forgive me, november. i was busy falling in love with how you looked and keeping precipitation out of my car and finding lucky pennies everywhere. december = the decemberists.
for when i'm feeling negative:
i like finding things. i like losing things on purpose. i like bumping elbows in the car. i like smiles as apologies. i like not having to think of what to say. i like floral wallpaper. i like helping. i like letting people help when i don't need it. i like grey, i like purple better. i like my mom's laugh. i like anticipation. i like chuck palahniuk and how his words keep me awake. i like feeling nervous. i like the Quin sisters. i like cheerios and hugging people. i like cracking knuckles and biting lips and black coffee and inside jokes and empty roads and when you can rub your eyes and fending for yourself and slide projectors and when the people making your chai call you sweetheart.
i like many more things than just these, but right now, they are what matter.

i don't blame you.
it's just that my age is lying,
we're (not) adults.

white white skies.
white white lies.

these are my twisted words
sore, full of breath
invading my hollow chest
fumbling fingers
pale, cold
fragile
envy in every second
almost malicious
filling
my purposely empty mind
right
on
time
heart beats
behind your eyes
almost as if they were mine

http://www.playlist.com/searchbeta/tracks#south-%20wasted

immediates for maybe something a little less temporary, maybe some self control, maybe i'll stop caring so much, maybe i'll care too much, maybe.
my guilt is ignited by the novelty of my vices. i realize when i grow accustomed to myself, my flaws, i no longer expect much. but i don't know myself that well.
the possibility is what hurts most.
i'm surrounded by beginnings and ends,
i love the volatility.
i'm at home in uncertainty.
and how could i sit still with so much world i have yet to see?

clearly, you said.
it makes perfect sense. everything does.
close, so close, so close minded.
the tighter i hold to things, the more i lose my grip.
the more i lose.

here:
an experiment, entitled selflessness.
1. there is still sun, it's everywhere.
getting all over everything.
beautiful
beautiful
beautiful
and it doesn't cost a thing.

2. this thing i'm doing, it's called learning.
falling is what i need sometimes.

3. i suddenly realize my longing for you, my God,
is madness. because here You are. and here i am.
what is keeping me?
me?
me?

4. i am not hopeless.
i am full of hope.
hopeful.
at least,
i hope so.

Come on, feel the Groningen! from MUZIEKTELEVISIE.NL on Vimeo.

01010000 01101100 01100101 01100001 01110011 01100101 00100000 01101000 01101111 01101100 01100100 00100000 01101101 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101001 01110100 00101100 00100000 01101001 00100000 01100100 01101111 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01110100 01110010 01110101 01110011 01110100 00100000 01101101 01111001 01110011 01100101 01101100 01100110 00101110.

hearing these things already, my 'could have beens', it's strange, i'm still so young. it's a relief not to have potential, i don't have to think. but i do.
sorry, god, i know what's coming, i'm sure you taught me better, it must be frustrating, watching me.
i'm growing down, i know. i'll make it up to you somehow. i'm tired of being wasteful. i'm tired.

i'd rather fall myself
than let you
drag
me
down.

sometimes things happen to me,
sometimes i happen to things.
sometimes we meet in the middle.

a balancing act.

my hurt is naive.

please forgive this (me).

take this from me,
make it useful.
it's like making electricity from dirt,
it's beautiful.

one more, one less.

my mind is a nomad but my feet are still
right
here.

i am forever dissatisfied.

i apologize.

maybe i feel old.
maybe i need to act accordingly.
i hope you understand
my not being
there
here
too.

be happy, be happy.

give, take, give, take. take take take.

i wasn't made to stay indoors.
i want a place with less inhibitions and wasps and more smiles and gratitude.
i've been listening to too much electronica and eating too much oatmeal and sleeping too much during the day and hardly at all at night.
my mind has been turning too fast.

but more and more i'm reminded of how lucky i am to be in the place i'm in.
and the sun has been awfully friendly.
sprinkling us with freckles.



http://www.last.fm/music/freshcut/_/Northern+Lights?autostart

my life is growing more and more surreal. but i don't mind at all. i am full of ups and i am full of downs, but so is everyone else. i'm learning not to expect, not to want, not to know, just to be. human being.
suddenly, things don't seem so complicated at all.


my backyard is filled with dryads.

today, i met a man named lyle. he had very blue eyes and a very white beard. we talked about coyotes. it was a good day.

the clouds looked like the ocean. waves and waves and waves.
and ever since the dishwasher broke, i've been happier.
or maybe it's because my sister is home.

