Woke up in de-tox last night. Really not pleasant to find yourself on the floor with a woman passed out on a table another passed out on the floor in the back, and another, face down passed out on the floor across the room from you.

I don't like where this story is, I dono't like that it's about me.
I don't think I am going to drink for a while.
I keep telling people I think I have a problem, and they keep handing me drinks.

This needs to stop. I need to develop some new brain cells and get back into the world.

I don't think I can do this blog anymore.

Use only titles from one artist

I'm too embarrassed to post this on facebook so I did here. Kind of entertaining, maybe?

Pick Your Artist:
Destroyer

Are you a male or female?
Madame Butterflies

Describe yourself:
A Dangerous Woman Up To A Point

How do you feel:
Beggars Might Ride

Describe where you currently live:
A Month In The Country

If you could go anywhere, where would you go:
In Dreams

Your favorite form of transportation:
To the Heart of the Sun on the Back of the Vulture, I'll Go

Your best friend is:
Melanie and Jennifer and Melanie

Your favorite color is:
European Oils

What's the weather like:
Why Banacek Doesn't Love

Favorite time of day:
The Space Race

If your life was a T.V. show, what would it be called:
Certain Things You Ought To Know

What is life to you:
Rubies

Your relationships-
Last: I Want This Cyclops
Looking for: Mad Foxes
Have: Bay of Pigs
Wouldn’t mind: Loves of a Gnostic

Your fear:
Goddess of Drought

What is the best advice you have to give:
Don't Become The Thing You Hated

If you could change your name, you would change it to:
J. Tailor

Thought for the Day:
Self Portrait With Thing (Tonight Is Not Your Night)

How I would like to die:
Death on the Festival Circuit

My soul's present condition:
Virgin With a Memory

My motto:
Knowing When To Leave (Slang Mix)

I really really want to organize a funds raising event to help with Epidermolysis Bullosa. I also really want to help children with special needs. I need to start getting involved more with real things, and making an active effort to make others lives better. Why sit around feeling bad about being lucky, when I can be lucky enough to help others? I just really am sick of living so selfishly. It's just getting old expecting to receive instead of just giving without any expectation at all. My new goal is to be an all around giving person. If I wasn't before, it starts now.

Excerpt from: Off the Map

"So why are you traveling like this?" Michel asked, as we disentangled our packs from his bicycle wheels at a ghosted gas station. He knew they were all we had, smaller than those of most travelers, and as we strapped them onto our dirty hips our scrappy pads belied the nature of our sleeping quarters. He handed us each an apple from the crate.
"Have you ever read Huck Finn?" I asked him
Michel nodded, smiling.
"Well, when we were young, we read all those books, looking for girls in their pages," I told him. "But we couldn't find anything. We don't want to be the boring girls that the boys in adventure stories get crushes on. We wanted to have our own adventure stories.
"So we're gonna make some new pages," I finished, biting through the taut ruby skin and into its sweet blank flesh.

Alberta went to the hippies

I cannot believe how it all ended. With harsh words. Words jumbled between us. Anger and disappointment. Can hardly look at each other. Because we both know we fucked up and fucked over the other.

A new road trip has been set up. Original road trip is back in order, no longer Mickey's Big Adventure. Back to Tovah and Maggie's Big Adventure.


I feel a little empty and as though I have realized I am indeed a schmuck.
Can I give up my parents trust? Do I want to? Do they deserve it? Why do I think of that as fucking up my life. When it could be just beginning my life?

Hawthorne went to the dogs

"Wandered back to Portland, unshaven and soft spoken"

Since downloading this song yesterday I have listened to it over 19 times.

Headed down south to the land of the pines

Forgot about the come down of Molly. two nights of laying in bathtubs in the whee hours of the night.

"Travel buddies"
I keep listening to Wagon Wheel. Heard it this morning around 6 am, was singing along with Mickey in the nest he made in his closet.
Went on a walk soon after and we hardly said a word, but I don't know if anything really needed to be said. We strolled along as the sky filled with clouds. I held a feather I found when we left his house. Made it to my house and we slept until 12 with a few interruptions of embracing.
Afterwards we smoked a cigarette and he left.

Feel a lack of emotion. Suppose it's a lack of Serotonin.

" Rock me mama like the wind and the rain
Rock me mama like a south-bound train
Hey mama rock me"

I have an idea of how to make myself happy, how to act lovingly and how to be positive towards others. Yet I seem unable to balance my emotions with those of others. I tend to hear other peoples feelings and take them as my own. I tend to be over empathetic to the point where I don't even understand where my own emotions correspond into other's feelings. How can I learn to seperate other people's lives amongst my own. How can I not let other drama affect me? How can I say no to people, how can I tell them when I am more concerned with their feelings than my own? I feel like I am so trying to please everyone that I am completely lost, I don't feel very connected to myself anymore, I don't know who I like to spend time with or don't because no matter who it's with it feels like a chore almost. I know I need to change something, I know that I need to fight to keep myself progressing, and to keep myself as myself, but when I am alone I am just as lost, I can't seem to find a balance. I need to be a hermit, and think, write, and plan, but I tend to look for any escape, and I need to learn that in order to become what you want to be or to be where you want to be, you have to move towards it.

Have woken up naked and feeling the hot sun all over my body the past few days.
Sat on the roof last night before I sent to sleep and chain smoked. Someone made me a wand and then left for pittsburgh, and I found the wand on the wall after they left. Mickey and I try to convince Brian to go every night.
I think we are going to get him
I want the fuck out.

