| People don't understand how lonely it is to be a kid... |
[15 Sep 2005|07:23pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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trying to stay like yuri |
] |
| [ |
music |
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modest mouse="lounge" the end of it x10000000000 |
] |
i am not brilliance.
i will try to improve my writing. please, give me more time. please.
I guess weeks are supposed to come & go like life & death. Months are long.
The man in the sky prolongs the suffering of the day to study what he has created. & in efforts to write countless of numbers of memoirs, self notations, & books of his rule, dictation & ownership. He still cannot fathom why when we look at the minutes on a circular diagram of age. We become so confused.
Sir, I deny myself sleep for your study. The destitution of water & food are replaced with your undoubted confidence on a perfect frame. But I will not die, by your moral code; you will feed me when I’m ready.
I now affirm all artificial matter, sub-matter, & anything to that affect are perfect, healthy, and just as beautiful.
So I guess what I’m trying to say is that I need more time to remember what I already forgotten. I need more time to recognize why you built this stage for an actor of your own scripted future. In your absolute image. YOU’RE TYRANNY IS A FUCKING BORE. I’m sorry, but I’ll be taking a plane tomorrow into the ground.
In your book of numbers, I am number 77700777007700007770007007007 ect…
You know that by heart. You don’t know my face; you don’t know my name like I know yours. I can’t call you now on the telephone my ears are hurting.
You call me a simply said barcode number. A spider web of never ending numbers calculated by both star & planet.
I miss when I used to sit on your shelf. So lady-like. In your dusty mind. Clogged with cobwebs. The furnace kept me warm & I was never alone. I never caught a cold. I was very happy.
Please, just be patient. I’ll grow up. Just give me more time
end.
i;m sorry. give me more time to perfect myself. i will i promise i will stop writing about stars & my heart. i'm sorry. please.
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| FUCK YU GARTH., |
[11 Sep 2005|05:28pm] |
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mood |
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HYPER/ PISSED/CUT YU. |
] |
| [ |
music |
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boyz in the hood,. eazy mutha fuckin' eee'/// BAKERRR333 |
] |
hey, listen. if you don't like what i write. choke on my dick the size of your arm.
& fuck you.
CURB STOMPING TONIGHT.,
baker 3
baker 3
it;s all about the bang nigga over da head ya'll.
FUCK YOU.
& IF IT WAS GARTH. GET ON YOUR KNEES. CHOKE ON MY DICK. SWALLOW.
HA.
plans for my eighteenth birthday= yalta, russia. with yuri & nikolai for 1 year.
bai bai bitch.
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| IF YOU'RE GONNA SCREAM; SCREAM AT ME. |
[20 Aug 2005|08:23pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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frusterated;heartbroke |
] |
| [ |
music |
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the misfits="hybrid moments" |
] |
i'm gonna talk about what really happened today instead of ranting.
well, i went to hollywood with chelsea doll, to go to ameoba records & i bought a misfits [static age] & a lower class brats [a class of out own] CD.
i met tommmy, he's a cool guy.
i threw up.
i met boys that were sitting on a roof of a store. little punk looking kids.
i like them.
i hope i see them again.
they're nice.
got yelled at.
did laundry.
cry.
& today was great.
there are TV's in buses. that is crazy.
me & yuri are friends again.
i hope i drop dead too.
anyone wanna take a walk in the dark with me tonight?
i'm going
<weare138
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| i fucking hate myself for being such a loser. |
[20 Aug 2005|01:46am] |
| [ |
mood |
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frusterated |
] |
| [ |
music |
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"SEVENSEVENSEVEN" DAAANZZIG & teh emerica skate vid together |
] |
hey, i hate you more than you hate me. so shut the fuck up. i hate you.
p.s.
& fuck that.
When I cry,
I can feel the world spin faster.
& I sit down to launch into the sky.
The rush of heated cold colliding with my human bones.
Skeletal erection,
A pin point.
Crushing & liquifying them till there's nothing left.
I search through solar souls.
Billions of them loosing heart.
I guess they're called angels,
But they light up,
Give up,
Like stars.
When they piss on me they water my garden.
& make the weeds steahily grow.
Through the rust iron gate.
