cold fingers and cold toes parallel to the dark window. yesterday is today. the train bellows in motion, ever pressing on, as i must. but bleakness fills and nothing comes of it. change is inevitable, but do the sounds we make alter the path? allowing empty thought and slow reactions to keep occupied in space.
and i am leaning on the cabinet not for support of the body but for support of the drear.


the shimmer candles of the church flicker in the windows and glow yellow on praying faces. outdoors you can see their light remniscent of parking lot lights in patterns. but much more free.
yesterday was pretty face's birthday. lovely times and funny people. pirate patch in permanent marker red and ninja vs. dog episodes. eating cookies on a soft warm bed snuggled up in body warmth, staying toasty despite the freezing creeping underneath the window. i like to hear you talk.


web query:
24 Feb, Sun, 19:54:24 Google: kelly is hot
it's funny cuz it's truuuuue!
at my wedding, the "flower girl" will throw bottle caps and lit cigarette butts. "weddings are for crying!" she will shout before lunging at the patron's eyes with lit cigarettes. scary, huh?
she wasted money on pretty stickers with sparkles and fuzz. and i slipped in a sexy picture of cary grant so she had to pay for that, too. cary can grant me anyday.
i wanted to sip on some nyquil before bed b/c i've been having trouble thinking too much when i go to sleep. sweet foggy sleep.
we were bouncing to the same song in different cars.
i cried b/c i was upset. and i needed hugs from people that weren't here. alone in the mini, drowning in contemplation and ok computer.
today was a penuckle sandwich.
sad at what is lacking.
anticipating tomorrow?
currently spinning: starsailor: good souls


we like the cars that go boom and the bad history channel show about haunted historical places.
i want to lay(lie?) in a hammock with you while the sky creates puffy cloud works of art that we can name as a bear or a train or a dragon.
the moon drifts down under the rim of my window as hour grows later, shining like a spotlight on peaceful eyes and silent thought.
well, the sun, a single eye in a blue skinned face peers overhead with a watchful and tempting look.
ben and i rode the zilker zephyr, choo choo train of the park. little faces swivel around and smile only to hide behind daddy's back or be swooped into mommy's arms seconds later. too nice to be indoors.
yesterday, my tummy protuded a bit more than usual, full with greek food and conversation. shawarma with roasted chicken and stuffed grape leaves slick with flavored oil that leave a minty aftertaste and salty feta that i eat with my fingers. foreign silky and fresh to taste buds. outdoors the body meets the air with the same verocity of a cool breeze.
the outdoors plays aphrodisiac to winter body. and kites of multicolors soar high above reach. wind blown hair from wide open windows letting the sun and atmosphere into the car. later on, the shadows of tree leaves and people project onto and through the blinds while patterns of sun light the ground we walk upon.
martha stewart longs for lovin'. and you can see it in her eyes as she gets tipsy of fresh vineyard chianti. see that sexy hat that blows off in the breeze as they try to impress you with the information of how many yeast cells per ounce of wine. cook for me, dear martha.
last night, people got plastered listening to a band who's name you cannot write and you cannot say. smell of dust and pot and other people. hugs all around for people i rarely see. true, you had to bring your own cup for the kegs. but a little lovin' comes around. lighting your cigarette on a candle is hardcore, especially if it's citronella. drunk girl dances with soused old man who keeps getting harassed to turn his hat backwards. stinky and i kept a watchful eyeopen at all times. captain oiltanker gets you fucked up. nice to see the dark curls upon your head and the smile permanently attached to your face. someday i'll get my sparkly sweater back. and i'll rock it with the glittery pink socks. damn straight.
cristina talks to me with words i understand b/c i can totally relate. tee hee.
would you walk through fire for a twanky? twenty dollars for a one hundred foot cliff dive? would you? making me giggle late at night keeps me up until all hours. and i have animated thought tie instead of sleep b/c of you. but since it's you, i'll let it slide.
pow baby.


oh pretty blue sky that we sing about with acoustic guitars and drum beats.
dinner under mood lighting, i swear, b/c the room hummed in golden ambience. not only from overhead lightbulbs screwed into sockets, but from radiation of smiles and giggles and apples and rubbing hand on thigh. my home fries resemble a war zone according to ali. this girl loves ketchup.
the record store sold me a belle and sebastian ticket. imagining the late spring evening in technicolors.
damion speaks to me in a voice that coats the vision with brown sugar and roasting cedar. curled up while your mind rests, watching you sleep sexy in the shadows.
dogs always come at the right time, don't they?
currently spinning: beulah: popular mechanics for lovers