Planning trip. Just want to go now. Excited on the prospect of running out of money. Running out of time. kind of want to end up somewhere completely different. I think we are going to make it to New Mexico?

Portland to Knoxville, with Mickey and Brian. Then knoxville for a few days to Ohio to see my Grandparents, Uncle, Aunt parents, Sofie, get rid of my car and head on with Mickey's. Then to Pittsburgh to pick up Neal, then to Milwaukee to see Helen. Then MN to see Alaina and TT. Then down to New Mexico? Up through California? Portland?

All this planning gives me a head ache because I don't know how it's going to work and I keep thinking of all the flaws and my mom is driving me crazy with her worrying. I left her on the phone when I asked about her hitchhiking to Colorado and if she made plans and arrangements before hand and she said, "No but we hitchhiked with truckers, so we could always just sleep in the truck" so I said "On that note mom, I'm ending this conversation about making arrangements. "

It's almost 100 out and I want to walk around completely naked.

Today:
Woke up, brushed teeth, got dressed, smoked a cigarette in the car on the way to painting class. Parked, smoked another cigarette while trying to carry huge art kit across the parking lot. Turned in assignments, toookkkkk so many notes, took a break, Bumped into Ambrosia Rose and smoked a cigarette with her. Went back to class, still frustrated, my painting teacher is annoying and sounds like the boss from Office Space.
Went to pick up my developed film, was expecting to get other pictures, still had to pay 70$, this sucks. I will now always label my film. Went to work, is was only okay, found out Michael Jackson died. Called Maggie to "Ho Ma God!", seriously though, june 25th, 2009 is the day Michael Jackson died. This is terrible. When I think of dancing, I think of Michael Jackson, when I think of music videos I think Michael jackson, good R&B, good ol' 60s music., fatastic 80s, and some alright 90s, awesome weirdness for the past 8 years. God. I'm going to miss that guy.

Tomorrow will be my last day in New York. I tried to go to bed before 1 tonight. Was unsuccessful. laid in bed and felt my whole body pulsating. Telling me to do something say something do jumping jacks, no point in sleep when you have a mind racing with nothing going through it.
have forgotten the bliss of rest and beds. no longer see the need for it. time will be better spent focused on just about anything besides sleep.

this trip has taught me I am not cut out for New York living. cannot keep up with the pace and the hustle. I can perform quite well, and even give directions to the poor tourist that asks if she can pick up the F where you pick up the 1. But when it boils down to it. just need a place to sit for an hour and have a fucking cup of coffee. It takes me an hour to do anything, and by that time a million people have done a million different things, and all I've done is found out which train to take and decided how I'm going to find a coffee shop where I can sit and do nothing. But once I was there I had 10 minutes to sit and eat and then I was gathered up to wander the west side. Even the parks have a hard time feeling lonely. Sitting in a garden, and I thought I was alone with the greens only to spot a brick building in the corner of my eye.
I spent a moment on top of my brother's roof, staring out into the city, clutching a glass and some tobacco wondering what the hell I was doing here. It began to rain, and I began to get dizzy and mad that I was so privileged. My matches got soggy, and I cursed.
My brother spoke of the drive. The NYC drive for success. And how he has caught that, or has always had it. Don't know what to say or how to relate. Big plans Big big plans he says.

My plan is to go back home. sit on my roof .look at the stars. And then find something other than myself to focus on. Perhaps a cup of coffee? Or a beer?

feeling like an outsider...

Have totally fucked up.
Might fail Photo.
Fuck
Fuck
FUCK
I got an A on everything, but then completely didn't do my last project.

What happened in the past three weeks? Where have I been? All I can think about is some guy from Louisiana who gave me an earring with a bone on it, made from a twist-tie. It has infected my ear, but I still wear it. He works on a farm and has slept in parks. Why do I have all these brownies but no desire to eat them? How can I possibly drink 6 + beers all to myself and still remember the night? How did my room get filled with clothes? And how come I haven't worn a different outfit in almost 1 week?

I'm worn out, and cannot think. My brain feels drained and I don't want to eat anything. I want to sit down for a second, but once I have sat, I find myself standing again.
I cannot even read a book, let alone take a nap. Even when I wake up at 4 am and find myself at work by 4:30, I stay up and drink coffee and smoke cigarettes and walk walk walk. I'm going to go to the train yard today, maybe, to attempt my photo project.

Last week I realized I am so done with the IDEA Bohemia, and how can I bring myself to say, "Bohemia is dead," when I feel it every day.

America

I was sitting, fur coat and confident; drinking wine and smoking cigarettes; and talking with my neighbors on the porch around midnight last night.

Slowly others found their way onto the porch, and I found myself on a porch with 8 people. My neighbors left, I sat arguing with the others. They were trying to say that anyone who commits a crime deserves to go to jail. And that prisons don't need any work. That they are better than living on the streets and that people who commit crimes don't deserve comfort. I told them about the women who don't have a job in the prison, and the ones who don't have people sending them money while in the prison, and how somehow they have to come up with the money to buy basic needs like tampons. And if they cannot come up with the money then they have to just deal with it. And this girl said, well is they killed their child they deserve to not have tampons. And I almost cried.

