|
[29 Dec 2009|02:58am] |
Some Things I'd like to see break:
count the cracks and crack a smile
at all the mama's broken backs
I miss the gore I yanked from my guts
longing for some sort of relapse
Into broken lines of coherent thought
pictures you thougt you'd never tear up
of yourself, awkward and brooding
a carousel whirl on the cusp
of something shattered
Like the window in the old red car
the philosopher keeps in his backyard
still held together with metallic tape
against the weather, And the far
side of the moon is only
black crepe, in a black plastic box
in your father's garage...
Now
Boot heels, tap tap against a new wooden floor,
And
knuckles, rap rap on the back paned glass door
Le pen,
She runs dry, at inopportune times,
Le brain,
She runs dry, inobedient, of rhymes,
approximate or otherwise.
|
|
| further observations: |
[21 Dec 2009|04:26am] |
while i used to believe i was an unusually open-minded and self-aware individual, i find there are actually a couple areas i'm quite jaded, by the realization of a couple long-held (or comparatively long held, i guess, a decade isn't that long for someone who's twice or thrice my age, but still) truths i find universal:
never believe anything you read in the news.
never believe anything someone tells you in bed (or while trying to get you there).
i waxed philosophical on both these issues while preparing the hotel breakfast this morning, and while i could go on and on and on, i pared it down to the above two statements, realizing they pretty much do their own explaining.
|
|
| observations. |
[21 Dec 2009|02:28am] |
While I admit, I have trouble “thinking outside the box” as the saying goes, I think I got a different box than most did. I’m still trying to figure out if this is an advantage or a hindrance.
Irrational, illogical, nonsensical, and fragile (women).
TOTAL PLACEBO EFFECT (me).
|
|
|
[19 Dec 2009|10:03pm] |
In deciding whether to buy a diet pepsi here (at the answering service) or a diet coke @ the hotel, i did the math and discovered I'd be paying 5 cents extra for the convenience of a bottle w/ a cap (the coke) ~ at 70 cents a can the diet pepsi equals .053$ an ounce...oh, wait, have I done my math wrong? Maybe. The diet coke is $.0625 an ounce. Nevermind, yes, .19$ extra for the convenience of a bottle and a cap. I think my budget can stand it, 'cause while even though pop in a can tastes better, I rarely finish a pop in a can, but almost always finish a pop in a bottle ~ more transportable.
You think this much idle brain space means I need a job that makes me work a little harder?
Nah.
|
|
|
[13 Dec 2009|06:00pm] |
It's disgusting out. There's white shit everywhere. I hate snow.
It's not that I hate snow in and of itself it's just that... Ok, I hate snow. I hate almost everything about it. I hate the way it's cold, I hate the way it's wet, I hate the way no one inthe western half of Washington state can drive in this shit, including myself, and therefore I hate the way it screws my life up, because I live 30 miles of interstate away from my places of employment and I would like to go home between 17 hour stretches of work without risking death and/or dismemberment, please. On the other hand, if I could shake away all these things, I would enjoy it. I like the way it makes everything seem so quiet, muffled ~ white noise. If it weren't ruined by the stress of getting from here to there, I'd be quite content with the snowfall. In the right place, in the right time, it feels like the world's stopped for just a moment when it's covered in snow, and under the cover of a fur-lined hood, scrunching beneath thick-soled boots, or looking out from inside with a hot cup of something, it makes me feel quiet and content in a way not a lot of other things can.
|
|
| unconsoled |
[13 Dec 2009|04:51am] |
10 hours ago...
forgot how satisfying libraries are. come out w/ two dozen books i might read but probably won't...literary gluttony.
now:
Irreverence is the key to a stress-free existence.
A sense of humor is paramount, along with the ability to say "shoo fly" (don't bother me).
When you reach the point of not giving a shit, you'll no longer care about reaching that point.
There is absolutely nothing wrong w/ being shallow. It's a comfortable place to be ~ little chance of drowning unless you're an infant or a retard. why do you think so many people wade on that end of the pool, so to say?
|
|
|
[01 Dec 2009|03:03am] |
i keep starting journal entries and never finishing, trying to explain the past couple months of my life to myself, concise and literary...
it doesn't work. i'm contemplating new jeans and new boots, i'm striving towards sexy, not dwelling on the past like i used to.
maybe because, this life quake around, the present looks better than the past, not the other way, like it always used to. probably this is positive. it does shit for writing though.
instead, i shall post a short story pieced together from bits i formed into a semi-coherent flow:
( Killing Time )
|
|
|
[21 Nov 2009|08:25am] |
i just bit into a kit kat w/ no wafer. they forgot it. it totally threw me.
and that's my event for the day.
|
|
| 9 YEARS AND 10 MONTHS LATER... |
[17 Nov 2009|10:08pm] |
my very first lj entry was one of those self questionnaire things. i've just filled it out again. there are *s by the answers that i didn't feel the need to change. for some reason, i thought there would be less of those. i guess it goes to show the old saying is true, that the more things change, the more things stay the same...