To the broke ornamented sky.
hey, i wrote that, i'm pretty cool, huh? i have no friends. shut the fuck up, phaggot. yuri is back, i hate his ass. tomorrow i'm gonna go get some friends. i am sucha fucking loser. if i lived in another state, i would have friends. i'm just not compatible with YOU or this time era. sorry. FUCK YOU.
p.s.
p.s.
seven
seven
seven is my name.
& yes, i'm going to go crazy tomorrow. for god knows why. i miss the russians. west side pavillion soon. i miss them.
russiaback
yuriisnothomeupstairs. i will kick his face in.
I LOVE DANIZIGDANZIGDANZIG...///\
i hate you wanna be punkers that dye yer hair a milliuon different colours just to get noticed. you fake bitches. & you guys that get the boots that i've been wanting since the sixth grade because your families rich. FUCK YUU & YER RICH FAMILY. I HATEEE YOU. & YER FISHNETS, FUCK, I HATE THOSE THINGS. P.S. SUCK MY DICK.
I LOVE DANZIG & ERIK ELLINGTON
shit, i feel like sucha freak. damn it, jasmine, yer a faggot.
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| DANCING DAYS ARE HERE AGAIN |
[26 Jul 2005|03:14am] |
| [ |
mood |
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strong |
] |
| [ |
music |
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LED ZEPPELIN/THE WHOLE ALBUM OF "HOUSES OF THE HOLY" |
] |
by the way,
i am starting a whole new life else where. i am thinking of moving to kerch, ukraine with my dearest kin, nikolai. i have realized that there is nothing here for me. accept for american pigs & overindulgent slobs. yes, i enjoyed spending the last three years of my life in your dust & dirt alley ways, & i love you for sheltering me there, but i think it is time for me to move on. away from america & things like that. with kain & ahmed & only my most caring & loving friends. whom you can't even call friends. they are more a part of you. they will always be apart of me. i would die for them. they have never criticised me & stayed by me till the end. & i promise to be there for them even more.
i have spent many a year on this ground. wasteland apocolypse considered destiny covered in thr rich soil of Tara.
[TARA, TARA, TARA]
nikolai has been sending me electronic mail from russia. he has become a marxist/lenninist. i don't know what pride is, i know what false pride is. but he...he is pride.
re volt.
my best friend's mother has comitted suicide.
anyone miss last summer...
?
P.S. I AM SHAVING THE BACK OF MY HEAD, KAITLYYNNNN. & LEAVING THE REST, IT WILL LOOK COOL.
OH, YEAH ANYONE THAT'S NOT A CUNT WANNA GO WITH ME TO THE WHITE STRIPES SHOW ON THE 15TH OF AUGUST AT THE GREEK THEATRE. 48 DOLLARS & STUFF. CALL ME OR IM ME OR WHATEVER. AHMED IS GOING, I THINK.
DANCING DAYS ARE HERE AGAIN, SPREAD THE WORD.
the old VENICE CREW.
avalon
noah malloy
eli
jasmine
ruby
ansis
YOU KNOW.
fuck anyone that doesn't like me. fuck anyone that's gonna bail. fuck anyone that's gonna act like they have a dick up their ass.
PICTURES FROM LAST SKATE SESSION:
HOUSES OF THE HOLY.
all photos taken by me.
THANKS.
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[21 Jul 2005|01:54am] |
| [ |
mood |
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crying. |
] |
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music |
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no music, movie="AMERICAN BEAUTY |
] |
ahmed, i love you. i love you so much.
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| JUST THOUGHT I HAD TO BE IN COMPTON SOON... |
[18 Jul 2005|02:37am] |
| [ |
mood |
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upset |
] |
| [ |
music |
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bookstorebookstorebookstore |
] |
Noah is here & he is playing TONYHAWKSELLOUTBULLSHIT with my kid brother. I'm very happy to be alive right now. Tomorrow I am going to roam random parts of the city that I adore including my birthplace of UCLA which automatically makes me happy everytime I step foot on that ground.
I keep having dreams of people kicking the shit outta me. I think I have like five personal hitmen wanting me DEAD. Half of you want it anyways.