A boy said, "when you one day have a child" and I told him I hoped I never would. He asked if I was mentally okay.

Was told I was filled with hate, and when I said that wasn't so, was then told "No, you are filled with hate"
And I responded that I loved america, but I love it enough to know it still needs and requires change. That if I didn't want improvement, maybe I'd be filled with hate, and not love.

I had to leave around that time.

I had forgotten how good it felt to walk miles in the night time. To smile when you realized there was nothing else to smile about, besides living. A clear sense of who I am, and being okay with that.
Came up feeling a little more human than I had before. Drenched in sweat and shaking.

Tallest Building in Hell

"I hate to say it, but these last few years have been hell."

Check these guys out.
http://www.myspace.com/jaredmees

Its a mixed up muddled up shook up world except for lola

Content with my surroundings. Content with laughter. Content with lots of beer.

Tonight, when I was asked what I've been doing lately, all I could come up with to say was, "I've been drinking beer." And I've got penny lane's jacket to provide the confidence. Cigarettes and Lola.

Twizzlers and beer
Burritos in cars
Fried rice and cars
lighting cigarettes backwards
blonde wigs and sparkle hats
laughing and farts
3 hours late to breakfast and eggrolls
sleep overs and beer
planned parenthood conversations and strangers
chicken snausage and two lovers
wigs and make up
breakfast and farts
bands and under 21 area.

needs a lot of editing

Frankie awoke with that damned leech-kiss resting on her cheek. She rubbed it vigorously, still feeling the wetness against her skin. The thing had been placed right below her cheekbone (closer to the jaw rather than the lips), held for approximately three seconds, and bequeathed to her by MrMiscellaneous -- some boy in a Timberwolves jersey with a Chrome bag (obviously experiencing some identity crisis).

She cringed as she recalled the heat radiating from those revolting lips and that forgettable face so close to her own (what a foreign concept!) and that stupid gaze of admiration. She cringed remembering that disturbingly romantic loss of vision and that short moment between the proposal and the carry-through. She cringed because Jesus! How repulsive, awful, intriguing it was to be so desired!

She had been left with two choices: somehow be flattered and strategically tilt her head towards MrMisc or move on and get the fuck away. She, of course, had decided on the latter and took a final glance at her terrible suitor, imagining the day when she could exclaim (in a markedly refined manner), "O, how blessed I am to have fallen in love!"

FOR CLASS (not done btw)

            In white society, a distinct emphasis is placed on sexuality, I think, but with reason. Sexuality is a base trait in human nature – if a person were to be stripped of everything they’ve learned, they’d still naturally enjoy physical pleasure. With that in mind, there’s much to be said about the roles, constructs, stereotypes, etc that became of something so instinctual and primitive. In this audio genealogy, I will explore the gender-neutral woman, a byproduct of sexuality, but at the same time, an individual who does not embody it…someone I have dubbed “The Cool Girl.”

            The gender-neutral woman is a female who embodies more (societal) masculine traits than female ones, placing her in-between sexes as her body and mannerisms say differently. Since white society has created gender as binary, the gender-natural woman must forgo her body and become a societal male. Masculinity uses its power to make her at once equal and suppressed in the realm of white society. Equal in the sense that masculinity dominates her and allows her the freedom of masculinity (manifested in her access to conversation reserved for societal males and her escape of feminine objectification), and suppressed because of the revocation of her sexuality in white society.

            This sort of woman is deemed “The Cool Girl” because of her status among males. Of course, males understand that she is anatomically a woman – what differentiates her is that her gender becomes invisible. She adopts the mentality reserved for masculinity and in effect, becomes adopted by masculinity and loses the sexuality that is required to objectify women. “The Cool Girl” is cool because she becomes a fellow companion but isn’t viewed as a “girl” necessarily, because a societal woman must be and is sexualized.

A southern gentleman passed my way last night. He was on his way out, biking from Portland to Kentucky. The household called him Brother John and he had a beard to match. He had been traveling for 3 years, hitchhiking across America and told me I was not far off with my idea of New Mexico.

We shared a couch and laughed together. In the morning I left at 7, while everyone was still asleep. Knowing that I'd probably never see him again put a slight smile on my face.

ho ma god. engaged?

I hate it

when people use the ellipsis excessively.

When do you reach the limit between porn and art? How do you make that decision? Can you show art that is that limit to a classroom setting?

I was sitting by a fire with his head on my shoulder, feeling frozen. All I could do was think about bodies lying in a fire. I couldn't decide if my mind was thinking about being burned alive, or the act of setting someone on fire after they have died as a ceremony to allow their spirit to be free.
All I know is I thought it was beautiful, and realized how much I don't care about anything as much as beauty.

sometimes I feel like a-Jane Austen

maybe I'll die a spinster and dream of fantastic romances

I used to sing this plaintive song
In 1903 and never knew
How much my love was Phoenix-like
If in the evening it should die
The Morning brought it back to life

We are all just fucking animals.

braless and wine drunk

It must be bad that I truly feel like myself when I drink wine in the morning, smoke a cig on the porch, and walk around braless. It can't be bad however that the most beautiful jazz music is blasting throughout the house and I break in to a hypnotic dance once in a while. It can't be bad. It just can't.