( and on and on and on and on and on: )
|
|
|
[15 Nov 2009|02:55am] |
It's so autumnal just now. The wind is cutting, the trees are russet, and the air smells clean.
The point of that last entry was that I need to write my life down, but for the past five years I've been saying that and I haven't. I think I'm not in love with myself anymore. Back in the day, even at my most fucked up, I still knew I was the greatest, with potential to be mroe. Now I'm sure I'm not, and the potential's gone. I still like my face, I still like my handwriting, but now I know there's nothing more and the urge to chronicle it all is gone. No need for a written record of this life, it's not going anywhere, and certainly not important. Sometimes I wake up thinking "hate hate hate..." saying the word over and over like a mantra in my head, barrelling down Hwy 3...
What does that even mean?
What the fuck am I doing here?
I feel like I'm suddenly waking up and the past few years have been a weird dream. Where did I go?
You know what? I've got to get myself out of my head.
|
|
|
[14 Nov 2009|02:36pm] |
|
In order to figure out the approximate time period spring break generally occurs at a quarter system university (rather than semester) I was reading back over my journal from 2002. I used to write a lot more bad poetry than I remember. and my life was a lot more interesting then than I remember now. There were occurrances and events written there I'd totally forgotten about. It make sme wonder how much I've lost, these past five years, by not writing on a regular basis. I think I'm going to have to make myself start writing again. There are old friends there I no longer see, but reading back, I realize I never entirely lost them, because I still have them on record. I want to be able to remember my friends now.
|
|
|
[03 Oct 2009|06:25am] |
|
i feel some bad poetry coming on.
|
|
|
[22 Sep 2009|03:04am] |
yesterday was the last day of the year that was a good year to die.
happy new year to me.
|
|
| brand new and coheed and cambria @ the puyallup fair. |
[17 Sep 2009|08:45am] |
Re Brand New:
I'm not one of those people who keeps track of set lists. I can tell you they opened w/ 3 #s from Deja Entendu including "i believe you but my tommy gun don't" and "sic transit gloria...glory fades" ~ I know they also played a rather good "jaws theme swimming," ended w/ "hangman" (i think. either way, that one was excellent) played "into the sun" and "jesus christ" and "degausser" (sort of halfassed) somewhere in the middle, w/ a rendition of "gasoline" from "daisy" which comes out in five days (the day after my birthday) (thank you very much). Perhaps I'm not the best judge of things, but the entire set seemed to seethe w/ an air of pentup frustration, a sense of "what are we doing here?" At one poing, Lacey made a comment about having been a band for 10 years. it seemed laced w/ quite a bit of "what the fuck?"
Partly it could have been the venue. they opened for Coheed and Cambria, and while quite a few people were there for Brand New (you could tell which ones by the way they dressed, which really was part of the problem ~ the fans still dress like the band used to sound, and the band no longer sounds like poppy punky emo), the majority, it seemed, were only marking time for the main event, which like their prog-rock predecessors, seem self-designed for arena rock, huge crowds of teens spanning into adults up and through middle age waving fists and shouting out lyrics like gospel. Brand New just doesn't translate into a grandstand concert affair. At this point in their career, they're crying out for a small venue, slightly seedy, at which they can feed their raunchy depression into the crowd @ screaming volumes and whip it into the frenzy they (fans, band alike) deserve. For some reason, last night they remineded me of Nirvana, and it wasn't just Jesse Lacey's plaid shirt or Garrett Tierney smashing his bass at the end (I'm not sure what that was in aid of ~ that didn't translate well either, or maybe fast approaching 28, I just don't get it anymore. Sure, he seemed to be having troubles w/ it towards the end of the set, but that's no reason to destroy the poor thing. I suppose I'm just not rock enough).
The token three from Deja Entendu were merely lip service to fans the band weren't sure they had, it felt like, a "let's just get this over with" ~ bass line and drums the only solidly recognizable parts to each, unless you know the words by heart. Jesse and Vin just seemed pissed off. Maybe it was the rain. It rained all day and i was damp and annoyed too. Maybe they were annoyed as well at having to pay homage to the songs that cemented their fan base six years ago, but that they've long grown out of ~ the angsty-pretty-melodic of an emo band too talented to be what they were. Probably, they've just translated the songs into today. I don't know. I'm not them. Now, they simply rock.
There is a three year old babbling in my ear and I'v lost my train of thought.
Coheed and Cambria was good. they seemed a lot happier to be there. I cut out in the middle of the encore because I knew I was gonna get lost trying to find the highway.
I'm still glad I went. How often does a girl get to see such vastly different bands, who happen to be two of her favorite bands still actually playing today, on the same night? who cares if Brand New was reluctant? I still thought they rocked. Probably they can't help it.