There is no real fucking love in this city. The only thing I have to accomplish if I were to die this very moment would be to die alone, sad, & unfinished [see: not finished & incomplete]. It's a little late to start this summer now. It's a little late to try to find love. It's a little late to slump myself out of self induced exhaustion, sickness, & depression.
To my father. I am sick & starving & pulls out this random interpretation of artist depression, but let me warn you. Yes, go ahead, question my logic. But if you ever get between ME & ART I WILL SEE TO IT THAT LIGHT NEVER GETS THROUGH YOUR EYES AGAIN.
My friends are gone. Honestly, what the fuck do they have against me? Tell me now.
Okay, here:
Violins start playing in my ears
Dead electric
Sound sound sound
Pounding in my valves like ink
Undergound with me
Make love in the soil
Making eachother holes in the ground
Like John Wayne I want you to be buried with me
Beside me
Inside me
So I can keep you in my heart
Darling, keep you where it's always raining
I met you on a train
& I fell in love with you on a train
Ahmed♥
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| Married. Yeah yeah yeah yeah... |
[17 Jul 2005|05:46am] |
| [ |
mood |
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crying |
] |
| [ |
music |
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Nirvana="ALL APOLOGIES" [three stringed verion, cammy] |
] |
Just...you know...
Venice you broke my fucking heart & you want to know where I am? Not with you. I haven't been with you for weeks. I haven't cried inside your fucking womb in months. I haven't touched your ocean in a year. I haven't lied in your grass & laughed in a eternity. I haven't made love to your pollution & you haven't loved my soul in well...as many days are there stars in the sky. I cried so much over you tonight like you died. I haven't skated your ground like I knew what I was doing. Not in a long time. Not since last summer. Where the sun still shone in my mind & I felt happiness unrelated to any.
What people fucking consider real people is not what we consider. Nor anyone else. But we are all roaming the same shit hole & breathing the same rat poison & drinking the samecar exhaust. Treat me like it.
Old works, just trying to remember what love feels like:
///
Now we’re blindfolded
The sun never shone
The light unmistakable
To the love of my own
The beauty of the wild flower,
And how it grows
How it dies in the winter,
From what we know
Just like the child
Just like the adult
And the dying man that grows cold
///
I look out the window.
I’ll put on my black hat and over coat and walk the steps of a rickety flat.
And go meet a mistress who has no control over me.
Lady fate that set’s the day’s events.
They play like a broken record over again.
///
The first blush of attraction
We will erase
Beauty for an impulse
That will hide and return again.
But as we flip through pages in red ink
We know the kindness we had then
Instead of the blank spots we hold now
I hold you deep in my mind
More than I truly have
And my veins pulse your pictures
Memory by memory
Fades into dust
///
Today will probally be my last day on the planet or so my heart is telling me.
So, I have something to say. Very indefinte & not articulated/ worded well but...
There is no other human being like me. Say what you want, but you can not remake another Sid. You faggots will do what you will but no matter if I fucking die & rot in some hole in the ground. No one will have the same heart valves I do. No one will ever have the same attitude tword my existance that anyone has ever had tword themselves. No one will write the words down that I write & then call it the same dirt I kick and spit on.
I do not know what compassion is. Do not give me it in a novel & make me learn it. This is not school. This is my heart. Originally my heart is something that pumps blood throughout my body. Also known as the cardiovascular system [?] Therefore I fucking hate this cliche` but use it more than often.
Right now my body is fourteen years young. My mind is two thousand years old & ready to put myself through one more [234&5/infinate] schitzophrenia attack. Insomnia has offically overtaken me.
The sun is rising & my heart [cardiovascular system '?'] is almost broken.
JESUS DOESN'T WANT ME FOR A SUNBEAM.
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| I hate what I dream. |
[13 Jul 2005|12:04am] |
| [ |
mood |
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 weird |
] |
| [ |
music |
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MELLOWDRONE |
] |
So, you know. I was near the airport where all the colaboration happens. Holding my heart with both of my hands. Near the air plane exhaust.
I was heart sick. No doubt. Watching that plane leave in the almost absent sound. With the absent stars and the absent moon.
Behind you. Behind you. To your left. Look up. Blind.
