(count every beautiful thing we can see) [23 Dec 2009|11:52pm] sandandthestars I would pay GOOD money to make out hardcore with my ex boyfriend's ex girlfriend GOOD LORD she is GORGEOUS.

(count every beautiful thing we can see) they say you aught-- [23 Dec 2009|01:00pm] palebythesea Why is it that December manages to disappear so quickly, every time? The holidays, of course play their part, but just like with everything else-- the concern is to race to the finish line so quickly that the tape marking your victory is on the ground before you realize the marathon is over. New Year's Eve, wham bam, thank you ma'am. Lather, rinse, repeat for 2010 (debating; "twenty-ten, or "two-oh-one-oh"). Strangely though, I feel like I've been living life in geologic time. The beginning of December is at least seven lifetimes ago. And don't even get me started on the rest of the year, epochs gone by. The reverberating message of the past six months has been "it's like you never left," as though thirteen months of my life, from June 2008 to July 2009 were a fugue, or a coma dream. Like an Alzheimer's patient, those memories of time past seem much more vivid than anything I can recollect over the last six which has been a blur of new experience and the muscle memory of going backward but forward in one's life. I did the one thing I shouldn't, and read back over what I had to say in 2009. A lot of depression (expected, it is Livejournal after all); a lot of struggle and conflict within myself. But maybe that's what this has been all about. 2009 was a fragmented year. I fear this is why I don't bother to write much, as I'd easily be pegged with some split-personality disorder. Oh, the amount of entries I have quietly composed in my head but never committed to this text box. Even now, I'm torn over whether to hit "post" at the end here. This year, perhaps beyond all other years of my documented ennui, have I felt so estranged from myself. I don't know how to pinpoint the timing of the change within, or what that change even is exactly. But I feel that maybe I have finally hit my quarter-life crisis, upon which I'm so utterly lost about where I am and what I want, that I have also become ambivalent about who I am. I am on a trajectory, though. One that will continue to propel me into the next decade, at least the early stages thereof. I just need to decide, be it by small and everyday gestures or sweeping dynamic actions, whether this path is the one I stay on and figure out how to patch the fragmentation of the past year. Or whether this new year is tabla rasa, and a complete deviation from the average. Indecisive as always, I'm sure it will take me well into the next several months to make my move. I hope I will be here more often to let you know.

(1 | count every beautiful thing we can see) [23 Dec 2009|01:44pm] keyswinger1990 input. output-put-put-put. spitting slowly, nastiness, girls watching. embarrassment. very stoned, i clear my lips with hands, and wipe, wipe, wipe, on my pants. ------------ i made a gift mix for my parents, constituted entirely of my friends music. the problem of course is that i've listened to hardly any of my friends music. well i think it turned out okay. it also made me think though, what have i done? to be proud of.... i seem to consider my friendships works of art. products of my almost unending ability to resolve disputes and smooth edges. but these masterpieces of people-reading cannot be heard or seen. i like to think that my friends are all affected by me... but there is no way to show this to be true or false. however only on occasion do i hear echoes of what i insert into the world. last night, late drinking, in between friends singing... we discussed where music is. and the particular place our generation has in it. i only spoke a few times. as it is not a subject i have much bearing on. however at the end of the night a friends told me, "i value your opinion, on matters such as these." so, this put me in a trance. and started this whole line of thinking... also that comic book i read... I don't know what he meant. i suppose just what he said. perhaps just what i needed to hear. either way, i seem confronted with the paradox of creativity. i want to create something but friendships fade and unlike recording songs or making art, i am left with nothing to show for it. and so ive forced myself to write again. no longer do my fingers unleash words from my unconscious onto the page. so begrudgingly ive taken to typing. word after word, thought after thought, imperfections

(count every beautiful thing we can see) [22 Dec 2009|04:45pm] keyswinger1990 here it is, another blank page punched into submission. its been five days since i came back from college and my stepmom thinks i should look for work. i don't want to to mention how long she was without one,a job that is. i also at this moment remember how my mother claims that my fathers claims, to be running low on work and cash, are bullshit and he's holding out. not sure of either side of the equation i again am forced to be tolerant and patient. i sleep on a pullout couch if i sleep here at all. and somehow my father and stepmother find things to complain about. it seems as if my vacation at school has done nothing but whet their appetite for my absence. so when my vacation from school comes about for them it is another factor of distress, they think: look at this bum. we pay for him to go to an expensive school and here he just sits around all day. this sitting around, for me, is waiting for friends to be free or for there to be somewhere else to be. because its cold outside, and my stepmom bought me boots but... they hurt when i walk and and well... anyways. my mom has sold her house and she has managed to do most of the work without me. as usual she would like me to add. and every time i contact her she tells me not to worry and then proceeds to complain about having to do it on her own. like an angel upset that she has to mend her own wing. my ex-neighbor who has twin boys all by herself is going away for the holidays. so i have agreed to cat-sit for her, which for some reason entails taking care of the boiler which i have no understanding of.... but in trying to schedule the days of my service i, foolishly, try to pin down my mothers plans. which seem to be constantly up in the air and have been for the past 7 years. i call and of course she has nothing of help to say to me save that it is my grandmothers(in argentina) birthday and that i should buy a long distance card and call her. i pause...... because this is a hassle. especially since i can barely understand what my grandmother is saying when i am with her. and because i usually need my mom to translate anyways. so the pause is heard. and my mom jumps down my throat as if to catch my ever retreating sense of responsibility. and just as she's about to yank the tongue from my mouth.... i bring up that i have no money. which is very close to the truth. because the last 20 dollars i had internally chosen about, 20 minutes before, to save for a show about the silk road at the natural history museum which i will go to with... my friend's girlfriend, who i cant seem to erase my feelings for and who lives very close to the museum. she is in crutches because of a recent surgery. and expressed boredom. perhaps for her, and perhaps for myself, i decided this to be a worthy cause for the ticket cost. so my stepmom wants me to work. tomorrow i have a rehearsal for an art piece at the guggenheim that i am a part of. my father, an artist, somehow disapproves of this move, which to me, despite his rational explanations, is completely inexplicable. and so my mom after hearing me tell her that i have no work, asks if my father has given me anything and i, ever the entrepreneur, mention that he thinks i should get a job. my mom swallows this distasteful explanation and promises, as i asked her, not to talk to him about it. of course this is half a lie, because my father only agrees with my step-mom 2/3's of the time, this doesn't change the fact, however, that, my stepmom wants me to work.

(count every beautiful thing we can see) [16 Dec 2009|01:36am] sandandthestars you are very drunk and very sweet i will take off your jacket and take off your boots and cover you in a grandma's rainbow knittings turn off all the lamps and let you sleep

(count every beautiful thing we can see) [15 Dec 2009|03:35pm] sandandthestars you are very difficult to live with most of the time.

(2 | count every beautiful thing we can see) [14 Dec 2009|12:29am] sandandthestars one of these days I will pounce you

navigation [ viewing | most recent entries ]