enjoy some tunes while you guzzle down all this emo content

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

you can see the shape of the fist in the wall 
and the twist of your wrist in my hair that's your call 
how can I not respond 
how can I not try to touch you 
when all you want is the silence of the highway jump 
when all you want is no response 
when all you want is get the fuck off
after the pulling pushing difference 

I have to remind you it's a meeting 
the door is open 
how you shove and show 




you can see the fists that you fit between the frames that we fixed on this old dirty name 
what could we have done 
how do we stop it 

donotdie
do not die 
donut die 

(( why can't you write 
why does everything feel permanent when it's typed 
why can't you say here ! it is ! I called it now ! and how ! 
it's time to die and die and die ))


it kills that sound and you can't with that sound and you can't begin 

how they sit and try but it's pretend 

Thursday, August 04, 2016

travel dream

impossible spaces/portals like subway platforms, train stations, airports, a pointed tower and a sometimes bar in the middle of the ocean

family is flying away to Japan with all the little dogs In a bag. irie hops out at the gate and poops on the floor. jangly and colorful.
is this where I run into emy? she will become my sidekick through the travels
I think we're even playing Pokemon?!

I know we end up at this impossible bar in the middle of the ocean that only sometimes exists. we drink to get drunk and somehow make it home (a water train??) where we proceed to make out in the bushes. a lot. super hot. this part is a real blur but not a short one.
I think even there's more... I remember a diner where emy is blurring into Bekka.

later I realize I left something at the bar and I'm trying to get back. I'm trying to find Thursday but his phone goes straight to voicemail. I'm standing on a tiny open platform, atop a tall tower, in the middle of the ocean. I have a card in my hand and I open it. it's blue with bubbly wavy letters. at the bottom you can scroll through different music options (classical, soothing) which are paired with different flowers. I play with this for a moment before I realize this is some sort of death letter. an official notice from his employers (military??) that thursday is drowned and gone. I refuse to believe it. surely he just dropped his phone in the ocean and that's why I can't find him. why no one can find him. I'm not giving up.

I get a phone call and now in my head it sounds like mike's voice but I think it was supposed to be emy. or maybe mike is relaying the message for her?? I'm asking how I can see her, contact info or something. I hear him saying "too indie" and I start to spell it back, oh this is her email address? you're saying i-n-d-I-E? "no you are too Indy, I-n-d-y." I'm crushed.

back to business or this may be another dream after the car woke me up. thursday? someone drinks my sun tea prematurely. I was making plain and some other weird infusion thing that was gonna mix in. I'm frustrated.

Thursday, July 28, 2016

thursday dream

wandering around some huge downtown. offered a free meal, it's this huge media blitz, ads everywhere and staff with matching t shirts and smiles pushing paper to everyone on the street. but why not? we have to go through a series of "interactive challenges" to get to the food. for one, we enter a room where the door is blocked by an undulating human chain of smiley staffers. in order to pass you have to wriggle under arms or squeeze through an ever changing gap between two sections of bodies. it's not comfortable. it's meant to be "engaging" but it's just embarrassing.
there are not very many people here and the ones participating are all young & affluent. I try to imagine an actually needy/hungry person here and it seems impossible.

did we ever get the free food? I hope so, after all that.

I remember being in a long line and we were just a couple people behind your ex (who was actually Regina). you did not want her to spot us. her portion of the line got on an elevator and you made sure we weren't on it. what's so scary, I wonder?

we're in some sort of museum when i find my vibrator in my pocket and you find it quite amusing. of course you turn it on and embarrass me with the noise. it gets stuck and I have to unscrew the cap to make it stop.

we run into Marti from work, and her daughter, who want to sit down and chat. we are on a roof looking over onto a falls. there are stone circle table and stools at the corners of the roof, hanging out over the edge. I step carefully out from step to step, terrified of the drop. but Marti's young daughter barrels out and I realize there is a platform below the stone steps as well. of course there is, I think, they wouldn't want people sitting anywhere dangerous. we talk and when I turn around again I realize we aren't on a roof at all, but solid ground. perception

we are tagging along with some crowd, some friends maybe you ran into. I don't mind until I hear you making plans without me. it's not that I don't want to go swimming at twin oaks this afternoon, but that you commit without checking in. maybe this is just my pride, a clutching at still having sovereignty over myself. whatever it is I still want to go swimming.


lots more but I forget. 