Happy Easter

I woke up at 7 am this morning to find myself very warm and very much not alone.
And I turned to my other half, and found a boy from the punk rock band from earlier. But when we went to bed he played Pet Sounds, and I smiled and told him I didn't want to have sex. I told him my vibrator had fucked me up and I will never have sex again. He thought there was an easy solution, but I objected and told him I thought my breasts were great, and that I had no problems with them.
So when I woke up, wearing only his underwear, I was proud of myself for not having "sex" and being a sexual being at the same time.
( Though, I do think it's high time for a new definition of "sex" because I think I have sex with boys without the actual penis in vagina. )

Regardless of being proud, I rushed out and wished him Happy Easter.

Dead Frog

I was walking in the middle of the street, as I often do when I'm alone, and came upon a dead frog. No more than 2 inches long, on it's back, with all it's legs rigid as though it were frozen in time.
I looked at it, while standing in the middle of the street, for maybe 30 seconds. It felt much longer.
I thought about moving it. But I couldn't. It was so still and eerie.
It really freaked me out. I felt so bad, that I have this fear of frogs, and hope to go my life never knowing their touch. So I didn't move it, but hoped it understood.

And speaking of touch. It's been over 3 months. And my drive still has not returned. I cannot seem to break free of this stupor the vibrator gave to me. Talked with Tovah. She said the vibrator we got was no good for her either, except it didn't put her in a weird altered state of consciousness when it came to sexuality. I don't know why all this seems so important to me.

By Monday I will have taken 3 nude rolls of photographs of myself. I keep fucking up.
I find myself holding onto my breasts for dear life. It's the only thing that comforts me as of late. I could rid myself of my entire identity except for my breasts.

Lately I have been feeling torn, or I suppose I've always struggled with confidence and sexuality. I don't understand why so many women can feel so comfortable being sexual, and looking sexy and confident, when I almost feel like I have to apologize for being a sexual, attractive being. I find myself feeling almost humiliated when someone is attracted to me or interested in me. I think I need to be more comfortable with myself, allow myself to feel pretty, and confident. I think I need to let myself and others enjoy my body, sex is awesome and I don't think I should be so timid about it. I think it's time I bought myself a vibrater.

Multiple exposure self portraits once again.

One roll: Me on vinyl couch, in white dress. White= what we conceive as purity in our culture. Looking innocent, looking sexual, looking happy, touching myself looking distant, etc.
other roll: Me on vinyl couch completely naked. Nude= sexual and obscene in our culture, but it's that was is actually pure?
Will have somewhat similar poses.

Discussion of the idea of purity.
GO

I am now living in a house filled with Charles Bukowski, paint by numbers, owls, a swing in the backyard attached to the big tree, and christian art that is not meant to be religious.

I live with a young married couple, until I find a new place, on a convertible bed in a room that has a large slant, built in dressers, and 3 paint by number paintings, 2 owls, two windows, and a light.

My breasts feel saggy, as does my entire body. I want to sleep until noon, and read Sylvia Plath all day. I will forget I know a single soul in Portland, and drink coffee until I no longer need to. Though these days I never know when to stop. Perhaps a shower to scrub my body. Sometimes I feel like a good scrub seems to take off ten layers of myself, and I can sleep again.

It's time to sleep and dream of better times.

The other night I had a sex dream where mid way through I realized we weren't using protection, so I bought the plan B, it was really not a very good or sexy dream obviously. Last night I had a dream that I was bathing a baby, this baby was mine, she was very small and naked, she had blond hair, and when I tried to call her Margot she did not want to be called that and she told me so. I was very loving towards her and even woke up missing her. What the fuck?
I heard at one point in my life that to dream you are having a baby is a new beginning, but I also heard it meant that someone else is going to die. I hope it's the new beginning thing, because honestly I really need to have a change.

seclusion is all I need for a few days, or week, or month(s). I can walk the streets, and not worry about running into anyone I know. I need to hide in the corner, book in hand, reaffirming that my life is going to continue to keep running. I don't need anyone but myself to explain what is happening to me. Or why, when I have yet to reach the 20 year mark I feel like I could die tomorrow and be satisfied? I hear I am a good person, but I think it's all just a farce. I think we can all do some pretty awful things, and I cannot say that I am unaware of my ability to be cruel.

I have never read The Bell Jar, but I think this might be the season to do so.

I have no attachments for this moment
No boyfriend
No place to call a home
School is ending this week.
and I just came into a large sum of money.
What does this all mean, when this all happens within one week? It's a sign, if I ever did see one.

I could drive far away.
Or hop a train. bus. plane.
I need one more sign I think.

Mes vers fuiraient, doux et frêles,
Vers votre jardin si beau,
Si mes vers avaient des ailes,
Des ailes comme l'oiseau.

Ils voleraient, étincelles,
Vers votre foyer qui rit,
Si mes vers avaient des ailes,
Des ailes comme l'esprit.

Près de vous, purs et fidèles,
Ils accourraient, nuit et jour,
Si mes vers avaient des ailes,
Des ailes comme l'amour!



If my verses had wings!
My verses would float, soft and frail,
To your beautiful garden
If my verses had wings like a bird!
They would fly, sparkling,
To your laughing hearth
If my verses had wings like the spirit.
Near to you, pure and faithful,
They would rush, night and day,
If my verses had wings like love!

Tarot cards never lie.
I'm not sure if I should be happy.

It said deceit was behind me. And in my last one it said I would be committing to deceit and dishonesty-- and then those things happened.

I'm shaky about all this, except that the tarot cards never lie.

