3.30.2002

it kind of sucks when an eleven year old can hurt you more than anyone else. stink's sister is the bomb-diggity. i am a rockstar b/c i ate candy i found on the ground. put that in your pipe and smoke it.
and i'm popping birth control pills b/c it means something now. maybe i should say something deep about growing up while i sit in the roll-y chair, hair slightly frizzed and loose. i got my new license in the mail, and it's weird b/c it doesn't look like me.
would you still love me if i wrapped gold tape around my body?
we watched bring it on and bridget jones' diary last night after midnight b/c we're crazy. but it was funny good times. i like to walk around in my skivvies, but not really when it's cold outside.
jesus, mary and joseph.

3.29.2002

it's a golden crisp morning. i'm dressed enough to not get dressed. and shakin' my arse to the spring grooves of beulah. what a beautiful day. damion is delightful underneath glow in the dark stars and underneath a gra(e)y, blue and purple striped blanket. cozy with the fan on high. he turned me into a puddle last night.
currently spinning: beulah: disco
we all know ben was smart, but did your tiny brain ever realize that he is a story telling mastermind?
Me and Jean-Claude (van Damme) are walking along, and we're in the desert, so it's real hot. So I see this cave, and I'm like "Let's go in there and take a rest." And he's all "Nah, we shouldn't, I'm afraid of the dark." All of a sudden, these ninjas jump out of nowhere, and he's a big pussy and shit, and he screams. I kick the ninjas' asses, one by one, and we leave. I'm all "Let's get outta here." So we leave, and we go into this little restaurant, and he gets a napkin cause he scraped his elbow. I get some root beer and crackers, and we eat and leave. We're walking down the street, and this guy comes up and says, "Hey, I know you." And Jean-Claude is all "Yes, I was great in Sudden Death." And the guy says, "No, you're Ben Redder!" And Jean-Claude starts crying, and runs away. So this guy is Indiana Jones' brother, Iowa. And we start hangin' out, and he teaches me how to use the whip, like Indy, and we start going on adventures. Then he introduces me to his sister, Montana. Montana Jones is one fine piece, I must say. So me and Montana start having adventures, and we look for buried treasure, everyday. But the whole time, Iowa is trying to steal my gold watch.I kicked Iowa's ass, fucked Montana in the ass, the end.
critic's commentary: it's funny cuz it's true! jean claude is a pussy! genius, fuckin' genius. this kid should have a books hidden underneath every american's mattress.

3.28.2002

tonight the one act taught that perhaps the reason we remember love is because we must mourn its' death.
the house is steamy and silent underneath the chords played in time on the speakers.
we make new friends out of restaurant waiters that serve us water in plastic glasses and chips on paper. and that ska impression makes people laugh, b/c we really are pretty dumb.
change is constant. and there are people who sing as if it is the end of the world. the faces will change into wrinkles of age or wisdom and the hands will fill with lines that remember every touch of the past eighty years.
orange and blue light make white. red and green light make yellow. texture for the eyes.
et still rocks cristina's penis breath. and i think i was the only one laughing when he was found in the river. those kids are so indie rock. it's rock and roll to be chased by cars while on a bike.
currently spinning: david singer: i need to be able to see you

3.25.2002

well daddy and i sang "billie jean" with the windows down and peeked into antique shops.
a little kitty has invaded his house. i want to call him momo.
do you like it when i kill the mood?
damion and i kissed in the moonlight on his bed. i like the smell of your body and the smoothness of our skin together.
a streetcar named desire. i'm mitch with a southern accent. wish i could be a faded southern belle or a timid new orleans wife, but we know the best people get screwed. i just try to sex it up with blanche.

3.24.2002

so i am eighteen now. woke up early with a headache knocking on my door.
we made play-doh teeth of brown and pink and silver while stinky made brown turds for four hours straight. tiramisu with totoro and multicolored burning candles thin like spaghetti. and i blew them all out. vanilla ice cream on a paper plate. adventures in babysitting commenced on the screen; i guess we felt nostalgic or wanted something good to watch. candy bubbles with lovage pulsing its' sex beats.
dinner for seven with conversations about ways to be a delinquent with a black marker mustache causing a scene in a restaurant, b/c that's what the cool kids do. a table with italian food and the bread goes fast. and i ask you to direct focus to me b/c i'm the birthday girl and i deserve all attention. the whole restaurant sung to doug and i and we pretended to be siblings. the doctor exclaimed,"oh shit!" when my mother came in to have me eighteen years ago.
i am tina's girl. ben and i made our way down sixth street noting "clubbing shoes" as we walked towards emo's. jel and why? set forth beats into luscious black night while audience sways in mesmorized stance . my attention span is short so i walk outdoors and onto a bench where black painted wood meets blue jean ass with a shock of cold. indoors i was sweaty. cloudead brings on something primitive, something tribal and artistic. i succumb to the way my body moves as the bass rattles my chest and slides down to the floor. they gesture on stage as they rap something beyond our capacity. my body bounces and glides as an object and i get urges to feel on myself. ben and i agreed you could have wild alien sex to cloudead.
and damion came over afterwards. my present at two in the morning. and i fall asleep with him wrapped around me. woke up with the sun and a soft boy and it was golden. i made coffee he didn't drink that still sits in the pot dark liquid brown smelling bitter but sweet. but i kissed him good morning and good bye and that was new.
currently spinning: eels: get ur freak on