Monday, July 04, 2016

I don't know how to be in a relationship in which I am consistently questioned, mistrusted. 
I don't want to be constantly on the defensive. 
earlier tonight you knelt down to look me in the eye, to say you would take care of me, and I believed it so fully, I thought, has anyone ever loved me this much? wanted to take care of me so fully and earnestly? 
but then you got distracted, it's okay, so do I. and then instead of finding promised food, you questioned my fidelity, all over an empty jam jar. how can I possibly respond?? if you can't trust my actions OR my words, where does that leave me?
I've told you: I want you. I love you. you're sexy. I'm not interested in anyone else. I'm not seeking anyone's attention but yours. you're so good at just being you, you don't have to be anything else. 
I just spend the last 30 hours rescuing you from south Virginia. I don't know how else to prove any of it. I'm exhausted. 

is it the alcohol? what makes your brain go there? I wish you would believe me but maybe you can't and if that's the case maybe you don't need me in your life in this capacity. I'm not done, but I'm done with either of us feeling so bad.

Sunday, June 26, 2016

happy 15th birthday, bloggy!

Sunday, June 19, 2016

worst morning

  • cat food on the people plates 
  • someone drank my beer 
  • people tried to change meeting to 7 
  • deuce tells me that unexpected visitor is about to arrive 
  • new can of oogles 
  • cats in the warehouse 
  • Ken doesn't take responsibility when I question oogles in kitchen re: cats
  • later cats are still there. Ken did not talk to them as promised so I have to. 
  • thursday says some anti feminist shit 
  • my room is full of flies 
  • bes brings piglet info pickle house and panics Gracie Lou 
  • dan didn't put gas in my car or tell me that the window is fuxked up 
  • rushing to go to work
  • getting gas takes forever 
  • it's hot as fuck 
  • what am I doing here 
  • where do I belong

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

library life

after a weekend of cooking my brain and losing my mind and crushing my body, i was terrified and panicked to start my new job. even at the library! even though i should've felt perfect, i was in a panic after not having had a "real" job for years (ever??)

last night i could hardly sleep, and when i did, i was woken up over and over by my nightmares -- sexual violence and terror and mundane garbage. in the last dream, around 6am, i had to get to work but i was stuck in south boston with thursday and time kept moving and we kept not catching each other to come back to baltimore.

but despite the lack of sleep, i felt motivated and capable all morning. in the shower, i realized i'd been humming "polly, put your kettle on," my literal get-it-done theme song back in austin. i knew i could do it all! i immediately put on some coffee, put together my outfit, and put my diva cup in a pot to boil WHICH I HAVEN'T USED IN A YEAR because i haven't cleaned it. what!!!!

i left the house an hour before my shift to pop into artifact for an egg-cheese-mushroom muffin and, let's face it, a soy latte. despite being there much longer than anticipated, i didn't feel too rushed on the half-hour commute and even though i'd never been there, i didn't feel too stressed about driving across baltimore. these skinny bumpy streets confuse me but somehow i'm learning just by being a passenger. my learning style is observation sponge, and even i don't know it's working till way down the road.



SO. revelations:

  • libraries are always going to be comfortable, no matter what.
  • librarians are awkward turtles and i don't have to be scared of them.
  • i thrive in a service position!
  • i love to help people!
  • helping people makes me love people!
  • i am capable of being confident!
  • i believe i can accomplish things that regular people can. (fix my car, fix my life.)
  • i believe i can still retain my sense of self and my weirdness while working a "normal" job.
  • i think i can also stop smoking! i can! or at least cut way down.






Monday, May 09, 2016

what do i remember about that night???? chris was flirting with me. maybe we had already started snuggling..... i know we had at least been talking/hanging out on the couch in pickle house. 

were we going somewhere? cel came upstairs and we were standing in a little circle by the fridge. 
or did i get up and come back to find the two of them talking?

i remember asking if we woke him up, apologizing. i think it was the next day, he said he couldn't sleep "with a fire under his ass" and a suggestive sort of look.  what could that mean? i didn't ask.

today he's whispering so ken won't hear about a previous "arrangement" he had with chris. something to do with education. sounds like something to do with sex, if i'm reading his implications correctly.  

he also says chris wanted me and him to get closer and that he was trying to bring us together. 
so you're saying he's fucking me to get us to be friends??
and you're saying that chris placed us here on purpose, to 


okay i don't buy it. 

