who doesn't like singing along to queen?
i enjoy my club sandwiches on wheat sub bread and bacon fresh from oven hot. the cute boy was singing along behind the counter in falsetto (as all eighties bands do) as he cleaned the mayo from the counter and organized lettuce and onions. some rich bald bastard reading the chronicle started yelling at him, complaining that he was trying to "eat and read in peace" and then proceeded threatening to call central management. what i should have done was dump my ice water on his bald head and punched in the face for being a jerk and disturbing my peace with the music and lovely voice. i don't like it when people are mean. a word of advice...if you're gonna be a jerk, don't be a jerk in public, asshole. what i really did do was sneak over to the counter to tell brown haired boy, i dug he singing and that no one should listen to an asshole and i felt happy. down with assholes!
i <3 james.


i'm living vicariously through other's words today for i have none of my own.
swifty equal sign pure genius.
ham and cheese sandwich (that back in french one we called a croque monsieur) and minestrone soup. little noodle shells and garbanzo beans half submerged in tomato italian broth. fill me up with warmth b/c my toes are cold today. joe was nice to me today and i smiled b/c i am happy to see all their faces around a wooden table with me at the head.
currently spinning: braid: i keep a diary


it's all getting a little old and i just want to get out.
stinky and i plan to be the next owen wilson and wes anderson/matt damon and ben affleck team b/c we're geniuses. we started developing the characters in our film tonight. just watch, we'll be famous in ten years. the two of us talked about children picking their noses and firetrucks over steak and cheese quesadillas with lime sauce. hi-key lighting and color dominance. hmm, so royal tenenbaums three days in a row. gold, pure and solid fucking gold. probably the inspiration to what we have developing in pencil written words and free flowing thoughts.
momoko filled us with sweet taro root tea through a straw from a styrofoam cup. pretty kitty stickers and little tables.
life gets better and better the more we delve into rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead. heads. heads. heads. ninety-seven times over.
my brain hurts and i am tired. in the sleepy way and the sense that people keep harassing me about my "boy". as we speak, perhaps he is creating on omelet on a life sized frying pan or adding sauce to the chicken enchiladas ordered ten minutes ago. i like creating stories about other people when we sit waiting for a table.
currently spinning: the detachment kit: dead angels make slow sound


frightening pick up story:
on the way home from ben's, i stopped at a streetlight just at the edge of the east side. a car full of men drives up and i glance over as i normally do. before my eyes i see a man dancing his white moves and holding up his hand in a phone like manner. i roll down the window to a barrage of a horrible techno remix...
"yes, what would you like?"
"where are you going now?"
"can i have your number?"
"i'm afraid not."
(she be like, heeelll no) "well can i at least get your name?"
"telley? well..."
"well can i at least get your name? can i at least get your number?"
"umm, no. sorry."
he had his cell phone in his hand the whole time, ready.
at least the light turned green. at least i got away.


last night was cold, but i was with you.
me, myself and the shins. time i spent not thinking for myself. sitting.
stinky and i did lunch at texadelphia so we could clog our arteries for the day. we once decided to co-found the heart attack awareness organization in which we as leaders and our following would frequent the greasiest and most fattening restaurants to prepare for our own heart attack. the group plan of action: heart attack by age twenty-four. she made the wise observation that "indie rockers are wannabe construction workers" after i took note of a strutting indie rock old man wearing bad ass paint covered light blue dickies near home depot. our band will be called rosencrantz and guildenstern. and the two of us will have horrible orgasmic dance moves; the public will love it. i don't even remember why i made her laugh so hard, but i do remember we were laughing togehter as i fall back into my booth and she throws her head back. team stinky smelly.
pretty pink prom dresses with tulle and black lace, subtle flowers and low neckline. bold crimson satin sleek. no department store carbon copy, no elite "where the pretentious go to dress up" polyester four hundred dollar skirt and blouse combo. my date and i to wear matching converse in less than one hundred days (according to the school paper). allow me to enjoy the epitome of highschool for one evening. alison and i sent dresses back and forth to one another.
the notorious c.l.v. esquire and myself plan to throw a party in which guest will sit around the fire place drinking hot chocolate and speaking of cosmopolitain issues, philosphy, good novels, the future of mankind, our own future and the occasional queef/fart/pussy/sorority girl/vulgar and misinformed comment. we're good kids, trust me...
currently spinning: goldfrapp: lovely head


