert them with news papers. Lux couldnt take it anymore. She went to her medicine cabinet hoping to find something to get her away from what she couldn't even tell was really happening or not. But as she opened the cabinet in her bathroom, a powerful pain took over her, coming from her back and mouth. She was lying on the floor screaming as she shrunk smaller and smaller, and wings ripped open from her back, long sleek wings that were so black they looked blue and purple under the bathroom light. Her mouth had morphed into a sweeping beak, and when she tried to cry out in pain all that came out was an ugly, raspy caw. Soon the pain subsided. The bathroom window was open. Lux flapped her wings for the first time, and flew out the window.

a troubled teen had a run-in with the law

i had to go to the "social" councler today. it was about unexused absences. which is weird because last year i had so much more absences due to ditching and they(the man) didnt bat and eyelash, but this year i have like two and they are getting on my case. even said they'd be sending a letter home, but thats ok because its all ligit with the parents. the councler was a bitch for sure but thats to be expected.
ANYWAY
last saturday night i did something worth mentioning in a blog (for once). i got caught with my comrad trespassing on a rooftop. the man (pigs,cops,police, whateves) were involved. but we didnt get a ticket so all is well. but Im missing the premire of harry potter as consiquence. oh well i am actually not as siked for it as i was last year.

there has been a HUGE harvest moon two days in a row. and its cold and dry now. i lick my lips perpetually and dusk has a beautifull grey blue transparent light that i cant figure out what color it would be on the color wheel (we're making them in art) but it reminds me of picasso's blue period.

i am finally getting along non-awkwardly with my friends boyfriend.

something strange happend today. i was talking to the past love and he seemed diffrent, i couldnt figure out what it was. i thought that maybe when i was infatuated i saw him as an object and not a person, but i knew that wasnt true. i later realized that i had been talking to him without having the overwhelming rush of emotion which had sortof been acting as though i was seeing him through a colored lense or somthing. i dunno it was strange, diffrent.

i bought converse shoes made in the seventies for 2.99 at the local salvation army. i could sell them to a japanese collector for millions of dollars, but there pretty comfy.

catnap.

today, was nice. not wonderful, but nice. i went to school at the crack of dawn for a block two periods, which both turned out to be easy for once. then i went out to lunch, came home at tweleve and slept until four. my dad excused me from eighth peroid (french) which i had been dreading. i was worried when my dad went to parent teacher confrences but, the only thing bad they said was that i would have a's if i was willing to work harder, because i am brilliant. more or less. then the family watched victor/victoria, which i had been wanting to see for a while. and now, a three day weekend.
tralala.

reason # 24759 why i hate sundays

i spent sunday afternoon listening to frank sinatra and looking up biblical allusions. pathetic. school tomorrow.
i hate sundays.

Young adult novel

I do not like suburban kids who's lives are soap operas because they have nothing better to do. Eventually all the problems sound the same. Like all the episodes of the O.C will end up repeating them selves.
i DO like being stuck up in the mountains all day listening to the pixies and having my brian light up. and not seeing my family for 24 hours and pretending to run away. and being in a hot tub while it snows.

my ultimate stoner fantasy is watching beavis and butthead while eating spaggehtio's.

angst

so today, at home, i was wearing my little boy star wars t shirt that i bought for 7 bucks at the local target. my brother saw it and said "why are you wearing a star wars t shirt?". my father was in the room and he overheard and said "she's trying to be ironic." and i said "no, i genuinly like star wars. well the old ones." and then, to my dismay, he looked down and said: "oh. why are you wearing a star wars t shirt?"
le sigh.

the yellow pages

i think im going to start writing letters to random people i find out of the phone book.

Making progress

She got out the shower and walked to her living room. Lux was half expecting the dead bird to be gone for some reason. She was still in her towel when she turned on the nine o' clock news. An announcement on a possible sniper, four people dead. Then on to other news, a reminder for daylight savings. Two weeks past. It was now late enough in October to be discussing Halloween costumes. The bird had begun to rot and the neighbors had complained of a sickly sweet fish smell. But Lux still hadn't gotten rid of it. To be honest, it scared the shit out of her. She was to afraid to move it. Here was something that had distracted her for days, instead of just hours. It was just so frightening, she had even been having terrifying nightmares about it. Dreams where she would be walking along a ditch covered in the fallen leaves that she didn't recognize. Every time she would come across an old decrepid Victorian house, with a woman standing with her back to Lux. There would always be crows flying overhead and in the trees. Then the woman would turn around and instead of a human head, there would be the dead head of the raven, staring back at her with the cold eyes. Lux would wake up, shaking violently. The first few times she had thrown up, then it was just uncontrollable sobbing. The deep throat filled gasping kind. But Lux was fascinated by it. She even had played with the idea of being the bird for Halloween. Lux was thinking about the dream now, as she watched the TV, which was now on weather. She had started smoking again. She hadn't picked up a pack since she was 15, to look cool, but now she did it to calm her nerves. The raven was like a ghost, a presence you weren't sure of which left a creepy aftermath. The bird had obviously changed her. She had been drinking more coffee to keep her up at night to avoid the inevitable dream. Overall, she was just perpetually on edge. Shifty. Lux didnt want to stop moving. She even left her lonely apartment, the only place she felt comfort, more and more to go to the cafe. Lux had even started to think about men again. There was another regular at the Cafe, who came at night like her, that she had noticed. But she didn't talk to him, and avoided eye contact at all cost. She knew she couldn't tell anyone about the bird, and that was the only thing that she wanted to talk about.