one of the two.

i just stand in place. the world moves around me. and i get to watch.
the hall forever with lights forever, empty.
full full full. very full.
because that's how it was meant to be.
the tile, it makes waves underneath me, swirls, i feel it push me up, i push back a little. i will ride the tide. i will be a seafarer of concrete. i will.
points of light in my vision. like looking at the stars when you look at everything. its beautiful. its beautiful. its frightening.

oh my head.

it could've been seconds.
it could've been years.

sticks and stones may break my bones,
but you will be the death of me.


i'm not the truth.
no.
no.
no.

oh. boy.

i would like to leave this place. i would like to say goodbye to everything. i would like to live two weeks from where i am. because i expect everything and i expect nothing. you cannot surprise me. you cannot phase me anymore. the earth will open and swallow me up and i will fall, but the morning always comes. always. always. always.

thousands and thousands and thousands.

things:

1) ceilings
2) cassette tapes
3) wind
4) sore throats
5) catholicism

six thousand three hundred forty three and up.

impulse control.
my attempt at formality.

please god please god please.

telling words to the branches, shiver and shake in the wind, feeling heard, falling hard. the leaves are gone. the trucks made too much smoke, choked it out into the air. hold the doorknob before you go in, listen at the edge, wait, wait. clean, quiet. strange. run away, come back, run away, come back, drive off the road. duck under bridges. what are you afraid of, anyway? it doesn't sound right, something's not right, i'm sure. how does it feel knowing what you're up against? it's alright, it's ok. i don't mind.

because it feels good to accelerate, to feel like i'm going somewhere.

look up. the sun is exploding, the sky is on fire, white, yellow, orange, smoking, swirling. love in its most colorful form. i want to breathe it in, these vast expanses. i want to feel it smolder in my throat. i want to breathe without boundaries.

what i want is to be empty.

4,6 -6,4,5,3,7- 3,7,6,6 -9,4,3,7,3 -9,6,8- 2,7,3,
4- 5,2,9- 3,6,9,6 -6,6- 8,4,3- 2,6,5,3 -4,7,6,8,6,3
4- 7,7,2,9 -8,4,2,8- 7,6,6,3,8,4,4,6,4 -7,4,2,5,7 -6,3- 8,7
2,6,3- 7,3,8,7 -6,3- 3,6,9,6 -4,6 -9,6,8,7- 9,2,7,6 -2,7,6,7...

i counted and counted on my fingers, one by one by one, but when they told me about you, i couldn't help but wonder if it was time for a change of pace.
we could've witnessed something beautiful.

i can walk down the street and look at buildings, i can deconstruct them with my eyes. i can make them crumble. i can look at the lake and make it dry up, i can look at the water and make it overflow, it can cover all of us, we'll live underwater. i can look at myself, i can peel myself away, i can be transparent, i can see my veins, my bones through my translucent skin. i can see my heart beat. i can watch the electricity, it flows through the air, crawling through the sky, crackling, sparking. sparkling. i can. but i won't. i am so tired. i am so tired.

today i thought something and said something and read something and wondered something and regretted something and i'm almost sure that i'll look back and think badly of myself, maybe, someday feeling as though i know what's going on and feeling as though i can see, really truly see instead of just this, but maybe i won't. maybe i never will. today was grey, the kind of grey you think about when the clouds are sloppy or when you're alone but aren't lonely. or maybe you are.

god grant me patience.

you are the smell before rain,
you are the blood in my veins.

an explosion is what i'm hoping for,
fire and collision and air and noise.
young, undone, your sweet little whitewashed mind.
transparent like saran wrap.
unpredictable like your tempered volcano heart.

and oh, when you erupt.

ka boom.


i could build a balloon and fill it with all this hot air and float about in this sea of clouds.
tossed by this fitful wind.
far away.

its a filmstrip morning. i walk through the icy confetti falling from the clouds, melting, sticking. it feels like a birthday party, a surprise party. congratulations should be in store. i congratulate myself, there being no one else around.

'way to make it through this year. way to be somewhat functional. way to make yourself breakfast and dress yourself. good job not breaking everything you came in contact with.'

but i don't really mean it. because today's not a party. it's not a surprise. it's exactly what i think it will be, a day with video clips from our friendship playing endlessly through my mind, complete with a soundtrack. a very nice soundtrack.
you would've loved it.
and it looked the same outside at eight as it did at noon as it does now.
grey grey grey grey.



congratulations.

i am so sorry.