bottle rocket goodness.
eating donuts with you and curling up on the metal rocking seat, lit by the starry christmas lights strung around a tall tree. i like you pulling at my elbow as we recite our new dj assault lines for you. coffee and beer flow through our veins, voices soothing and skin silk and fresh. i was kissed in front of the city lights, high above the buildings it seemed and doped up on you. we smile in bliss and in confusion, real and surreal. i can see it in your eyes. a summer like wind blows your hair as my face rests on your shoulder, the two of us talking more with our movements and faces than with words. the porch like that depeche mode song, i just can't get enough. if i want to start throwing in eighties song references, i might as well add "i get weak when you're next to me (weak)". golden and pink glow surrounding our two bodies relaxed on the porch. i want to come back with you and sit in your backyard garden lit by the moon and never let go.
it's alright b/c we'll figure it out.
currently spinning: pedro the lion: lullaby


the five of us sat around a schlotzky's table imitating one person and reenacting about twenty snl sketches. i haven't laughed so hard with people i don't know as well as others in such a long time. i watch their faces which in turn has me wrinkle up my nose and laugh without sound. that's the way it is when it's too funny.
sometimes i imagine myself in movie scenes. i am the one with arms outstretched spinning in a meadow or the one lying back on a blanket with arms crossed behind my head, making up stories about the clouds. i see myself as an outsider, as if i am viewing myself on screen or through the lenses of a camera.
jealous much? we're watching a semi-pirated copy of royal tenenbaums in film. semi meaning, she's got connections. the movie itself = exceptional and the fact that we're not supposed to be watching it makes it even better. muted colors with eccentric personalities. the burning cigarettes, mass of curly hair and a neurotic urban cowboy floatin' my boat.
currently spinning: midtown: such a person
marrying names has become an addiction of mine.
i started franny and zooey last night after i started my english paper, to change moods, to ease me into sleep. somehow reading a few pages turned into reading about fifty, delaying my dreams for an hour. one dollar at half price books on guadelupe...the cover worn, weak and the pages golden with age and my fingers turn the pages with a gentle flip for my head wants more. franny makes me curious. but salinger would do that.
stinky shared her philly cheese steak with me tonight. and it made me smile as the ranch dripped down. life is good talking music with you as we laugh about the "olden days" which make me laugh even harder because it was only about three years ago. i could have watched a film about noam chompsky, but i watched you eat instead.
would anyone like to watch harold and maude with me? i think slam is the next one i'll be curling up with though.
i like the wind when it blows across my bare skin. january warm with seventy degrees farenheit. jealous much, maryland? our city in cold tones of beige and blue with the sun a hole into light in the sky.
currently spinning: self: cannon


scrapin' knees and growin' breasts.
their singing makes me want to shake my arse around and dance in pure bliss. the haze outside cleared up as the air seperates with people movement. the only light comes from the solitary desk lamp, radiating auburn onto a small circle of the floor.
abandoned playground swings shiver without hands grasping their long chain vines. and no one is outside because of the afterschool special on television. we are simple minded.
and we are brilliant.
currently spinning: the anniversary: husam husam


programming phasers for kill...
i set the goal at a page per hour. it's been two hours and i am on page one and a fourth. i'm willing to pay now.
my curves match the weathered rocks that have come to meet the flow of water and the rush of wind for longer than i have been in existence.
i am curious as to what makes you tick. what you are like inside and out.
currently spinning:forty second scandals: the fireworks, for now
engaging in domestic activities. let me make you waffles, crisp and caramel brown and fresh from heat. honey sweet melting with yellow butter cascading through the squares and dripping down the sides, flooding the plastic plate beneath.
we slept like babies last night, ignoring the highway and the passing trains. sunshine woke me up bright with fingered rays outstretched.
shower flows from the head towards the porcelain floor using my body as a means of transit. warm liquidy clear and sudsy. body blushed with heat marks and the mirrors fog up. i draw hearts on the steamed glass, wiping away the mist and leaving beaded droplets of water.
currently spinning: the nerdles: four-leaf clover


