6.30.2002

i want a boy who will take me to watch the sun set.
i know what soil smells like. and it's rich enough to sink in and cover pale shivering skin.
jurassic cosmonaut.
miss me miss me?
american officials would never publicly apologize.
what is it to lay in the grass with their arm resting on your tummy? look at the sky and tell me what you see. the train still passes...more at night b/c that is when the neighborhood is asleep. or most of it. not me. i am wide awake with thoughts dripping throughout my head. the ragged bear on the mattress hunches over. sweating is imaginary. strain and flex the muscles underneath the skin. my back is sore.
restless night with tossing and turning underneath a blanket that takes quite a beating. and everytime i awoke the noise grew louder.
bright eyes and big words fill with emotion the interior.
someone knocked out the squares in the garage door and filled them with windows. face inches away from ceramic mug held between my fingers. paintbrush with kelp and aqua paint to cover white.
i want to hold your hand.
according to my father, radio rap/hip-hop has the attitude that "i am the biggest baddest mother fucker on the planet, bitch." ahh what i learn.
everything is wet and dripping and saturated. and a voice carries meaning into being alone.

6.29.2002

pure fuckin' rubbish and a little dance dance. see the wide eyes open. poetry in gasoline. got the reference? gas money twenty in the side pocket and stolen cherry soda. strain the voice with screaming. can you see the difference, can you really see the difference? it gets dark quickly. with jutting hip bones, she maneuvered through the crowd. and the kid is still standing there by the bikes, contemplating which one to steal with slick quick fingers. table for four. two drinks same beverage. ginger lemon lime echinacea. good for the sinuses. slippery skin from dashing between the droplets of plastic coated liquids. and naked pictures float down from temporary home in the air. seen it all yet? bare skin and inviting eyes. behind the retinas there is more. synapse to synapse. electric flash of recognition. so what was two nights ago? graffiti'd on the wall with colored dripping spray paint was your name. but i cannot read. pretend to be ambidextrous to impress the girls. are you in denmark waiting for me? outdoors is blue and black. black and blue. waiting for the room to grow golden and reddish. two plus two equals one in this case. oh, it hugs in all the right places. bruised egos versus blushing cheeks. it grows hotter. freshly sharpened pencil. to a point in graphite. tighten the hold on the compass with two arms. and one circles the other like the poet john donne. doom told me true soldiers push through the pain. lay your head on the table and things move slower. don't they? shake a wet tree and the water comes down on you. turn the lights down low. watch potted flowers blossom in damp night air. and man behind the curtains, kiss me hard. i'll keep my eyes closed. but feel a face with trembling lips and hands tied behind my back. the pink is innocent and does not bleed on the paper. but it's on my fingerprints. the small of the back calling you home.
my arms are cold and my back is bare. the sky is falling in pieces. and stubborn tears in the corners of two red downcast eyes. the window open stirring moving thoughts in the back of my mind until they cloud up and muddle the road i am driving. like fog i am floating. above the ground is sullen. the strings grow in volume. become more taut as heart strings stretched across ripped knees. bloodied in the process. it sounds damp.
and lonely.
your voice like melting honey into warm red tea. darling darling darling. the first time i swooned. giggling and smiling while lying on the floor, phone perched at ear. the happiness was in my eyes for you.
funny how things happen.
it rained here, too. the sky gray...heavy and metal poles reach like frail arms to low hanging clouds. at first, it was a spatter of droplets on the windows of the car. a single drop bursting into tiny circular patterns or dotted streaks and then the window grew into a stream of constant water flowing down the windshield.
the lightening continued long after the rain stopped. and the sky crackled with electricity in forks or light explosions in the sky.
well well well
highlights for the day:
going grocery shopping for snack food on mom's money and purchashing:
dreyer's limited edition powerpuff mint chip ice cream with chocolate powerpuff girls
and
yobaby yogurt.
ahh the modern life.

6.27.2002

i got bored and went to hello kitty's tea party...what an extravaganza!
i like honey with my milk.
man, the cheesy tortilla is delicious.
so alison had me drop her off on a date. it's nice to know why people really care.