My heart was pounding. I say that a lot. I must've screwed up your chances right? Sorry, with my repition. My O.C.D. Two insomniac eyes filled with eye drop coke, my STD ridden crotch [rotten crotch squirting like a heartfelt gun. your blood and puss. vomitting]. And your meth head mouth.
[Sheila, Sheila, Sheila]
You wake me up every night distraught. Weeping over my saliva splattered pillow case. To molest my heart strings. Screaming at me.
CALL THE MIDWIFE. I AM HEART SICK. I AM HAVING ANOTHER CHILD. OH, SAITY. SAITY, DARLING! YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU! YOU KNOW.
Heroin addict skinny.
Disco dancing nazi.
Blood pulsating zombie.
You know what you are?
Everything beautiful
Minus every star.
Oh Sheila let me down now.
Sheila let me down.
My name is not Saity. Your HIV infected baby. Coming out of you blistered hole.
SAITY I AM HERART SICK. LET ME TOUCH YOU, SAITY.
SAITY?
ARE YOU REAL SAITY? MY BEAUTIFUL GIRL. ARE YOU REAL?
YOU TORE THROUGH MY SOUL. AND TORE THROUGH TIME.
She touched my brown hair and called me Goldilocks.
You're eyes are blue.
She demanded they be blue.
Down stairs in the kitchen to your left was a cabinet. A cabinet with various things I'm guessing.
She threw every item out of the cabinet to the tiles of filth&filth. Till she found food colouring.
DARLING SAITY! WE WILL HAVE TO SET YOUR EYES.
[saity? saity? please, stop calling me saity.]
She pulled the top off of the methadone with her pale hands. The veins bulging out of her skin. Her sky rocket eyes were enough to get me half way back to ground, better yet, atmosphere.
She pushed me to the ground. But I didn't feel myself hit bottom. She placed her dirt and mentstral blood fingers on my eyes lids to open them wider than they were. I felt sky blue hit and drip into my eyes. I felt my throat ejaculating. Back and forth. Blue dripping down my face. Blinding me.
SAITY.
She dropped me. Blink for me Saity. Show me your pretty eyes.
My eyes were infected. She didn't understand.
OH SAITY!
She dropped the bottle.
LOVE ME, SAITY. LIKE YOU LOVE YOUR DADDY. LOVE ME LIKE YOU LOVE HIM!
Her blue fingers rubbing harshly against my face. Look at you. You look just like your beautiful mother. The innocence was coming slowly back into her eyes.
I look like my father.
Saity...
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| dead ally way. |
[08 Jul 2005|04:20pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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crying. |
] |
| [ |
music |
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pink floyd="wish you were here" |
] |
i wanna go to a show tomorrow night at the roxy. i might go with my best friend. 10:00 to 12:00? I don't know, but I'll have to take the bus.
i'm gonna go take a walk. i feel like crying. i'm gonna go visit the dead allyways and take pictures. be back in a few hours. i might go visit curran. at the guitar shop. he can always cheer me up. he's always fucking smiling. i love that. and always smiling at me. everytime i go there.
hah.
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| running over the same old ground. & how we found. the same old tears. wish you were here. |
[08 Jul 2005|01:28am] |
| [ |
mood |
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very sad. |
] |
| [ |
music |
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Pink Floyd="Wish You Were Here" |
] |
I've decided not to be apart of this society & or planet. As to be as ignorant to you as anything. I am just the shit of the Earth. Have I mentioned? Time & time again. Not even an electric orchestra can save me now.
As Nikolai has been writing to me from Russia: Facism is the decay rotting the structure of communism Lenin so lovingly built.
I want to desperately move to Russia & sit with Nikolai on the small pier in Kiev...
I want Ahmed to come with me. I love him so much.
Maybe I'm just being irrational. I am so stupid & ugly. If there is one thing I've learned from the people on this planet...
I mean nothing and no matter how beautiful the intention of my heart my skin & position are all that make you sociable on a planet so disgusting.
---
& if I were to say something I would say: In the end my heart will still matter because it will be beating still in my maggot engulfed shit hole body. Something pure. More pure than sewer & the freeway-like pipes like the inner workings of my systematic internal clock.
In the end my heart was pumping lighter fluid to set my soul on fire. & it fooled us all.