i guess i'm a guy's girl. a sexy one, nonetheless, but still one of the guys. i think i'm sexy. a lot of people do i guess, but they're the kind that want to get inside my pants or live like hundreds of miles away. i'm sure i could have it easy as a slut. but that's not me. makes me sad to know that all the real boys pay no mind to me b/c i'm so vulgar and so wild, so much like a boy. even when i wear the shirts that make people want to grab my breasts. i'm pretty straightforward when i dig someone, and if i'm not like, "hey, i like you" then i'll be making them cool presents or getting sassy. but they never pick up on that shit. and i'm starting to wonder how much it's worth it b/c i'm a cry baby, too. the ones i really like...i dunno. i keep telling myself that no matter how perfect he is that someone else out there is better b/c he'll want me too. and i have yet to find that. i hate being all sad about it. at the same time, i believe i control how i feel about a situation. but i'm probably getting something out of this so called suffering. i learn a lot when life's tough. and this is some petty ass tough.
currently spinning: tortoise: the equator


boys make gutteral growls when i walk by. hey, i'm just having a cheerful day. the sun shines down from the upstairs windows and hits me in the eyes. yellow and black chug along the train track bellowing while the breeze carries its' call across the neighborhood. books urban and friendly, me alone for the day. enjoying the bare branches and the few remaining leaves, the clear sky and the music coming from the stereo. i can sing with the windows rolled down. and now it's dark and i can see myself in the window reflected from the glowing screen. hair wild and smile big, all wrapped up with chin meeting knees and feet resting on the chair.


talking to you.
a phrase that makes me smile no matter who it comes from.
it's kind of dark outside with the sky overcast. tree bark sighs silently.
currently spinning: the mars volta: me


the bus ride home from our school field trip. i watched the sun create shadows on your face and the wind through the windows blew your hair out of place.
jovitas on the south east side. looks like a warehouse converted into a restaurant with few lights but good food and pretty murals. serve me chips y salsa, por favor. must have been office party night. let the thirty-fourty year old women get loose on the dance floor in front of a white singer who thrusts his pelvis at the ladies while wearing tight black jeans. god save me. the white men decide to "get funky" with the women, flailing limbs and nodding to the the beat as the women shimmy and twist excitedly. i swore that i would become them so i could look embarassing as i sipped the margarita i brought out onto the dance floor. yee-fuckin'-ha. we created scenarios for them...the women wearing the expensive black polo near the pole will not dance tonight. she sat there with her arms crossed and then out of nowhere she's dancing on the floor with one of her co-workers. we deduced that she has a monster crush on him. he is the only one that can get her to look so dumb and he doesn't even know it. and the cowboy across the room reckons some purdy lady or gentleman will ask him to dance. he'll tip his hat and consent.
i'm not in love with everybody, contrary to the popular belief. i find people beautiful in many ways. fixated on the possibility of seeing this beauty everyday is where it all comes from. i step back though...eventually...to appreciate it in a different way.


kick back with me on the couch and enjoy the music that's way too loud. i had fun with you guys tonight, matt and jc. coffee is yummy as we cover every topic imaginable. friendly eyes telling new stories. it's nice to know time can still fly by. soft hair and badass jackets.
two boys sat next to me in two different classes. i was able to keep an eye on them. one of them pumps out beats while hamlet is dying and the other makes me jealous with his jackets. i'm not the only one that noticed the cool jackets.
beyond our classroom breathes the lake. and while i sit indoors, i look outdoors. two people blowing dandelions picked from the field and joggers panting on the trail. much happier in a dreamy state than staring at a talking head.
currently spinning: ben folds: zak and sara