Listening to the rain pound down onto the roof of the house. wanting to go out and feel it on my face. Perhaps I will, after I write this. feel myself get wet. Feel myself get warm, in the humidity of this place, this area. Even when it's sunny it's cold. But the second those clouds form overhead, it gets warm and all is calm. The rain begins and you know in 30 minutes it will be sunny again. And then suddenly its raining once again. The weather plays with your mind, twirling itself in front of you enticing you to bend to it's will.
So you put on a layer or two, and tough it when Mother earth says "blue skies and cold mornings ahead."
the mornings are cold and the nights are rainy.
And I'm left upset as I sneak to bed.
Leave him, move on, find friends, escape from this world that has aligned itself with such imperfection.
I am not happy, though I hope to find it.

I woke up this morning feeling very discontent, almost angry. I went to Linder's Greenhouse and applied for a job, that seemed to go well, then I just drove to the only place I knew would make me feel better. The cliff park at the end of Summit, I stepped out of my comfortably warm car into the blindingly beautiful sun. I hopped the fence and slid down a slight hill to the muddy cliffs. In order to climb down I had to grab hold of many roots and stones, I could hear the the trickling of water and I followed. No matter how sketchy the ground was or how cold I was getting I knew it was worth it. I finally arrived at the frozen waterfall, where I had brought many loves, but never just myself. I sat a top the fall, right next to the small trickling creek that led to this icicle cavern. I sat and let the sun warm me, I couldn't help but smile. I sat for two hours thinking of absolutely nothing, letting myself feel nature, and hear nature, as I closed my eyes. I hopped over the creek, and followed animal tracks, touched a tree and felt how warm it was, how alive it was. I felt the shelter the trees provided, and thanked them for the breath that I was breathing at that very moment. I walked back, slipping and sliding, grabbing branches, and thanking them for the support they offered on my little adventure. Stepping back into sight of people, I was alone again, aware of the cold, and the long drive home.

Constantly avoid the present.
Had Piet Mondrian and I met back in 1911, I would have kicked up my heels and pronounced my love of the universe.





Need I say more?
OKay... I will



I don't think it can get more clear than that.
This is what I've been looking for.

Come again, choose to go

Friday night I was in Olympia. And I felt like I was.. I want to say "19 again!" but then I realized that I was 19, and that my whole life is completely skewed. I have to drive 2 hours to find friends, or they 2 hours to find me.

I sang and danced under the sky. We made an entire bus do a sing along. We all laughed and stacked our feet on top of one another. There was a boy who had taken a month long oath to not talk; he stacked his feet, but did not laugh. And we shared a cigarette and he shared his music with me, and I leaned on him, and felt content, looking wildly all around.

And we staggered up the hill, peering into the storefronts. My nose stuffed full of pills, I was wide eyed and smiling. Feeling part of something. As we got closer to our destination music started playing, but nothing I have ever heard before.
We arrived and someone came running at me giving me a hug and screaming my name. Greg. And he dragged me all around, telling me to go up to people and ask them for drinks. And laughing at me, at my shyness. He has no such thing. But I get along with him none the less. We stole to the upstairs and smoked joints and looked out the window to a dark alley way and parking lot, and talked about the scenic view. Things on the wall kept falling off, whenever someone got locked in the bathroom and had to break down the door.

I saw a book by Allen Ginsberg and smiled, flipping through it then put it back.
When we went down for a cigarette, there were bodies on the porch covered in blankets. Greg whispered, "Whenever people throw big parties homeless kids come and ask if they can spend the night. It's nice"
They looked like dead bodies that had been covered to me, but I decided not to let it bother me. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.
And we made our way back. All the while skipping and jumping.
On the bus I got silent. Greg had found me my 1 buck whiskey chuck I had been asking for all night, and then laughed as I sat and smiled.


And at 10 in the morning I left Olympia, after going to the bus station to retrieve my cell phone which I had lost in all the commotion of the previous night.

On the way home the radio played all the right songs and I smiled the entire time.

I think my lack of posts is due to the fact that I keep viewing this as a place where my thoughts have to be actually thought-out (I didn't mean for that to sound so stupid). That's what I mean, I guess. What I mean is that I keep thinking about it like those really intense blogs with references, links, etc. Anyway, I like the way Maggie uses this, as more of a journal between the three of us.

For awhile I've been thinking about writing this long blog post about my obsession (sort of like Maggie and colors) with gender, more specifically masculinity / femininity / androgyny / etc but fuck it. It will have to wait.

This whole day I've been listening to Baby Love by the Supremes over and over again. It's really weird and nonsensical because I'm not anywhere near a relationship and haven't ever been, really. I think it has a lot to do with my fascination and fixation on the idea of relationship and my idealistic criteria for what constitutes a real one.

Which is stupid because I'm 18 and all that means is that I'm irrationally choosy and shy. Fuck that.

I'm Really Rosie. And I'm Rosie Real

I am constantly stuck in the past.

Here is a picture my mom sent me today, at the end of an email about me doing what makes me happy, and what feels right. it's from 10th grade is my guess. I miss Winston, and my mom. There is a note in the background that I wrote to my mom that says "I heart you! I love you Mom, for all you have given me, plus more! You are the best ever!"
She said she's going to come and visit me in March. I am more excited about that then anything going on in my life right now.

I guess the lord must be in new york city.