6.25.2002

a letter i wrote to a special friend:
i'm sorry it takes me so long to write back. the june sun has drained all of my energy like it drains the water from the soil and the streams. damion and i broke up. it's something new to deal with. i care about that boy a lot and i'll always want to see what he becomes. in the absence of the majority of my friends this summer, i've grown into more of an observer...watching people interact with one another when i am in the shadows as a wallflower. you don't comprehend what it means to find you waiting in my box. i am scared to take the plunge the drop from many feet above the cold and waiting water. i find myself stumbling into new situations and finding what is comfortable. if someone was there...
i signed up for my classes at the university earlier this month. art history three oh three, three dimensional design, drawing one and biology: molecules to microorganisms. i cannot draw. i've never been able to. but i'll concentrate for four hours straight twice a week.
sigur ros is the most beautiful sound that helps me feel happy and content with life. i found the cd in the used section at waterloo waiting for me. when i slip it into the cd player, i slip into a different conciousness. i imagine them to be the sound of wind and love and waves. what music makes you feel beautiful?
when i was growing up, all i listened to was the oldies station. that's probably why i'm such a decent person. why i'm way too romantic for my own good. but at least i'm happy. i danced a lot when i was younger. jumping up on the coffee table to the pointer sisters or the beach boys. my two favorites. don't worry baby just shuffled onto the playlist and i hope everything does work out.
earlier this week, my best friend alison and i persuaded her boss to throw us a party. the outcome, there were five of us. that was the party. i had a shot of vodka with grenadine and triple sec. and i felt nauseous right afterwards. i'm not big on drinking. i had met her boss once and he tried to makeout with me. that's why i get scared.
have you seen y tu mama tambien? i want you to. it is beautiful.
it's not that i don't want to talk to you. it's that i am becoming more and more cautious with whom i love. sometimes i seem to be the one that gets hurt for caring too much.
it was there that i saw you.
have you ever seen me?

6.23.2002

stank-o got me addicted to hot hot heat. she's promoting, i'll promote. these guys are hot and turbo rock and roll.
alison and i pulled something out of a teeny bop movie last night. it's nice to not be fully clothed in front of the camera.
his room surrounded us with windows and televised blue light coming through the blinds from the other room.
the sky moved like inky waves pounding upon buzzing streetlights that attracted a plethora of flying insects.
he's a nice boy. they sent me away with a blank check so they could makeout. and that's what i told the guy behind the counter. i got a strawberry smoothie, pinkish and bubbly with little seeds in a tall glass cup.
too much talking...not enough making out.
lady lady lady lady. coconuts smell good. my daddy has lighting gels on the window so the backyard of someone else's house looks completely red, completely orange, completely blue or completely magenta depending upon where you are looking. once he told me i could paint a robot on the bathroom wall. i never did get around to that.
i want to be in love. oh dude, i just found like a turbo highlighter. nothing like shading with a colored pencil. nope.
garden hose lovers that play in the sprinklers. and they blow kisses to each other from across the street.
i'm being nicely conditioned in the house. conditioned in the air sense. not pavlov style.
precious baby leopards. fifty two: he has to like baby animals.
if i were a nomad in the deserts of africa, what would i know? would i be smarter than i am here?
baby up for a little love thunder? aww yeah.
contours of the face half glowing with halogen light and half dark in the shadows. it's easy to wrap up in the blankets that lay gently upon the body like smooth hands or subtle breeze. they create dunes from soft hip to mattress and curl at the neckline raising and falling in honey colored light.

6.21.2002

when will i find someone that wants the same things as me? i don't want to complain. i'm sad. period. i can claim it as my own.
three paper bags of groceries on the kitchen table. the twin cobs of corn lay together. one is in plastic and the other is in the air.
it's too ridiculous.
i'm spinning a blue and gold pen. the center becomes a sphere.
i lost seven pounds this summer. i attribute this to my cheese cube and v-eight splash juice diet (everything else takes too long) and sitting around the house for hours on end. only me. jesus. i have problems with fending for myself when it comes to food. i never get hungry.
when i drink, it is out of the carton and in front of the refrigerator.
once every two weeks.
i wouldn't mind being a hooker b/c they get payed well.
i'm the quarterback, i'm popular.
"we were sort of reconciling and it fell to pieces when i remembered she was insane, and now its just anger" heath's genius at work
i wonder what i'm doing sometimes.
iced drinks with steaming drinks and conversation at a cement table with chairs of different styles.

6.20.2002

when the lights blob together to form massive trails like caterpillar to dainty butterfly, faces turn to digital pixelations plastered to the screen. there is automated hum, electronic ear drum pulses caused by spin of central air fan machine outside the door and in the dark and rotations of connected wooden fan blades overhead. indoor plants shivers with the wind created.
to ben i said, machine gun obsession led to make out party. to john i said, exclamation point intended. drum machine beats.