you've got me rollin around...
i feel like kicking things. even after six months, he still makes me miss him. i told you about zion i a year ago. but by then, you weren't really listening to anything i was saying anyway. the hurt tends to last a lot longer than the relationship.
i've got words to share with you but i whisper them at night when no one else is around.
my daddy works on an oil rig off the coast of louisiana. he wakes up to the sound of the ocean and the loss of oil from its heart. geometrics and angles of human construction, permanent on its bed of sand.
i need to be outdoors more.
my orange nightie track pants are almost falling off. does that turn you on? they've got a tiger on them. rwarr. i'll keep you warm. my belly is warm and full of good food. if you rest your head on my head, you'll get to hear my lungs inhaling and exhaling, you'll get to hear my heart pumping life through my veins. my skin will melt into yours and my eyes will droop into sleep. you need all my love tonight.
i'll imagine someone with me.
i wore hot orange glasses when i drove today. they made rainbows out of streetlights and headlights, and city lights in the distance rose up in colors in the sky. the colors got distracting. the lines in the roads were too white so i took them off. a police officer could have handed me some shit for causing an accident while i was distracted by the pretty colors.
currently spinning: the anniversary: tu whit (out tomorrow, baby)
i'm scared, i must admit.
i have way better sunglasses than mike ruiz...any day. cristinky and i got bored in english and resorted to drawing offensive pictures. we laughed we cried and ophelia went crazy. i like school because john malkovich is funny and so are vampires with long fingernails.
i found a dead moth today, behind my godzilla poster. he was brown, not anything like the butterfly people kissing on a postcard i was hanging up. when i was little, i took the dead bugs out in to the yard and buried them under leaves or in the dirt.
currently spinning: the shins: new slang


when one feels violent one rents fight club. smacks of sweating skin meeting gray concrete, leaving behind a residue of ruddied human cells.
give me an interesting angle to write about, brain and conversed feet. hamlet rests beside me in a closed book. and i draw a blank.
nothing that interesting has happened this weekend. we watched the movie in as pitch black as a house can be so the images of the story flashed not only in our eyes but also off the the furniture and picture frames. i lay on the couch parallel to the television and ben and micheal lay on the ground parallel to the television and each other. it made me slightly lonely but i figured i was lucky. at least my ideal boyfriend would not fall asleep during fight club and interupt us wth snoring.
i talked to travis last night. enough said there, i think. i guess i could add that he made me smile lots while i sat in the chair in front of the screen.
i wished again last night, at eleven eleven.
this morning the sun woke me up as we sat outdoors at a worn picnic table. pineapple orange juice with today as its' expiration date. even if i die , the fruitiness mixed with crispness of the outdoors breeze was worth it.
currently spinning: rahzel: if your mother only knew


merely observations:
your face seems smooth and creamy. chocolate dripping through your hair and shining in your eyes. your features gentle and subtle are your lips. my fingers reach out to touch what is not there.
you could wave to me a thousand times and it would never be good bye. face shadowed but glowing from heart and bright lights. are you staying warm this winter?
who likes my girlish figure that curves and breathes at the touch and lack there of? wrists and cheeks and waist, skin velvety and warm.
australian boy with waves sounding in his ears. the wind whispers to you, doesn't it? slip off worn in shoes so the sand may play with your toes. slip into the ocean and tell me what it tells you.
when it is cold like this, i wish to curl up, lost in printed page, next to someone. but as the flames in the fire place are imaginary so is he.
the pear tree stands barren in the browning front yard. arms and fingers stretched and frozen holding onto the few yellow leaves hugging thin branches.
currently spinning: cat stevens: the wind


damn, i'm awesome.
i just started my film class. nosferatu.
it was nice to see you vulnerable. i guess i'm the one that normally gets nervous.
lunch = fun as titties. tash and i shook our white bodies to the music and cristina laughed at us. i wanted to punch her. but instead i ate apples and oranges and baked ziti. food calms me down like the sweet hum of an engine. rev it baby.
i've just come back from squirting water onto the window behind me with a spray bottle. it trickles down in seperate paths. i wouldn't say simple pleasures for simple minds. if you tried it, you'd like it too.
travis told me something funny and admittedly meaningful when we were hanging out: "if i've learned anything from mcdonald's...it could happen."
i wear jeans a lot. in fact i'd feel safe saying i wear blue jeans three hundred and forty days out of the year. at least. they fade from indigo or bright blue and grow softer eventually going hol(e)y in the knees. i like to be wet in blue jeans...jumping into the pool or standing in the rain gazing upwards.
currently spinning: bright eyes: movement of a hand