3.22.2002

my brain is still awake when my body is asleep. and it's this constant struggle to keep eighty thoughts outside of my head so i can sleep sleep sleep. in bed for nearly an hour with the lights off and eyes dash about the room as if possessed by a goddamn rabbit. i hate not being able to sleep b/c then the focus leads me to concentrate on the texture of the sheets that grow uncomfortable and scratchy and hot with body friction. mind flies like tiny airplanes in the sky that leave trails of smoke messages behind.
i think something is up with your itchy palm, damion.
wrapping stars in twine and bringing them to your eyes. awww. remember when george threw a lasso around the moon?
my fingers are cold. and so is my arse. holes below back pockets are rock and roll if you like to look like a hooker. and i don't want to. but i'm too cheap to buy new ones.
i've got liar written on my arm in permanent black marker.
i want to eat strawberry jam with a spoon.
three blocks away and i bought milk from the corner store. there were price tags written in markers, not just typed on white stickers. the store smelled of fruit and grain. the aisles small and cozy so one could curl up in the grocery store.
great muppet caper with pigs climbing the walls of number seventeen highbrow street. curled up on the couch with damion after midnight. i am so down for the cowboy hat conditions.

3.19.2002

mistletoe is the best band in the entire world. you should love them as much as you love your mom or your dog or your next door neighbor. spread the love, sugar.
"i was feeling very distant before but i feel all good and kellyish now. ever since i woke up this morning. i think i just needed some timetime."
"and you gotgot some b/c i'm a stellar fantastic lady."
and it's true. i <3 damion and I <3 myself. b/c who wouldn't love me?
rain clouds obscure the moon tonight. when i took my nap on flannel sheets in my mother's high key bedroom it was merely a drizzle and i awoke to stormy drops barraging the tin roof. i like to talk about my tin roof b/c it makes sounds that remind me of home.
a train riding tracks creates a doppler effect of longitudinal mechanical sound waves.

3.18.2002

when kelly is not cleansing herself in the shower with a plus sign shaped soap while listening to rap about numbers you might find her discussing the art of fellatio with her good friend, ben of the aqua persuasion, while overlooking the city. laugh girls laugh.
i like rocket ships that fly in the sky and make boom clouds of smoke.
like that?
currently spinning: mistletoe: one wish

3.17.2002

damn, my mama cooks some good food. i like to drool that corned beef.
well life is not the same when i'm not around, is it?
we drive up the shore at dusk, put up our tent and promptly fell asleep.
i awake before the sun does (before anyone else does) and find myself alone in the car, book open halfway. eyes droop yet again so i sleep. the sun never did come out. the whole time we were there the sky dripped with fog and humidity. but we are happy with feet in the sand and recoiling from cold waves. walking the beach with sandy feet and worn in blue jeans, hoodie zipped up noticing fallen monarchs and white moths with orange speckles on their thorax, tiny winged shells and gelatenous jelly fish. the water foams as it approaches its' receding. and jessica and i whisper in a nylon cloud. i dunno, raver gossip and party stories crack me up to no end. i love that girl. who else would spend four beach trips creating interpretive dances like "the crab" and "the wind" and "buxom beach babe". something about the flailing about of limbs in a flashlight spotlight while the sky trickles down in tiny sprinkles. we giggle because we look dumb and boys try to pick us up near the port-a-potty. hot pink frisbee until we hop in the car again. lovely.
currently spinning: roots manuva: strange behavior