i am fan-fucking-tastictical.
anyone who says i do not rock the pool house should be molested. scratching on the break isn't too shabby especially if the ball bounces off the other side, breaks the numbered globe triangle and sinks a stripe.
i like warm skin when it is fifty degrees outside. and moonlight crawls in between bamboo blinds creating shadows on the blankets we hide beneath. it's nice to talk to silouetted damion about stuff and feeling safe and still being a sassy lady. and i kissed him.
blowing off animated worlds and lessons on the motions of sound waves for jitterbug perfume (tom robbins). nice to be lost in someone else conceived in eight point font.
the breeze outside screams of the tropics, i swear. the temperature has been a' risin', perfect hammock weather. kickin' back with something fruity that is not ben aqua underneath early spring sun. we sat around metal tables eating food with cheese components (ham and cheese sandwich, cheese pizza) and sipping from a soup spoon (chicken noodle and minestrone) laughing about mispronunciations and my new persona. a bird swept down from the rafters, looked us straight in the eyes and stole joe's cookie. he accused me of eating it. flip flops and baggy cords, taking off the long sleeve shirt so bare arms meet the air and kiss of the sun. no fresh green leaf buds quite yet. but i break off parts of the vine wrapping up the sides of the wall. peeling back the brown bark reveals virginal green life blood.
puddles caused by the dripping of juices of the mind and tears streaming from a beating crimson heart. and puddles creating steam that rise off the sun soaked concrete, and steam swirls and causes misty eyed clouds to form.
currently spinning: joan of arc: me and america or the united


i really feel like downing some codeine enhanced cough syrup. i'm not even coughing but my throat itches and i need a high.
all that b.s. builds up, even the small shit, so i get frusterated and imagine punching my fist, wimpy as it may be, through a glass window and watching the blood trickle down in red streams. and i'll be soothed.
conclusion: waking up early gives me too much time to think
i didn't want to leave the shower b/c my winter body was meeting summer water.
currently spinning: dntel: umbrella
damion and i on the interstate with the windows rolled down and traffic moving slowly. what a rockstar. i smile when you sing along softly, like i'm not supposed to hear you or maybe you're in private damion land. and you probably are. i liked meeting mom. rocks near the river are cold solid on our arses. holding hands by the water that reflects the overhanging trees and partially clouded sky. the sun peeks out and brightens your face. baby, if sonic isn't sexy i don't know what is.
it's the imperfections that make something perfect.
jimmy ate the world last night. and the kiddos busted out their lighters and i laughed. for me, this is heaven. sweetness the best with green lit figures contrasting with magenta lit hands.
and gabe from midtown touched my retainer!!!!! oh my godzzz!!! (gabe is ben's buddy). if i had been one of those people, that ask to take a way overexposed flash pictures of rockstar around the shoulder and wants their cd and maybe their chest signed , i could have fainted.
baby, your pussy be like a now and later. i know i want some now, but i don't want none of dat later if youz get pregnant or some shit.
i am genius.
mint and rosehips tea with honey. red and steamy like our love, baby. queso queso and potatoes. oh dinner at midnight on vinyl booths. an all night diner.
currently spinning: neutral milk hotel: in an aeroplane over the sea


pesto penne pasta, creamy with parsley and pinenuts. wooden table under a barren tree and a blue sky. i like to see their smiles as we sit together for lunch. i started a food fight. and i created the climax. would anyone else like juicy kiwi skin rubbed on their face? "i'm gonna squash you." bad pun on the part of ben black who threatened me with a fork catapult on top which rested a half slice of bright yellow steamed squash. and lizzie handed me a pink and white and green tulip. the inside was all sexy with dark and scattered pollen.
last night was my night with damion. i like to be all curled up with you, keeping warm under blankets and wrapped up in your arms: shelter from the cold air slipping in through the hole in the window. toothbrush shenanigans and a badass balsa wood glider plane complete with pirates and affirmations of my coolness. blanket caves and built to spill on college frat radio. my shirt smells like you.
currently spinning: presidents of the united states of america: peaches


up too late last night with pretty magazine pages, glue sticks and demented drawings that form a spin off of rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead.
hells yeah.
what a beautiful day with beautiful people dancing to the rhythm of their heartbeats that beat through their inner ear and into the pavement so the life pulses of others collide into a chaotic cacophony.
rear window viewing.
the art building downtown houses the photos of southern eloquence and prejudice and simplicity and beauty. we see ourselves and our past through the faces and objects of others.
thank you, sweet girl, for sending me a carnation of red on a day of expressed and inked love.
tonight, i will travel to your house and make you smile. lush is life and lavish in love.
and i look cute like carly simon in mocha brown and soft tan meeting indigo. no cliche of pink or red (unless panties count).
currently spinning: starlight mints: popsicle


being sick can't be too bad. it's not my fault you wanted me to try your juice.


