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