okay i think he really likes me and i don't really know what to do with that. 

i can't get over the idea that he's making it up for some reason. but he told mike he was terrified and excited, he wouldn't say that to someone if i'm not there. to a dude!! and he told FOUR dudes today that i'm an awesome lady (or something, i guess i'll find out exactly what i am when the audio recordings roll in). 



i don't quite know what i'm doing but i don't quite mind. these last two weeks (good lord, three???) have been a blur, a dream. i don't know where we're going and i think i'm okay with that.  
that's not altogether true. i know you're going to south boston, virginia, any damn minute now. and where will be then? you want me to come with you, at least you say you do, at least for part of the time. i can't imagine what this will look like, so i haven't said yes or no. i'm still curious. i still want to see what happens after brett gets here, what we will look like then, and if you are still interested when we're not fucking every couple nights. 

you said:
you want to help me build my space. 
you want to be as honest and open as possible. the experiment is on and for yourself. 
you want to know a good thing.
i can calm you down and descalate you from getting angry, violent. 
i make you feel comfortable in your body.
i make you feel human. 

you said a great many things i can't recall. 


i believe we could do great things. i want to make magic with you. i want to build it better. 

i'm still scared. i'm scared you might be trying to fuck me over, or just get something from me. (what's left? i'm not sure.)
i'm scared that i'm hitting you hard, like wild turkey, and i'm drunk with the right-now good, dreading the ambiguous future. i'm scared i don't know you. (isn't that the point of this, though?)
i'm scared of your massive past, the violence, the drugs, the women. 

your reaction tonight when i told you about cel, about what i thought he was implying, was huge, terrifying. you wanted to hurt him, our poor friend. somehow i calmed you down for now, promising i would talk to him tomorrow before you're back in town... but i don't know how we're going to endure a 4 hour car ride with him for the wedding this weekend, let alone share a tent. i feel terrible. what have i accused him of? what do i know? now i have to have an impossible conversation (is it?) to find out if he's listening to our sex and listening on purpose. the attempt will be better than your proposals. 
i don't understand reacting like that but somehow it doesn't disturb me like it does in other people, or maybe like it would have in the past. why?? maybe i think you're all talk. (not really true.) 


i have a strong desire to record your stories, to pin you down and hold you before you unravel all around me.

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

this family has known from day one that I didn't belong here. why not own it and go full creature ?

the others send me no smoking signs. the phone getting stolen was big. here another, the whole pack of smokes I lost was found, returned, I was joyous until I found them all broken and wet and it's just like me and how much does it take for me to know a metaphor? 

how I find it so hard to speak in this language. how nothing nothing nothing makes sense. 

Thursday, April 21, 2016

we like each other's shapes

we drank half a 30 rack and we smoked more than half a pack of cigarettes between the liquor store walk at 10pm and the sun coming up at 7am before we crashed to the mattress on the floor and took our clothes off, for the second time, i think?
we sat on the bench where we'd been painting boards for the bedroom trim and i was wallowing and you held me and told me you wanted to help and nuzzled my head until our lips found each other. 
(what was the moment in which this became inevitable? the last beer, or the first? meeting eyes in the kitchen and feeling seen? the night you don't remember, when i tickled you to capture your nonexistent keys?)
i don't remember what came next. chainsmoking and natty bo in my unfinished new room, top floor of middle house, sitting on the roof to watch dawn creep over the highway, wearing only jeans and a hoodie. i don't remember when my shirt came off.
we were too many beers in to be doing what we did. we crashed to the mattress on the floor tangled tickling kissing and i fell into a dream, walking to a job interview at the neighborhood grocery. to apply i had to get fingered. your hard soft body naked on top of mine, the sweetness of skin on skin, how we ache for this dance. suddenly your soft hard cock inside. i wanted it but i hadn't said so, i wasn't ready and no protection. (you're lovely but i don't want your babies or infections.) what is wrong with me that i can't stop, can't say anything? why has this become my pattern? caught in drunken jumbles, wanting without knowing why, not having the courage to speak.

they have said: cmon. please. you're nothing special. just hold still. shhh.
and they have said nothing as they put themselves inside me.
and they have said how much they missed me, how they love my squishy body, i'm not like the other girls, i'm good enough, i deserve it.

my heart races to write it. as much as i'm disgusted and furious with myself, i'm still turned on. and i want and i want and i want and i like you but i don't like our culture. i don't like the roles we're playing or the confused consent. i want to break myself apart to see how my sexuality was formed around my passiveness and i want to start over.