6.19.2002

if i could get a job where i could paid for doing nothing then i would take it.
i don't want to be a corporate whore.
i like chai tea with ice and milk in a sturdy glass cup. john and ali and i sat on a three person metal bench. rusty in some places. the gothic prince was there in all black. pretty lights surround the patio. it's strange, i suppose.
my sister is asleep on her bed. damp hair after a recent shower and curled up in fetal position. she has to wake up early in the morning.
i just need affection and attention b/c i'm lonely.
toy joy sent me to sticker heaven. i bought penquin and space and dinosaur and modes of transport and shark stickers. the shark stickers had big teeth and looked vicious. and then alison and i shared a box of dots. by sharing i mean i gave her one and ate the rest. they liked to get stuck to our teeth. red and orange and yellow dots.

6.17.2002

once upon a time, there was a lion named momo. when the sun rose in the morning he would roll onto his furry back and yawn until his mouth could stretch no further. his teeth pointed out when he did this.after a good stretch and a big yawn, momo would turn over and flick his tail nonchalantly. he liked breakfast. the savannah was not too hot in the morning for him to complete a kill. zebra was his favorite. when he saw their stripes, he felt like he was about to eat at one of those fancy restaurants where there is more decoration than actual nutrition. but from experience, he knew the meat was good. crouching down, he spied on a herd of elephants malingering about eating grasses. too big, he thought. at least for breakfast. the alligators had gotten a head start he noticed. half of a gazelle stuck out of the muddy water. his mouth watered and the sun rose higher. and then he began to hear the gossip of the zebras. zebras liked to think that because they had fancy pants they were much better than the other animals. momo found that annoying. my mane is pretty fancy, he thought. after about thirty seconds of being distracted by his luxurious mane he realized he was being narcissistic and thought, but that's beside the point. he crawled on his haunches, growing closer and closer to the ladies and gentlemen of the elite zebra club. a zebra named zelda exclaimed, my my gwyneth lions are dirty things. and that mane...so last season. that comment was the catalyst for his quick and agile bound out of the tall yellowed grass. he was quite insulted, especially b/c he was hungry and felt his iq dropping with every dumb comment the zebras made. the ladies screamed and the men tried to shoo momo with their tails. he bit one of them for being condescending. but then, deciding the zebras' cologne bittered the taste, he opened his mouth and turned his head to another one. this one must have had a milk bath b/c she was delicious. what a beautiful day, he thought. he licked his chops and tossed his mane as if making a point. oh sassy lion. he enjoyed breakfast as the rhinos walked by. and the wind blew across the savannah.
peanut and raisin trail mix for the walk down to the pool. that's what i always made myself. i liked to put chocolate chips in, too. sometimes they melted. my little feet bending the summer grass, forging a trail in the dark depths of nature. it was really the grass near the frontage road of mopac. the pool was only a few blocks away. sometimes mommy held my hand. but when she worked, cyan and i would travel together, a pack like lions so we could jump in the deep end. i always tried to be the first one in after the five minute break whistle blew the release.
i went to camp ben with damion and we climbed around and he told me stories. stories from damion make me smile. the water babbled over rocks and under fallen logs. and everything was covered by the shade of wise old trees towering above with branches stretching out green leaves. white rocks for us to walk on and dusty dust to drive on.
when i was on campus earlier this week i saw my very first street preacher. hands out his fingers reached out in psalms and his hair curled and stretched like electric wires with every proud erratic enunciated word.
ben via interesting/informative textual message regarding korea (a teacher's dream essays).
i like being difficult. i slept like a baby last night after pacing in the garage making random comments and toughening up my fingers by rubbing them on grip tape. ahh hot orange and blue...my favorite colors.
i just made popcorn. it is poppy and hot. when i opened the bag the steam hurt my thumb.