Happy Birthday to meeee :)
|
|
| the placebo affect |
[08 Sep 2009|09:09pm] |
i am very drunk.
usually, i am not at all drunk off five beers and one shot of tequila.
however, i haven't slept in 36 hours.
for fun, i poured a hornsby's green apple into an empty bottle of my henry weinhard's belgian style wheat ale.
i am notorious for hating sweet alcoholic drinks. when i get henrys, i usually mix them all up so i have one of every six types in the six pax carton.
i decided to play a trick
both my roommates hate real beer.
they drink the bitch beer.
so i pour'd a bitch beer into my empty summer wheat bottle.
rick, of course, asked to try it.
every time he tastes beer, he remarks upon how horrid the taste is.
this time, he said it was surprisingly sweet, and was surprised i was drinking it, and how delicious it was. i was afraid he was going to keep the bottle.
pixie tried it, and said the same.
neither recognized it as the same thing they've each had 3-4 bottles of this evening.
their tastebuds are faulty, or the placebo affect is more powerful than i thought.
|
|
| babushka |
[06 Sep 2009|12:40am] |
12:22 am
I'm spending time w/ a crazy woman. She has some sort of laughing disorder. She keeps asking me to look up names in the phone book for her. They all live around Yelm and Rainier. One was JZ Knight. Another was James Flick. I told her I didn't think we'd find residential listings for these people, but I found her business numbers. The other names come up blank so I assume they're all ramthaites or something of the sort.
And she's just standing her, tapping her business cards around laughing, clutching the desk when she laughs too hard so she doesn't fall over. Then she rolls her eyes and nearly falls over laughing again. Op, she just said "thank you you are very kind." Smiled, nodded like a regular person, walked over to the house phone.
Wow.
Nice to be kind.
She has some sort of east european accent maybe. She's average height, slightly dumpy, maybe mid-50s, early 60s, I don't know. I'm bad at judging age. Her face is round and coarse ~ one of those manly women, though not unhandsome, her hair very dark and streaked with gray. When she laughs, though, her cheeks screw up into a series of vertical lines at ugly odds with the horizontal slits of her eyes.
She started to freak me out a little earlier, when she was watching a sermon on public access tv, and started laughing hysterically, LOUDLY. because of the accoustics where the tv is in the lobby, it echoed all around and sounded like two and three people at a time, indulging in riotous laughter while some, oh, i don't know, scholar, reverend, someone preached through the tv screen about how god isn't crazy about theocracies ~ oop, no, he clarified that point later. God isn't crazy about kingships. After he clarified the point he just screwed up his whole premis, though, and while I was beginnign to think he was a sensible man (usually those public access preachers drive me nuts, i'm just not a fire and brimstone kind of girl) i begun to think he was just pandering to the left wing after that. this is why i love jerry fallwell, he doesn't pander, and doesn't care if people know he's a nut job.
the crazy woman is laughing to herself again over in the corner where the gm keeps her business cards, writing more names for me to look up i expect. ms gm's gonna be mystified. where did all her brand new business cards go so quickly? but i'm not inclined to stop babushka, she's amusing me.
I wonder if Ramtha did her wrong, or if she thinks he can do her right.
When it comes to religion, even crazier factions, I can't help but give almost any and all the benefit of the doubt. I mean, as a girl who was raised to believe three kings followed a star to a baby cross country who was a son of god and who grew up to raise people from the dead and then rise from the dead himself, who was told as a child that an entire culture followed a pillar of fire through the desert for forty years and lived on food that fell from the sky every morning ~ well, even when it comes to the looniest, who can quibble with a background like that?
However, at age 22 or so, I read JZ Knights biography, and even straight from the horse's mouth, as they say, came away w/ the impression her story was complete fabrication.
Oh man, the laughing's getting loud again. She really does sound manic. She seems to have a room key though. I hope it's really hers.
At some point I'm gonna have to stop this, because our internet's bogged down by the guys who work at the gas station and have hacked into the wireless, and actually get to work. I wonder if she'll say i'm very kind then.
|
|
|
[15 Aug 2009|05:26pm] |
|
There's a popular tattoo, where a little girl shoots herself in the temple with a handgun, and butterflies are coming out the other side. If that were me, right now, I think there would be toads coming out ~ fat, croaking toads. There's a racket in my skull and they're jumping against the walls to get out, and I think one of them is digging a tunnel through my sinuses.
|
|
|
[11 Aug 2009|04:14am] |
I've got this seger medley stuck in my head...i can't sort one tune and lyrics from another...
"working on the night moves, deadlines and commitments, against the wind, still running against the wind, we're older now, but still give me the beat boys and free my soul, i wanna get lost in your rock, like a rock, humming a song from 1962 to drift away..."
oh the torture.
|
|
| you know you work to much when... |
[10 Aug 2009|01:11am] |
|
chopping vegetables in the kitchen, rick asked me to get an onion for him. because i was putting a load of clothes in the wash at that very moment, i asked him to hold, please.
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
amandagayle's journal