Monday, April 11, 2016

​i admire people who are doing things all the time. i am jealous of people accomplishing a lot.
i need to plan my week better, set goals for the days ahead. it's helping a little to have the day before planned out, but i'm still not getting enough done. filling the time with the tasks and all that.
i need to dream bigger although i'm not sure what that looks like.
and it's hard right now, being unemployed. i feel useless! like i have all this time and i'm just wasting it or worrying it away over someone else's agenda. THAT SUCKS.

katherine just sent me an idea to make reenactment videos to start promoting concrete again. i read the idea and my first thought was "what will brett think?"
how warped has my brain gotten that i can't make up my own mind?
and just today i was reading an old chat conversation i was having with tom about how arrogant and controlling brett was on set, and in general.
and another conversation where katherine and i were miserable, wracking our brains to figure out what the hell the story even meant, and what were we saying, and how did we do this to ourselves.
i need to think more before i say yes to katherine's idea, but i mean. why not? we've done all this other mess. and i was literally just sitting here feeling sad that i'm not producing anything.

Thursday, March 31, 2016

falling down dream

lots of falling or almost falling
catching myself and climbing, pulling myself up

Brandon with tattoos
except its a whole little cage of Simpsons figurines, with little teal stars dangling between some
don't they fall? no

I've taken a whole fridge. something important in it

Luke and curtis picking pig to Slaughter

apa senior cat arellia
I somehow diagnose her cant tell if anyone is listening to me
doxy bubble between her eyes
we nearly lose her somehow
is that how I start tumbling down the mountain?
at first on the road, sliding like a too fast car
but shooting off like a black star towards the white sky
and down crashing through the trees fill I catch a branch
watch a raccoon pursue a precarious route up the cliff and follow suit

Land day I'm in giant auditorium
I've already pissed off one girl
these two looked almost ljke twins but they were lovers, hair dyed black with red streaks
they're mc for this part of the show but they just start making out and dry jumping
or is this the show?
I try to find a seat, it's unusually quiet as people focus on the show
I'm trying so hard to be silent I lose my balance on the narrow ledge between seats and slip off, but manage to grab hold of the edge before falling 100 feet
I am thinking there's no way I can do this. didn't anyone see me? will they help? but I don't dare shout
somehow I get my leg hooked over and scramble back up
there's chris, high as hell, "oh hey what's up alanna"
there are plenty of empty seats around him
he's sitting with another man with a grease vulture look

she's mad at me but I don't know why
she's making fun of my fall and how I squealed so loud, but a little too late, how obviously fake. I say "I didn't!" then "did I?" and honestly I don't know
I thought I helped her earlier, maybe her pride is sore
I realize too late I should have teased her right back and she would've left me alone

Sybil lamb is mc or she's something, auctioning off someone to fuck
bids start at $5 "bc she's horny!"
I missed part of this somehow bc I'm trying to ask syb clarifying questions while counting my pile of money on the arm rest.
"so the person with the most $ wins? or is it just who she likes the best?"
I'm confused bc it seems ljke everyone just put down $20
and this is a fundraiser after all
Sybil thinks I'm silly but takes my money anyway -- not all $142 but some.

the girl in glitter green with wide eyes and dark bangs and high pony
talking about the grease culture
he's obsessed with her ass
it was novel, fun at first but she's bored now
not him he's obsessed
(an image of him fuxking her against a baby crib)

Tuesday, March 29, 2016

fuck it all.
you are supposed to be an artist.
you are meant to do it and you know that.
quit comparing yourself to other people.
quit trying to figure out where you fucked up.
just DO.
you gotta start reading more first and taking it all in.
you gotta start practicing writing. that 3 pages a day thing. just go wild.
you gotta start carrying around a notebook.
and probably actually leaving the house so that you can get out of your own stupid thought cycle.
maybe practice with an adaptation. turn a book into a play. or write a dream into a short story.

Sunday, February 21, 2016

while working on the concrete site

this old stuff has me cracking up! I want to be funny again. I think I have it in me somewhere. 
all these little plans. I need to dream big again. 
I want to make magic!
I'm so sad I didn't go to the earth first workshop. I want to find a way to create things. it's important! 

I'm excited for my pen pal project. I need to write some emails. that will be a start of something.

Friday, February 05, 2016

it's shocking how boring you are.