3.15.2002

i remember walking outside and my skin shivered in the sun.
ali and i braved the downtown alleys, garbage dumpster and stagnant puddles. while we photographed sixth street urban america, corporate america met the underground in a mingling of sxsw. it was bright, shading eyes with hands and sunglasses. and as we passed the benches of people waiting for buses, we became the ones followed. ali and i must be getting sexy in our non-single status b/c new mexico's mistletoe followed us to ask for directions a block after the pursuit began.
mellow and i kept you in the bedroom. your face in mood lighting and i've got the giggles. like i said, "rollercoaster of emotion", a three hundred and sixty degree spin. i'm eating that damn chocolate pie and getting crumbs all over the bed. i like when pirates pillage the booty. sorry (sort of) that i kept you to myself. and i hope you could tolerate the "crass" remarks during star wars.
yesterday, we took our money and went for snowcones. pink lemonade and sweet tea with lime drenching the powdery ice. pack it on the spoon and it melts in your mouth. we watched the kites fly from the rock in zilker park. the breeze whips hair around and emily makes funny comments. tash spits her listerine (see tongue ring care) out with pizazz and stink complains of a flip flop tan. if you didn't wear them all the time, professor, you wouldn't get tans like that. now on congress, store hopping. terra toys with playmobil obsession. tash's wet dream. stink and i anticipate when the two ladies come out of the dressing rooms wearing fancy pants vintage dresses. lovely day. blame the nasties on the sxsw people infiltrating the city. i got my chimichanga alright.
the air to moist with humidity and the wind to quick for lit matches. we took sparklers to the foundation and danced with the crackling explosions of color.
when the three of us get together ali questions what people would think if they saw us. i have to admit the genie dances and the stories told behind closed doors could give others the willies. pretzels with honey and strawberry preserves, crazy sludge juice, and spinach balls.
thank you for coming over late, pretty face. we went to the foundation also. the city with a tint of halogen and neon trapped by the cloudy sky. the wind runs like water, crickets chirp and the music from below wafts up to our ears. i'm busy focusing on my own words and watching you think like an emo boy (haha). there are two sparklers that i lit with stolen matches, one for you and one for me. i like to sit with you. people have been here before leaving their marks...beer cans and papers and graffiti'd poetry. and i talk about the beach. rolling hills surrounding the van with trees and it's quiet with elliott smith. and then we juxtapose this with the pastels and brights of taco cabana. eatin' queso with my main squeeze says concubine.
i'm horrible with good-byes, and you know it b/c of stubborn stalling. i wish the last ten minutes weren't timed. and then we could sleep together, side by side.
the conscious and the dream become intertwined when i stay up late or wake up early. did you say you had changed your mind or was that in my sleep?
the car is being loaded with forms of entertainment and the trailer with sleeping bags and a tent. away we will drive from the concrete city. the beachin all its' glory. once a year with jessica, fires and dances in the moonlight and surf. gone until sunday.
currently spinning: convocation of...: recognize

3.13.2002

he calls me sexy kelly to the tune of sexy sadie.
no one says whee anymore.
stink and I used to get bored sometimes and we made up stories like this. the sad part is, they’re true. or are they???
so this one time i saw allen and josh and they were naked and they were wrestling like the men on tv my mommy tells me not to watch but i do it anyway. so iasked them if they were having fun and if allen was winning b/c he was on top. but allen told me to shut up so i asked josh if he liked to wrestle and maybe he could wrestle me sometime but he ignored me. so i walked away, but then i hid and kept watching and josh started screaming, so i got scared allen might have hurt him so i ran over. and allen got mad cuz he knew i was spying and he slapped me and i ran away and cried.
currently spinning: starsailor: good souls

3.12.2002

fried chicken and malt liquor. gettin' a little surly for tash's eighteenth. watching johnny dance in his own world, making me smile as the fan spins around and ludacris "rolls out", the bass pulsing the ground beneath us. i <3 this lady. we talked about my boobies and read cheesy albeit interesting loss of virginity fiction from porno mags. the sparklers spell out the bursts of flames and cackle of fizzy sparks in green and yellow. kicking back on colored sheets laughing about dumb things.
lunch by the lake, spoiled by the lovely weather and yummy tummy food. we take evan's altima, the altima. sweet lord are we lucky for that ride. a man named bear with giant earlobes pierced tash's tongue as we stood by and watched. smelled of sterilization and you could see her body trembling. but she's hardcore, nonetheless.
work sucks, but that's not news. i spiced it up a little tonight. many of you missed my lovely trash bag gown which became a skirt. prancing around creating billows. and something about driving in a car listening to god awful britney spears and the manager doing a duet. slave for you my ass...try hooker for the masses.
currently spinning: outkast: aquemini

3.10.2002

my fingers stick to my keyboard. because there is crap all over it. like jelly. and body fluid. asterisk buttholes.