They thought I loved them.
They thought I cared for them.
It's all gone.
Can I still say my heart matters? No way on this fucking planet can I ever say that again.
I thought the freeway was beautiful at night on the way back from nowhere. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
but;
you know;
what's beauty?
& I wanted to cry, but I went back to sleep.
but you know; now I look at it. now I look at the freeway. I see it as it looks. Just plain & the veins pulsing with gas filled cars & inhumane crashes.
& pollution
I've lost all sense of creativity.
What life imposed on me as a child.
I have lost.
I wasn't human.
I was the shit of the Earth that meant more than what it really means.
I felt alienated.
I never belonged anywhere.
I used to think we originated from exploding stars. Like you lived your previous life as a star in the center of the universe & when you started to dim and die you'd explode and land in a flaming body bag on Earth. & that was my explanation for the holes in the ground.
But that's what made me a poet you know. Subjectable to poetic terms & emotions and letting people fuck you over & trading imagination & paper & pen & art wast for growing up, reality, & some role in a cage.
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| EDWARD SCISSORHANDS |
[07 Jul 2005|04:32am] |
| [ |
mood |
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sadsadsadsad |
] |
| [ |
music |
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EDWARD SCISSORHANDS |
] |
Cutting out the curves of ice that come through the static speed of sound. Scratching against my ear drum. Vibrating in my ears better than when you never talk. But you talk the impossible with your pipe dream vision. You make it snow while I kiss the white atmosphere. Already fumbling and drooling on my vocabulary. There is NOTHING to say. I promenade around you. And you have a front row seat to the first ballet to perform in your eyes. Showstopper glance never. Space was starless. Vein enough to leave when you came out with your wooden ladder, breaking under frail weight. And stare back into their mirror-less shadow, vice; non stop. What else were you going to break? More than the atoms in the blood vessels in your arm. Covered in Mars Black vinyl and chains and thread that piece and hold it up and together. Like stapled to your paper exterior. Unbreakable; but like everything else you will not know the meaning of impossible or irrational. You move like your on a fix of time sequence and prodigality. Speed dipsomaniac on autopilot for a moment while he can get a chance to breathe. Then crash center stage. The art of expiration is no skill for a gentleman that looks nothing like human, but manages to perfect it in every aspect. Working inevitably like a robot spider.
My glass cut organs. Melted, deteriorated, thinned and spilled beneath my feet and onto the pregnant grass. I've never seen snow. Till I met this child character. Under the porch light;spotlight, nonstop. It flying above me and falling in my hair and on my actual hands unlike your hands of shatterproof steel. It floods on the grass, muted, with my glass organs, getting ready to be apart of the world. Like you make an effort to be. You are like nothing you've depicted in your prekindergarten dream in colour. You are the black and white my existence lacks. I would hold your hand even if it cost me my own.
And all this provocation has guilt-ridden you of functioning improperly under the weight of self esteem. You turn to look and slice open the palm of my hand. The deep dahlia flowing down the side of my arm and over the melting snow. Trying desperately to clean the river of blood from my knuckles and fingers.
I would hold your hand even if it cost me my own.
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| The Ocean. |
[05 Jul 2005|09:31pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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wanting&sad. |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
the white stripes="white moon" |
] |
Yesterday was the best day of my life.
End of the day. We ran. We ran so fast to the ocean and it was so dark. And I was so happy. I told him, I almost remember exactly what I said.../ I really don't know. I looked out into the vast plain of sand and nothing. No sound. Just the ocean, but it was so distant you wouldn't even know it was there. But I looked out and spoke the shit from my head out of my mouth. "You know. I could die right now. I could. But now that I look out here, I remember why I'm still standing. It's for shit like this." He stood there. Listening.
Vast plains of sand and shit. And the far off voices of the sea.
We ran more. Fireworks going off above our heads. When we heard it. We stopped in the middle of nowhere. Looking up at the clouds of smoke and spark. And we ran more. Looking for the white memorial crosses made of wood. The aisles and aisles of false worship. Trying to steal one. Maybe kill each other with it. Like he tried to kill me with his skateboard.
Let's find the dead bodies under the pier. Look, the poles. It makes you think, right? Makes you think...
