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.

when poems suck
they really suck.




last night at around eleven my mother was blasting ramnstien and nine inch nails. what an experiance.

turns out the scale was on kilo's....

Daytime television

I am sick. I should've stayed home yesterday but I made up for it today, so it was cops, Oprah, court TV and me. And lots of tea. nug I feel like crap. but.i.must.get.better. And we have guests from France who like to wear no pants eating here. And getting drunk. I am pretending to be asleep because I don't like people and I don't like creepy old men. Two excellent reasons in my opinion. I hope IM better for Saturday I do appreciate a good work of art.

Demonic witching hour

Last night after finding my rosary to protect me from demonic possession(even though i am jewish) I turned off the light to go to sleep. Then I "sensed" something and decided it was Lucifer coming to eat my flesh so I decided to turn on the light. When I did there was a hella big spider. Usually I am able to get rid of spiders and then return to sleep bug free but this one was really freakin big. So I covered it with a teacup and put a post it with"spider" underlined on it so when my mother came to pick it up she wouldn't scream.
that was last night.

ahem

i was stood up at lunch today....
you better have a damn good reason.

Exhaustion to the point of failure

I am so tired. So very tired. When I was walking home from school (which was built by fascists) it was hot and I was lisining to tunic by sonic youth and as I passed the lavender bushes I almost started sobbing. I am not a depressed person, I do not have a disease, but when I am in school all I can think about is the best way to kill myself in all its irony. I'm not going to though. I'm waiting until I'm at least 30.

The truth has been told+ labor day

www.nothingnicetosay.com
funniest thing ever...if you know what there talking about.

so since I haven't really posted very much lately I'll try to do a nice long one. Today I was at borders (yes, corporate businesses suck but its a good bookstore) and I saw the most amazing fashion book ever. But its 85 dollars(!!), which I have saved but I don't know if I want to make the commitment. The book is called Sample, and it features 100 designers. The book is set up like a portfolio and has sketches, notes, ads, and backstage photos. I know I would pour hours over it. Its exactly what I have been looking for. If it was 50 dollars there would be no question but 85 dollars for a book is a lot. nnnnnngggggg I have no idea.
so this was the last weekend of summer. I think I did a good job closing it. Streaking, camping-sorta, and late night shadow puppet porn along with a little bit of intellectual thought. This weekend was almost magical, dream-like
god I felt so hollow on the tennis court.
and I saw two shooting stars and both times I wished for you.
I like how genny was to scared to go into the cemetery.
it makes me want to cry.
warmth at night




I hate school it totally drains me.