3.09.2002

i've got marks from last night and colored sprinkles in the car.
"i hope they have a lizzie mcguire where she has sex and we can watch." -cristinky on her wishes for a "special" episode until she realized what she said and we laughed for thirty hours.
it's sunny outside but the sun warms me here as the wind chills me outdoors.
i wonder if there is something i can write about for pages, that endless flow of thought and mystique. take on me, my friend. i used to want to play guitar really badly. but i've got a problem called laziness, so i never learned. that, and i'm scared to play in front of other people. i can write about the drugs i've never taken in order to feel better. feeling coked out and reeling in spinning lights or wading through the air with sound waves like water waves pounding against my body, the surf. i've got jesus painting my roof red and the paint drips off like blood from a crucifix. soak it up in the soil growing rosy in time and heaving with life. spawning life, filling parchment with images of knotted wood and black printed letters forming words in other languages that hit spinning eyes with hurricane force of misinterpretation. moves on the dance floor angle geometrically tangent to the grand scheme of things like the penetration of the hoover dam by liquid power forming sexual electricity. static attraction by rubbing two things together. and when the fire dies down, the tattoos of ash and burning remain behind until decomposition. let the fingers stream down the bare of the back to the chasm. rolling around in oil paints till the skin takes on different forms and the gooiness holds our bodies tight together.
for johnny: sorry cuts it. someone as stunning a friend as you can get away with a sorry b/c would we really have been that good of friends if we couldn't forgive? and i do.
currently spinning: belle and sebastian: simple things

3.08.2002

well bro, velveeta shells and cheese is for the rich priviledged kids. i'm your average joe bustin' out that mac and abnormally yellow cheese. those damn shells are for special occasions (i.e. graduation, marriage...i can see it now..."what, you're engaged??!! this calls for the velveeta!") in my family.
the road stays the same but differs in the different daylights. road signs grow familiar and i can recognize the distance between us based upon billboards. passing junk yard, red muddy soil from construction and flashing lights on the way to something, someone natural.
i stayed home for senior skip day. stinky, tash and jess danced into my living room with a longing for donuts. so we went.
i got to wake my pretty face early this afternoon while the clouds created pungent rainy smells and caged in the humidity. under sheets beside bamboo curtains but closest to you. pirates make me randy...aarrrrr. we sat outside during nature's debate of of wet or dry , wet or dry. a tiny spattering of heaven sent droplets teased the soil while we watched from the porch swing, your head in my lap.
currently spinning: piebald: giddy like a schoolgirl

3.07.2002

what my padre said:
Yes I'm proud, damn proud. HooYaa !!! You will do well and kick butt in the
mighty University of Texas School of Fine Arts campus in Austin, God's Country
Texas. Here is to becoming a more cultured, sophisticated, and productive
person. MY Kelly! beamingly yours, Dad

3.06.2002

i got in! slid open the envelope and "congratulations..."

3.05.2002

i had to listen to someone talk about how they didn't understand that someone else could be attracted to the same sex. and i really felt like a shoving my boot up their asses.
dismemberment plan can moonwalk up and down your ass, motherfucker. damn, that guy has moves like beck. and it makes me hot.
i took the liberty of buying myself a bucket hat for the beach. khaki and perfect to keep the eyes shaded from the sun. oh, the beach life. campfires at dusk and starlight at dark. and when the sun rises so does my body. waves like a painting an explosion onto canvas.
currently spinning: kylie minogue: can't get you out of my head

3.04.2002

caterpillars are funny. and their bodies move like contagions. i feel sad b/c i think kitty just ate one.
dance ben kweller. and sing to us like a spicy elliot smith. i like it when little boys pounce on their keyboards and manuever their guitars like there is no tomorrow. by this time, arms kept tounching me when others applauded b/c we were packed like sardines.
the anniversary loves austin. and i love the anniversary for their pretty songs and their pretty music that makes me want to shake my hips. sing with breathy voices and shout with all your might. variations on the themes of prior albums building and waning like the waves of the ocean.
it's fun to laugh in the back of the classroom b/c teacher keeps making sounds to demonsrate how the human can only reach a small range of pitches. interesting lady. if i were a teacher (like i used to want to bein elementary), i'd be entertaining. the one who jokes penuckle humor and loans out music. and i say shit a lot, b/c it makes me giggle. we used to make tiny folders out of construction paper and hand them out to our animals and dolls. i bought a chalkboard to write the letters upon.
today, under stink's influence and due to the eighteen wheeler with a missing front bumper parked horizontally down the middle of the highway, we rode the grassy knoll to the frontage road. you wish you were as rock and roll as us.
johnny invited stink and i to play keyboards at the music store. my head aches from undulations, imitation moog bass, and created chords but i made happy music and scary music.
currently spinning: the dismemberment plan: respect is due

3.03.2002

wearing men's white long johns to keep my stems warm in freezing weather.
do you remember jumping just before the elevator stopped trying to catch some free air? i did it again.
i took an afternoon nap for three hours and woke up.
honk honk. havin' a roni (row-knee) in the midnight hour with a bowl of queso (k-so) with the boy of aqua persuasion. that's right i'm funny.