sipping on iced mojo as the sunshines plays with shadows through the windows. the daylight keeps the smokers away from the graffiti'd coffee house i'm meeting him in. cusions slightly stained and crumpled but comfortable. i watch picturesque people while i wait. a symmetrical couple sitting across from each other and the man closest to me engrossed in the chronicle. he turns to me and we start talking about movies. and then travis enters. can't miss his orange shoes matching the orange shirt hidden by his tjmaxx hawaiin flowered shirt. he's got eyes that make me curious and a smile that makes me giggle. it had all the awkwardness and all the cheap shots as we talked about ourselves. our feet shared the table in front of our couch as we both drank our iced mojos and watched a couple guys playing pool two rooms away. our conversations kept us floating to topher's where the four of us chatted about wrestling, bad movies and hbo sex specials. i don't know how but somehow i kept him in the cold for an hour. while he was standing next to my car in the floodlight, i got him to blush when i told him i liked his smile. and we made plans for the next time he comes back from arkansas...camping on the beach or relaxing in shabby booths of my favorite places. i want to show him everything.
i won't say i like him like that yet.
but i had a lot of fun tonight, too.
you and me. a bernese mountain dog and a st. bernard.
do you ever just feel something that wants you to believe it's true? i wonder if it is...
currently spinning: dean martin: dream a little dream (of course a song like this would shuffle on)


the fake flowers don't cover up the dying plants illuminated with red neon.
currently spinning: superchunk: act surprised
i like leaving things in my pockets because finding what is inside weeks later is usually pretty exciting. like two dollars or like the three d glasses i found in my jacket today.
last night, trey hosted another benefit at his house. the chicken wire ranch is a good place for me. beer in system while hanging out with topher's little brother, travis. we rocked out to electric cock and watched batman and robin get it on from the line for the bathroom. i met some nice people last night who shared bizarre stories with me. and even though i might not see them ever again, it was all worth it. friendly smiles smirking at falling over drunk friends. pretty funny shizzat. travis and i are going to chill before he heads back to arkansas hopefully. i should give him a call. ben and mike of the wachs persuasion stood near the fire to keep our feet warm and our asses thawed. the smoke rose from the flames and into the sky. my body, my coat, my hair still smell like campfire wood even though i've stood underneath the jets of water. and the stills of stuck in the past headbangers, the deep persuasive stare of travis, topher's smile, rory's larger than life greeting, electric jesus art and vegan cookies ever present
ben and i have spent our days together quietly. each in a chair at the book store observing photographs. wandering around cheapos flipping through cds. while i socialize, he observes. last night, we talked about the possibility of new in our lives while listening to bad radio with the engine running.


he tried to teach me how to cha-cha as our tummies welcomed sweet cream with almonds ice cream.
if you could have anything from me, what would it be?
a lot of time.
as cliche as this practice is:
one: enjoy it while it lasts
two: overanalyzing shit is for suckers
three: regret is for suckers also
four: photograph the beauty and write about the rest
five: carpe diem
six: free yet aware


our skin feels like silk flowing together.
on the evening at emo's, the four of us overtook magnolia's. and as you sat across from me, our legs crisscrossed...your leg, my leg, your leg, my leg. our hands massaging the other's leg under the table. and i smiled, drinking from your coffee cup, as you winked at me from above the rim. at home, your eyes gave you away. our lips.
you followed me to the bathroom, leaving ben upstairs. and as the winter became warmer, our bodies in skin and blue reflected in the mirror. floppy black hair tickling bare neck.
but i don't want to be the one who makes you miss your girlfriend.
we drove around the texas hill country stopping for ancient mexican pepsi. you were quiet while ben and i sang to jimmy eat world.
new year's eve.
off work at eight and then dressed the part of classy new year's ho. not. i wore jeans and the sparkly pink polo from j. crew i got for christmas. it's the one occasion i'll wear something shiny. cookies and a sip of grolsch and scandalous stories.
caffeine high on colin's last mocha from eleven pm. and then at ben's, apple juice sounded sounded good and the mike forced korean tea on me. it's nice to see you throw yourself on the ground with laughter while ben and i roll on the bed looking at his junior high yearbooks. i screw computers with the three condoms. we practiced looking gay. mike can pass it off...and ben well, you're too straight. i gave massages and received one that caused crazy orgasmic faces. you're my princes while we sit on the counter.