My uncle wants to fly me out to New York again.
How do I accept that and not allow myself to feel completely guilty?

I have been really aware of colors lately.
Their effects on me and surroundings.
This orange is making me feel warm.
And the blue is making me feel cold.
The dim lighting makes this place really dark
but it's bright because the walls are pink and orange.
If the walls were not that color, I don't know if I could see across the room.

Blue and yellow make green. Red and Yellow make orange. Red and blue make purple. But purple doesn't go with yellow. Nor red with green. And blue with orange.

Warm colors are as followed: red yellow and orange.
Cool colors are: green, blue, and purple.
But purple can sometimes feel warm.

Warm colors come forward. Cool colors recede.
You feel warmer when standing next to a bright red wall, as opposed to a blue wall.
This girl had painted a 5'' tall canvas completely red, and I felt the heat. She started sweating.

Put red next to blue, and red comes forward as blue recede. Put purple next to yellow and yellow comes forward. But I bet if you put purple next to green, purple would come forward.

If you want dark yellow, you cannot add black. It makes green.
You must add brown.
How do you make brown? yellow and purple. green and red. blue and orange.

Maggie

How serious are you about the New Mexico thing? Because we should really do that.

Making flowers grow from nothing at all.

TT

SHOULD WRITE ON HERE MORE

Oddly I am hurt
Two bruises on my inner thighs
And my pounding, racing heart says that I'm nervous
You gave me that warm winter
that replacer of headaches
you grabbed me all night
you couldn't sleep
Oddly I feel foolish
two small breasts
unshaved legs
inexperienced
and overwhelmed at how you were so angled to perfection
you knew where to find me, and I you
and yet, we both ask
Look at me and say I'm beautiful
then
Look at me and you say you like "all" girls with blue eyes
I didn't plan this
Neither did I
Rough hands, smooth legs
puffy, kissed lips, red and moist
neck, shoulder, lips, breast
your pale limpid blue eyes always staring
I don't or didn't know what to think

Remember: driving around and realizing it was so close to 4:20, so we HAD to pack a bowl. Even though we had already smoked.

Those were some golden days.
Was cleaning and took a break for some weed.
I like the new Animal Collective album.
The sun is shining, took my dog on a walk. Everyone loved her. I didn't need a coat.
Beth held her while I went to go uy some toilet paper.
Was going to buy us some soda's for the walk home, but decided to pass. I couldn't figure out what Beth would have wanted. It worried me that I couldn't figure out what she would have wanted. I couldn't feel a persons energy.

March is going to be here before long..
I'm excited and scared.
I was thinking of going and visiting Sally, but I think it's going to be too expensive. Especially with me moving right now.
Brady is coming. I'm really excited.
MAYBE birdy?
But I'm also afraid of being homeless..

super lame

So I've been sitting in my bathroom getting stoned. Blowing pot smoke into a flannel shirt, thinking about how much I hate living with my mother. My car's starter is broken and won't be repaired for about a week, so I can't really go anywhere. I can't seem to find a job, not even a place that is hiring, actually. Honestly, I feel so stuck and I don't really have anyone I can go to as an escape. I'm thankful though, because it's reminding me that I am strong, and I can push through this, I can stay positive, and know that this is just temporary, the sun and the moon are always there to balance things out. I'm learning to just relax, get things done to the best of my ability, and let things fall into place in whatever way they occur. However I do hope to find a job so I can afford to live away from such negativity that my current situation brings.

The sky is always grey on days like today.

It's like.. it knows.
broke up with Keith... again.


I need a bottle of wine and cigarettes.

HOWWWWWLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Down with the man. I just got done watching a documentary about how major corporations put genes into seeds and then patent the seeds, and then sell them to farmers, and even farmers who don't want them end up with patented crops due to the natural process of pollination. Then the corporations sue the farmers. Ugh, I just can't even believe that. Corporations shouldn't be able to put a patent on any form of life, this is just ridiculous. And scary.

Suddenly, the sky is no longer open, and it has been hidden by clouds. It seems like it's been hidden for years, but it's only been a week. At least with the rain comes humidity. Or is it the other way around?

I've been laying in bed until 12 these days. Sometimes longer. I snuggle with my dog and look up at the ceiling trying to figure out what to do.


All the great modern artists went to southern France to experience COLORS.
I want to go to a desert. I bet the skies are so vast and blue. And the sunsets will fill the sky with pinks, oranges, reds, and purples.
Ohh New Mexico.
I've been emailing Will. He told me to watch out, because if I want to go to New Mexico too much, I'll end up in New Mexico. And then I live in New Mexico.
I thought it was relatively funny.

So here is a Tao Te Ching
20.

Stop thinking, and end your problems.
What difference between yes and no?
What difference between success and failure?
Must you value what others value,
avoid what others avoid?
How ridiculous!

Other people are excited,
as though they were at a parade.
I alone don't care,
I alone am expressionless,
like an infant before it can smile.

Other people have what they need;
I alone possess nothing.
I alone drift about,
like someone without a home.
I am like an idiot, my mind is so empty.

Other people are bright;
I alone am dark.
Other people are sharp;
I alone am dull.
Other people have a purpose;
I alone don't know.
I drift like a wave on the ocean,
I blow as aimless as the wind.

I am different from ordinary people.
I drink from the Great Mother's breasts.