Work in progress

She wasn't depressed, just unhappy. She first realized this fact on the bus ride home as she was listening to the insane rants of the homeless Blackman had seen this man many times before, it is hard to avoid anyone in such a small town time he was talking about how amazing a dog's sense of smell was. " they can smell what you had for lunch they smell each other they smell there children! They can smell when you last defecated they can smell if you had just been driving just gotten out of the car they can smell your period the don't like that." he had been going on like this, without stopping, the intire bus ride. Lux couldn't help but smile every now and then at all the uncomfortable people trying to ignore him. Lux was taking the bus back to an empty apartment with only the neighbors cat that she was taking care of to welcome her. Yes, she was lonely, but so is everyone else. Loneliness wasn't the issue. She didn't know what it was that was making her dissatisfied, of coarse she had tried to figure out what it was. She had tried disappearing her abnormally strange dreams, and even tried talking to her fake friends who never listened, but she new that wouldn't help. Then Lux decided to move on to more drastic solutions. Getting stoned in strangers homes with stained carpets who felt the same unhappiness and emptiness she did. One reason she did know that was causing it was that her talents were going to waste. But whose aren't? She bought some pencils, a sketchbook and a fresh notebook, as well as a camera. But none of these items helped. She didn't know what to fill them up with. So Lux decided to just give it time, maybe she was just in a 'funk'. It was now October, and nothing had changed. The notebook was empty, her camera film undeveloped. The only difference was she was not as desperate to find out how to free herself of the weight, and had accepted it as her fate of loosing touch completely. She was more alone then ever, disconnecting herself from all the girls who tried to fix her up with some guy, hoping that she would be fun again. Eventually they all gave up and had stopped calling. Tonight she was walking down her street from the bust stop around dusk. It was brisk and she was wearing all black. She was looking down as she walked, hoping to avoid small talk with the neighbors. All of a sudden she stopped. There was something dark and big in the middle of the road. She walked over to it. roadkill. Or was it? She took a second look. No, it was a dead bird. A raven, and it looked as though it had been killed by a dog. Blood at the throat and hunks of purpleblack feathers everywhere. But when she looked at her reflection in its open dead eyes, she felt so cold and empty as if ice water and been dumped inside her. She picked up the dead bird and carried it home. Once she got inside she placed it on the kitchen table, next to her dirty dishes. Then she took a hot shower.

i just finished watching alice in wonerland

everything is fallling apart and i dont know how to put it back together.

fuck.

Short story

Irving Monroe is tall and skinny. When he was growing up in Baltimore, he stuck out among the Jews. He told me he feels like an anachronism. When you meet Irving, you can tell he's itching for a cigarette. But since he wont be 18 for another three months, he never has one. Usually he tries to bum them off the homeless and disabled. He would ask more of the majority (to be politically correct) but then he gets dirty looks. Before you get to know Irving well, you want him to be asexual, or asocial, asomething. But he's not, an your always disappointed. He's straight, and what you would label a 'floater'. In highschool, people think they're being really deep by rejecting labels, but Irving knows better and accepts it. Whenever I go to meet Irving, its always at the same place. The cafe. He's always sitting in the back, in one of the faux red leather booths, with a pot of Japanese tea that tastes like seaweed. Every time I sit down, he doesn't even try the small talk and just bitches about how everyone at the cafe are either hippies or trust fund babies. Besides the regular. But, where else are you going to get liquid sushi? Booth culture is an amazing thing. They're very personal with out being to close to someone. A perfect place for conversation. After the complaints, Irving will tell me about some movie I have never heard of, (usually expressionist films), or some poem that only sounds slightly familiar. While he is talking, I nod my head and pretend to understand while watching the brown moth flutter around the ceiling lamp. After tea we go out and walk the ally ways and climb on roofs. Occasionally we go on elevator tides, but only if he wants to tell me about some mystery girl. The problem with our tall skinny boy is that he is attractive. So Occasionally an even stupider girl will come over with her little friend to try to talk to him. But he just stares back and eventually they will leave. Irving likes stuningly beautiful brunettes with mystery and lines of poems hand written on there cigarettes. The 15 year olds who try to bat eyelashes at him are not those girls. Every Saturday we take the bus down to the city and go to the art museum. Art is one thing I can understand. We go on satiates because it is free. Our preference is modern art. Tacky, I know, but we love it. Irving is not an artist, he is a writer. Now, most literary types are highly pretentious and a pain in the ass. They all want to be the star, they're as bad as drama nerds. Irving knows this, so he keeps his mouth shut. When I'm with Irving, I usually tear up whatever piece of paper that might be near by. Napkins, bus transfers, Styrofoam cups, anything. He always asks me if I am anxious about something, but I lie and say no. I know what you must be thinking, but don't get the wrong idea about Irving and I, all I am is someone to hear his unnaturally high voice appreciate things that most people don't know about yet. He is nice though. He gave his old holy gray sweater once. It smelled like hardwood floor and coffee and cigarettes. Exactly like the cafe we go to so often. The smell is all gone, but Occasionally I will put it on and read a book he recommended. If you haven't guessed it yet, I am in love with Irving Monroe. It is a bit of a handicap, but I don't think he's noticed yet.