Fall-ness

I have been listening to Brandi Carlile obsessively and I beginning to think my default musical choices are the only thing noticeably gay about me. That, and the rainbow sticker on my car. I am pretty okay with this, space from things is usually the best policy. I apply this also to my writing of course... but right now I just want to separate.

As silly as it is I really cannot wait to move down to Kent. Something about that place fills me.

I took my sister's pictures the other day... this is like her 20th senior shoot. But her beauty is something really to behold.

Day Dates

mmm what a beautiful day. I love the beginnings of things, how everything is that shiny metallic or that tempting outer shell of wrapping paper. Your fingers itch to rip all that paper, discover what lies on the inside, but for a small second you hesitate. Unsure to find out what you have in your hands or just keep it that delicious surprise. I always mean to pull the paper slow, but it never ends up like that. Everything usually ends up crumpled on the floor.

i want to be back here today.

feedback?

John

One time on the porch,
There were a thousand people with beer.
I didn’t think people could see me,
I was floating, maybe sinking,
tides shifting with the music.
Waves of flannel, swells of tight jeans,
jutting against my cotton dress
snagging me on rocks.

His eyes were the first thing I noticed,
Dry ice blue that melted in the middle,
He reminded me of Gabrielle,
archangel messenger from God.
Except with an unshaven face,
secondhand clothes unwashed,
just salty from the wind.

We didn’t talk about anything.
Just silly comments
about girls with no underwear,
the boys trying to score.
And the music.
We talked about the music.

If he delivered a message
I only just received it.
Small quakes in my fingers,
as Erica cries in my ear.
I wonder about the night
I tried to die
about the line in the sand.
Things are either here or gone.

I want the world to halt.
The ants to freeze,
the baby elephant at the zoo
to stop playing with his big red ball in the water.
busy streets with people in business suits
power suits, jogging suits, hipster suits
who forget the sky exists,
can’t tell you the north star,
or how to get home
be still.

remember how fragile we are.
We aren’t as indestructible as we think.

I have been jumpy lately. And butterflies are eating the insides of my ribcage. These old panics are getting real tiresome. I wish I could just know what I was looking for. Know what I wanted to say. I have this terrible desire to be loved by every person I meet. Like it will make up for something I am lacking. So if you see me... I will smile harder than I really want to, and try so hard to make you laugh. Just give me a hug. Tell me monsters aren't real and that I too am able to be loved. I exist in your reality as well as my own. I wish I had Joanna Solfrian's words:

Sometimes a Gray Mood Comes

Sometimes a gray mood comes

an elected valley in the heart

a flock of clouds-

it is then that the woman

walks very far to find warm weather,

a simple horizon with a sea,

a boat, and a shore that is long.

There is a man waiting

with flowers at the bedside.

Sometimes she returns,

sometimes he must go find her.

The sea, the boat, the shore-

these things know where she is-

as does the presence of death in every lily,

which is not the whole of the lily,

but something of it.