Thank you Mother Earth

Run run run

Feeling like running in your bones..
I tried to explain this concept to Keith last night. How I needed to get moving.
How I could feel it in my bones. That this was the right thing to do.
It was like that night, all those years ago. What? Three years almost?

Sally and I both got out of control. She ran as far away as she could, and I got lost in a house. And she had to be picked up by someone, and I almost got sexually attacked.

And after wards, when we found one another I said, "Can we drive to Stillwater?"
and we hugged one another, cried, and drove, though quite intoxicated, all the way to the river, and slept in the old red van.

And though this situation is much different, it feels like that need to leave and go to the river. Get away, and be changed forever.

That next morning, we walked, bare footed, along the river. At one point we realized I had my pants on inside out. We thought it was really funny, until we realized why they were inside out, and we both got quiet. We found some rocks to sit on and sat in silence looking at the water, looked at what was becoming of our lives.
As we drove back to Shoreview we were listening to "Homeward Bound" and I kept pressing the button to repeat the song. And we sang it over and over and over. We must have listened to it 10 times on that 20 minute drive.
She was leaving, and I would be staying. I was so mad that she was getting out of Minnesota. That she would soon be free.
We talked about running away. We talked about it throughout the rest of the summer. At one point I think we were both ready.

I think I'm ready to run.
It's funny, that I constantly think of my flights and frustrations as running. I never run physically run.
I always have this mystical place in mind as well. Whether it be the west, a cornfield, a river, San Francisco, New Mexico.

I've been listening to that song lately.. or rather the song has been finding me, San Francisco, I think it's a sign I need to get going.
This weekend I heard it at least 4 times. I haven't heard that song since my senior year of high school, really.
It's time.
I broke up with Keith last night.

Oh, girls, just wanna have fun

la la la love

Like a wild ethereal chorus planted at every corner
you surround me
hand shake, thanks,
you can harness me lover
the thing, love, crawls out of giving,
you, hypnotic leader better turn yourself happy or self destruct
you shine, you do,
brewing the smiles and the laughs
sound awake we turn in our separate beds
a swirly miss

OH HERE I GO

I have been listening to Kate Bush, "Hounds of Love" over and over since 9. It is 12.
I broke to listen to Bob Dylan, "Simple twist of Fate" and listened to that 5 times in a row.

I am realizing and breaking through my own prejudices this month I feel like. I'm excited to see what becomes of it. I read this article that told me there are 5 signs to decide a person is a female, and to accept it. But it takes us one or two to decide they are a male. We would rather label a person and accept their identity as a male rather than a woman.

So I thought of when I was in Olympia and dancing with this person, and trying to decide if it was a boy or a girl. And kept saying reasons why they were a girl, but had this overwhelming feeling of the male sex. And I kept listing things, hair style, boobs, clothing, but I still couldn't decide if this person was a male or female. But why the hell did it matter. I don't care which gender or sex I dance with, yet I was trying to figure it out. Why did it matter? There are only two sexes socially constructed, and people are put into boxes.

Ah.
I am constantly thinking about color and distance. And how things look blue in the distance. AS in, the farther something is from you, the more blue it looks. I really get that, seeing mountains in the distance. I get why people paint mountains blue, and sky lines as blue. I think that's so exciting. I love sitting next to something that is bright red, and actually FEELING the heat coming from the red. It's so brilliant.
My eyes are feeling the pressure of this new world.
Octopus... New Mexico? September?

I feel stuck. Why is it that I view college as the biggest mistake of my life, it binds me financially to my mom, who treats me like shit. She hasn't stopped yelling at me for three days now, and I haven't even seen her. What is wrong with her, when she spends all her time yelling at a voicemail machine? I feel sorry for her, because I can always make more money, but she doesn't seem to be able to make herself calmer, or a better person.

I've decided to just write on here all the time.
As I said, I have lots to say, and the ability to do so.

I think an artists colony would be the perfect idea.
I think we should go to the desert. Feeling philisophical. Octo- you are taking next year off? What do you guys think about spending 2 weeks at a youth hostile in September? New Mexico style? Bring a bunch of wood and paint? Go into the desert. Find some cacti? Meditate? Feel the sun?
I've never been in a desert. I hear Georgia O'keefe spent much time at a place in New Mexico called the "Ghost Ranch"
Maybe we can all start painting vaginas.

I feel stuck. And this idea of New Mexico just sounds awesome..
I'll look into it, if you guys are in.

Lying in my bed, smoking a cigarette and playing the song "Crimson and Clover" on repeat, is splendid, just splendid.

All day, every day

I have so much to say, constantly. And I am often times left un-amused, so I have much to say, with the ability to do so.

I sometimes dream about moving back in with my parents. I think it mainly has to do with my mom, and this unfinished business I constantly feel I have with her. I think we both have things to learn from one another. I wish she would take her vacation hours and come visit me. Just talking about it makes me weepy.
I also think, when you are away from a place, it is often romanticized.


I just spent an hour trying to make myself feel something, with nothing to show of it. Instead I looked at the ceiling and imagined it as though it were moving through time and space. And then I contemplated New Mexico. I met this woman at the book store yesertday that told me of a youth hostile in New Mexico. She even gave me the name. It's in Albuquerque. She told me I had to living in one place for at least 2 years though. We talked about the Tao of Pooh. And of Unitarian Universalists. Of artists. Van Gogh, poetry. Living in different cities. Of energy. And painting books that are in black and white don't make a lick of sense.