I looked up at the sky. The sky is moving. But I was really just looking at the sea. The sea foam can be the clouds. The clouds that cry when I walk away.
"Look out at the sky, now. Think. It makes you think something just ended."
My heart broke with every step towards the shore. And when we got there I was ready to die. But I kept calm. Stopped my head from spinning, my cold hands from shivering. I breathed in the air like like I couldn't get enough life. When maybe it was enough or too much. But it was salt and it made my tired eyes of bus exhaust fumes AWAKE. WIDE. READY TO RELIVE.
We sat. On out skateboards. Black Label and Santa Cruz. Dust dirt bearings and wheels of plastic steel. But just sitting on transportation. Getting a free ride.
Yuri...
"Do you think the ocean thinks it's important? Because...it makes those loud noises? Trying to make us notice something so world renowned? But it's not important at all. [DOES THE OCEAN EVER END, YURI? PLEASE TELL ME IF IT DOES.] 'We destroyed the ocean before we got a chance to let it speak. Let it beg and plead.' We are the biggest predators on Earth," I said slowly, as if trying to make him understand. I turned my head. He was looking out at the sea. As if I weren't there. But he was listening. "We're selfish. All we care about is our needs and wants and ourselves. We build boats to roam the ocean and the propellers chop the dolphins up. We are declaring war on the sea, but the dolphins know no better than we do. What do they have to fight back with, Yuri? What did we ever do to them? Am I bothering you? I'm sorry."
But I talked.
"I get the ocean confused with the sky. You know, they look the same from the freeway," he kept looking out, I wasn't there...
"Jasmine, the sky doesn't move." I wanted to tell him how much I thought it was the sky, but...
I looked out. Wondering how it would feel to be knee deep in polluted salt and sewer. Also known as the Santa Monica Ocean. Running out and just burying myself there. You know...the lights near the Santa Monica Pier were so beautiful. But no, not from the pier, but from the ocean. They reflected like a blurry mirror on the ocean. Kind of like being drunk."Vanity started with mirrors. I guess the first mirror would be water. Vanity is like religion, but not mine." I wanted to die with this memory. Now. My last day to be happy. I thought about it so vaguely. Just.../ Jasmine, no more talking.
But my mind was on pure cocaine salt and running fast like my heart. Pounding on my vein covered doors and breaking them. With the blood rushing to my eyes, and that's the first time in years they began to shine. Shine bright like the bright lights on the pier.
The sand was warm. And the deeper I go, the more I'll find the ocean. And the more I began digging the more I felt. The more I began to feel hurt and longing.
( love )
|
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| Airplane war. And a picture story. |
[02 Jul 2005|06:24pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
wanting&sad. |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Modest Mouse="Baby Blue Sedan" |
] |
I am an aviator.
"When I grow up, I want to fly airplanes and be the best aviator ever."
I'd come home from war. Sit on the ground and touch walls. Because walls, y'know, they protect you. Airplanes don't. When someone fires at you, you die. That's pretty much sky life for them. You're lucky if you come crawling out of your plane. Blood, bone, and dirt. Barely skin. Just a casualty. No more fist fighting with bullet fragments from my plane engine declaring war on ground. And I have friends. They were in the same war as me, but they died. I watched my friends. They were aviators too. Don't get me wrong, they were great. But not even I can escape German pride or the bible of physics and law. They were shot down, my friends. Loud noises like the apocolypse. I was there when the apocolypse happened and lived through it. Their planes went down. On fire like dead stars, but nice and bright, kind of like my eyes, but not as bright. And warm. Made my skin warm when I felt as dead as they were. I watched their planes painted sliver and gold in the fire gind into the earth. Drilling into the warm center of the Earth and I go there when I'm cold.
( And we died that night. Under what seemed like the sea, but it was the sky. )
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| Dont' cry, yeah. She's fire. 10,9,8... |
[30 Jun 2005|05:20am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
tired;tired;&confused |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
SHINY TOY GUNS |
] |
10,9,8 & I'm breaking away,I'm all dressed up & ready to play.
7,6,5,4 & I'm all over you.
Counting 3,2,1 & I'm having fun.