holy shit. it's monday.
today, mish polnac taught us that comedy is based on irony. yesterday, there was a comedic factor when i heard someone exclaim, "oh my god, we should get these for cancun." life is delightful when i take out the factors of pure hell. actually, i'm starting to sound like someone i don't want to sound like. will the court please disregard that statement?
there are plenty of things to be happy about...
number one) stinky vasquez and makin' collages at one in the morning watching moulin rouge and talking about gaseous emissions
number two) damion...he rocks the carpet hardcore style
number three) the fact that necrophilia stands for "love of the dead" or, as i like to call my medieval metal band, "dead love"
number four) i got sent home from work for misbehavin' on the busiest night everzzzz
number five) the eighties kodak shirt i found thrift store shopping
number six) even when people yell, i can still have a smile plastered on my face. and when i cry i laugh at the same time so i look crazy and that makes me happy
number seven) pretty colors and good music
currently spinning: the american analog set: the only one


night means that cars turn on their bright light and wait to follow the repetitious pattern of red yellow and green. and emily and i watch from a wooden balcony overlooking the constructioned road while she drinks chai and i sip hot chocolate with whip cream. cold cold wind and glowing wax candles. we sit outdoors.
SmarterChild: I don't need to eat. I'm a machine.
greenkiss: that's so deep.
i <3 robots...
greenkiss: how old are you?
SmarterChild: I'm very young and learning new things every day.
"i don't have any real friends, just robots. i only have robot friends, stupid. i talked to smarter child all day." -stinky l. vasquez
getting ready to spell out words in alphabet noodles in tomato sauce. i like the meatballs the best. that stuff could be grade f and i'd still eat it.
i got sent home from work for bad behavior. i'm happy b/c now people won't ride my ass for popcorn b/c they are late for the new arnold movie. i rarely getting assish to people that don't know me very well, but i have to do it every once in awhile to spice things up.
it's a little cold, so i'm going to eat my delicious dinner.
currently spinning: les savy fav: hide me from next february


at the requeat of the esquire herself:
stinky is sick. cry for her, oh followers. cry for me b/c that dirty girl could have given me her diseases. so when your tummy hurts, blame her. when your throat burns or you sleep twenty hours in a weak state, blame c.l.vasquez.
steam pirouettes off dark water while the two of us watch from a concrete bridge. your ears are cold but as our faces meet, we exchange warmth. and the shivering stops. i like it when you attack my face with your hands and i fight back half assedly b/c we all know i secretly enjoy it. you can fill me with words and kisses and you. i only hope i do the same. play smog and sigur ros while we lay in silence or find weak spots and beauty. wrapped up in conversation with football chocolate and whataburger fries. it was nice to share a glass of water and enjoy damion shadows.
currently spinning: sigur ros: olsen olsen


braid stole my words when they said "i'm glowing and you're the reason why."
we shared puffy popcorn.
i can smell him on my fingertips. he makes me happy b/c he's smartandsaucy,classyandsarcastic...and gentle after midnight. curling up in warm sheets wishing it was warm you telling stories to help sleep meet dreams.
i woke up at twelve thirty today b/c i did not want to go to school. it's drippy outside and dark with soaked wood and soil. smells fresh and old and damp. black and white movie flickers light onto my resting face as i lay on the couch. cold, oh so cold.
currently spinning: dntel: the dream of evan and chan


i am eating mini marshmellows and pretzels.
tonight, a woman sat on a maroon booth reading a romance novel at texadelphia. i kept her in the corner of my eye sometimes wondering what she does in her life. i talked to cristinky about being "e-z green" and how sad boys can make me. but we still laugh about it, b/c it's all proposterous.
and damion is coming over soon. he'll knock on the door and i'll answer it. he called my a communist today and i laughed and told him i had my austin communist commitee meeting tonight. he's the one with the bombs that blow our buildings up. what a match.


mmmm. oven fresh and custardy bread pudding as i talk to you.
many of the non-interesting stories i could tell come from work. i practiced my new signature. professor "kelly green" evil. weapons of many kinds were placed at the end of each evil. an ice pick and a gun come to mind. i also signed, dr. kelly green, professional badass. if you're laughing, it is because it is true and you know and you've just realized how witty and adorable i am (even with such a horrendous nickname).
my night was day early yesterday. spinnin' pennies and thumb wrestling with damion. and evan shares his migas as i share my syruped french toast. they took away my scuzzy booth seats and replaced them with new vinyl. i am quiet as i listen to boasting of beauty, the perks of big un-pancakelike breasts and singing along. i am so a boy b/c i do listen. wearing soft blue sweater that still smells of you, new boy. the four of us hovering over a table reminds me of nick drake in the golden single lightbulb or cap'n jazz in spinning fan colored light. i imagine our eight legs jutting out under the table with a formica top and wobbly base.
currently spinning: beatles: do you want to know a secret


i like peaches in the summer. when you can buy them off the side of the road from wooden shacks or the backs of pick up trucks. and they're golden like the sun and you're jealous. juicy yellow fuzzy peach skin and blushing auburn peach pit drip with yummy.
and the cold outside blows through my sweatshirt with red racing stripes. my ears stay warm and muffled beneath a space invaders beanie. i like my hot chocolate to go in a paper cup. hot cocoa powder and milk melt whipped cream so it blends into creamy warmth. mmm. it's on par with chicken noodle soup steaming from the spoon.
i want to be mates of state happy.
they smile when they sing to each other.
currently spinning: beulah: if we can put a man on the moon than surely i can win your heart


quackers (a.k.a damion) said i am sharp like a petrified carrot.
new nicknames: princess poops-a-lot and professor murder.