I bought a classic looking white dress. Short sleeves. Collar. Button up in the front. And when I spin in it, it fans out and gets really big.
I felt classic in it. I don't know when I'll get the balls to wear it. But I'm excited by the idea of owning it.

"Coffee went down the wrong pipe"

Every few days, I will be laying in bed, ignoring the sun or the clouds. And suddenly a violent sound comes from the bathroom and Keith is puking. Not because he's hung over. Not because he has the flu.
Just because in the mornings he gets sick. Or something.
It makes me feel really uncomfortable.
It makes me want to hide under the covers, actually.

But he always comes up with a cover, that is never convincing
"I stood up too fast."
"I got dizzy."
"I was swallowing my spit all night."
"Coffee went down the wrong pipe"

I sometimes wish I had my own bed. And so when I cannot sleep I could turn to that blank canvas in my room and paint. I've been having these thoughts pretty often..
I want to move to New Mexico.

Can I just float away?

No sleep drives me crazy. Everything affects me. One look and someone despises me, loathes me, is annoyed with me. Everything has a motive, a reason, and it's all pitted against me. Everyone's movements seem too contrived, part of a scheme or a reaction to something I've done. I pace around in hysteria thinking HolyShitI'mANutCase and they all know it! What a pain anxiety is!

--

Sometimes, for as long as I remember, I get this inexplicable feeling when I lay down, this push and pull in and outside of me. Something expanding right behind my eyes, being pushed inwards but too large to contain. I wait for a few moments and it subsides...

Tweet Tweet

Current weather: 47 and sunny.
I took out the garbage in my PJs.
Then I mopped the kitchen.
Put away laundry.
Did a load of laundry
I've disregarded any attempt I once had to keep up with fashion.
My boss keeps telling me I look disheveled, I hope that doesn't mean she wants me to put in effort to look good.

I'm going to drink coffee all day and pretend yesterday didn't happen. I worked all day, and then came home, drank beer, watched Beth begin to make a skirt, made grilled cheese, and sat online with Brady until 1 AM.

I don't have school tomorrow, so I am going to go to Powells and sit and read books in the aisle. I'm going to stick to Women's studies, books by Karl Marx, wander over to African American studies, then maybe find a book about New Mexico (who wants to move with me? I'm thinking 6 months of desert), visit my sexist friend Bukowski, find a book about Socrates, and finish up with... the top level... ART. I want to find this book of letters Van Gogh wrote to his brother.

There is a blank ply wood board, gessoed and ready to go in my room. On an easel and everything. It's been staring at me for 3 days.
Color theory. No perspective. No ideas. I think it's going to be for birdie.
Must do another tarot reading.
Ill get back to you on that.

"Why are we all awake?"
My body is aching, which I attribute to the fact that I've forgotten how to sleep.
At night I attempt almost every form of pillow body combinations, contorting, and shifting myself around. Often times deciding to just give up and face the ceiling. Usually at this point I can hear that Laura isn't asleep either, I wonder if I should ask her to smoke, and drink some tea. But I never do.
In the summer when I couldn't sleep, I would make myself some coffee and go for a walk. I'd always go to this huge stone fountain on campus, just lie in front of it, close my eyes, and eventually fall asleep there, in the grass. And I'd wake up with the sun warming my face.

Me and Bobby

I used to listen to "She Belongs To Me" by Dylan all the time. It was never a song I listened to with other people really. It was more like my own private song. A guide line on how I was to live my life.
I was an artist. I had everything I needed.
I never stumbled because I had no place to fall.
I was on a mission to find an Egyptian ring.
And I really did believe the law couldn't touch me.
Over and over I played it whenever I was alone driving in my car.

But then no one ever gave me a trumpet for Halloween. Nor a drum for Christmas. I never found an Egyptian right.. or never tried hard enough to find one And I realized, maybe I wasn't that girl.

However, I have always felt very connected to that whole album. I'm not sure if it has to do with Maggie's Farm, because I don't really like that song. I feel as though perhaps there is a connection regardless if I like the song or not. I mean, what's in a name? But I really like the rest of the album. Even if every song does kind of sound alike. When you are inspired by a certain sound, I suppose you might end up making a whole album sound like that.

On a completely unrelated note, I did a tarot reading about my relationship and almost every card talked about distrust and deceit. Over and over again.

Exhausted

Woke up, it's only warm under this blanket. Someone popped popcorn for breakfast.
Waited with Mitchell for Tyler to pick us up, feel like we overstayed our welcome.
Bummed a cigarette off of Matt, for some reason the song Gangster's Paradise is in my head.
Got car keys, brushed snow off car.
Drove to the grocery store
On the way smoked the cigarette, didn't expect it to be a Menthol but it was good
Made breakfast with Mitchell.
Watched a few episodes of Clarissa Explains it All
Smoked some grass, drank some juice.

Purest of laughter is most important.
I've been in good spirits lately.
The sun is always shining these days. And at night the world fills with fog, so thick you cannot see 20 feet ahead.
An exchange of, "Can you see me now?" went on for minutes. Though, it should have lasted longer.
We ran down to the river and walked out on the dock, to the middle of the river. And I walked away from everyone, looking at what should have been a hill of trees and only saw a dark shadow. And wondered how this place will impact my life.
I think I need to find more of my energy.
And maybe paint a pretty picture

hooowlll