I went to the movies, I had fun. I fell asleep & I claimed so much that I was tired, but it is now about 5:25 in the morning & I'm still not tired. Can't stop thinking. Ahh! I'm so stupid, what am I thinking [?]
I don't understand. Why am I so nervous & happy & and I feel in love, but I bet the world and all its hate that I'm not truely. I want to be in love, yes, but I can't. I can't because;;;stop this sentence;;;I'm confused.
The movie was...uh, irony on a wide screen && blasting speakers with the future written all over it in gigantic letters that scared the shit outta me. The movie theatre was extremely cold & I was tired. I am happy again.
I am doing nothing tomorrow. I will probally take another long walk around the Prominade by myself & think some more. I am always by myself lately. I will just go & sit near The Pier. Call my cell if you would like to hang around with me;I really miss it.
THE SUN IS RISING & I'M ALIVE TO SEE IT. I'M SO HAPPY.
( I want you to read my story;philosophy;opnionated statment;noemotionorcreativity. )
|
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| as ugly as i seem... |
[25 Jun 2005|10:33pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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crying |
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music |
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white stripes="as ugly as i seem" |
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I miss when I was happy. Avalon is not yet back from Nevada. Today was bad///&
I miss Venice. I need to take a walk, maybe later tonight and sit infront of the guitar store and wait for Curran to come to work so we can have a session.
My best friend is moving to Russia.
I'm going to sleep. My feelings are hurt/&
Goodnight Venice and Lily and you know tomorrow I should go to the ocean and bury myself there.
I will miss him.
And there was a night, me and him and he protected me from the world and held me in his arms when I started to cry. No one has ever done that for me and never will again. I am alone when he leaves.
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| poetry. |
[24 Jun 2005|09:47pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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alright. |
] |
| [ |
music |
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gorillaz |
] |
Beating heart in one hand and flashlight in the other. Tunneling out of my photo album with my bleeding finger nails as my shovel.
A VIOLIN AND CELLO CAN TEAR OUT MY HEART BETTER THAN ANY MACHINE EVER COULD.
Robots can't bleed. They don't have hearts. But you know, what do we know?
I have no English heart, although my mother might have one. I am in no way connected by heart string to her.
To you...
I am the ugliest sunovabitch to walk this planet. But I am The Little Prince born as a girl. I have more than I need. My little asteroid, my three volcanoes, my beautiful rose who [talks] ridicules me, and my fourty-four sunsets everyday of my life. It's lonely here, but I am the most beautiful human being till I realize I am the prince of nothing. Then I become you.
I fell in love with Venice and skated there and lived there and buried my heart there till it became no more. It is no more.
I don't fall in love with people. I fall in love with the city and the scum that resides in the city. The whores, prostitutes, pimps, drug dealers, junkies, drugies, killers, rapists, liars, cheaters, drunks, street musicians, and the poor. Taxi drivers that look like the younger version of Robert Dinero and pornographic films and dirty movies. It's all great from what I can see. It's a body that's had too much of one disease. A never ending flow of filthy water color blood through crud walled veins. It's all great.
Life loves me just as much as I love it...
Hah, explosions in the sky. Painting more seemless wet dreams on my canvas brain cells. A spark in the sky. And it screws up my vision. That's all it does. Makes me drunk. But I'm not.
Comparison to the millions of people on this patch of ground...
The life that is being counted by someone in the clouds day by day. And...
And, you know, he's wondering who you are too. Just counting your head, not your heart.
I am the light of the sky today. And I fade and another lights up. I can forget. Gun powder heart now dust in the atmosphere.
Firework rain reserved to burn my skin when I fly there. On ocassion to tell you I love you, but you don't seem to care. You leave before I can nervously utter my words. I try to catch you with my hands but you dirty them and leave a pile of ashes, dust, dirt, the forgotten words, worlds. You think you are a star, important. You try hard to be. I think you are. Not really. No.
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| i hated that day... |
[18 Jun 2005|06:54pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 sad |
] |
| [ |
music |
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coldplay="the scientist" |
] |
i am ugly. wee.
It is June 17 and my heart is already shattered at my feet...
I want to be a flower. Someone...
get a gun.
( It was a happy day, but... )
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