6.16.2002

i am so hardcore. hardcore enough to call my latest cd extraterrestrial dark lord landing. can't you see the stars and flashing lights and smoke and impending death?
i snuck a listen of someone else's conversation and came to learn that after a good session in the bathroom you can lose five pounds. they were talking about taking dumps. so i switched focus to "the badass". ali and i like how his hair looks like it's been licked by a camel. he wears sweater vests without anything underneath and white shoes. i wish i was his fancy friend. i would wear plaid belts and limp berets and write things on pads of graph paper to pass to him at the bar.
i went to bed at seven thirty am and woke up at noon. it's hot in here. i can feel the back of my legs sticking together and waves of heat shudder upwards. using my hand as a fan is not very efficient.
i've taken both my ladies out for bubble tea. surrounded by bamboo walls and paper covered lanterns. sweet yummy drink in a glass cup.
little momo is climbing on the equipment and huskily purring and staring warily b/c he knows he's going outside soon.
the first night i've stayed up until dawn. i was awake when it started...the relationship between the ground and the sky. soil gets spots, i know even in the dark, until the map of lone states of fluid grow into an ocean that plants roots that grab into the ground. when it rains it get darker, the night sky with no stars and no moon. and as the ground soaks up liquid cloud it grows darker. the bark of the trees and the skins of the roots stain with moisture. the wind rushing like carts following the chugging belly of the train. not raindrops but avalanches of water ricocheting upwards off the roof and plummeting to fill the thirsty earth or form puddles on geometrically shaped rocks. they either disappear into the darkness of soil or create waves in the growing puddle. and as the storm slows down to a patter of footsteps, tree leaves and ivy leaves drip content and tired. saturated black bark drips rhythmically and quickly, passing water from the top of the thick trunk to the roots the hide dormant underneath.
i heard the first morning dove cooing, the birds twittering in the morning. when the rain stops the earth heaves and the clouds sigh. the sun came up behind the clouds. i didn't see it but it still rose.

6.13.2002

and then i have to go and tear up to bright eyes. that makes me even more sad.
my mouth gets really big when i yawn. i wish i could sing in a sexy jazz voice. the cicadas are out. years in the ground to come and whirr in the trees. it's very summery.
last night:
the rocking chair didn't work. it's three. the milk seems hotter on my lips than in my mouth. but i think i burnt my tongue again. the light upstairs creates vague patterns on the adjacent walls. it's not insomnia. just being awake for hours. after first directing body to lay still and commence slower breathing the shuddle that houses mind activity suffers from the deprevation on sleep. it sends electronic pulses. the sweet parts, where the nutrasweet didn't quite mix, congeal in little bits and float on the surface. the milk travels warm from mouth to belly. i want my heart to slow down. wishing to sleep on nights like this is like wishing for death when the heart sees no light. and it's back upstairs to sheets to blankets to running humming fan w/ a prayer that i will not hear it much longer.
restricted to "i" statements:
i slept by the phone last night b/c it meant being near you.
i kept trying to murder this little bastard of a brown beetle but it kept falling inbetween the cracks of the keyboard and then it flew in my face and i got mad and hit it.
i vote i make a shirt that states "tim harrington is my secret lover" but it would be living a lie only b/c it wasn't a secret anymore.
i like things with crowns on them.
i made friends with twins and they're johnny's friends sort of and we sang to pink moon while we waited for a presentation on "the dangers of campus life"and we made fun of boys that talk nonstop (a la name dropping) about "indie/punk/ska" bands in a junior high manner and say radiohead sucks b/c those kids are morons.
i'm trying to talk to some kid on im that has dark gray text on black background and i think he's goth or depressed or something b/c he keeps telling me life means nothing and i dunno what to say to him.
i want to take a class called age of the dinosaurs for my natural science credits.
i'd like to own a sailboat so i could sail on the lake at night under the moon.
i want to make sweet sweet love on the beach or under the stars in the grass.
i was mad when my sleeping pill didn't help me fall asleep.
i say baller too much and i don't say bitchin enough.
i saw a kid with a badass shirt and a sparkle belt and i wanted to be his friend.

6.11.2002

to whom it may concern (a la stank-o):
had you contacted me a mere three and a half hours earlier, i would've been complaining about the heat and the walking and the mundane vs detailed question and common sense. but i guess you could say i had a change of heart. i caught up with brooke clark today, a girl from good ol' kealing junior high. together we made jaded comments about the group, the "fresh out of highschool" b/c of a ut/austin/way over highschool when in highschool superiority complex. and it took some diversity program to change it. call us dorks, but watching people talk as individuals, free with different personalities, different backgrounds, different goals got us all mushy hearted enough to admit that yes, it was a good program and it wouldn't be too bad to orient the freshman next year. i get the opportunity to learn. to learn about anything. to dabble (god, what a word...) in everything from religion to biology to musicians to fucking yoga. it's all there. as i was saying to stink on the phone, it's always been a hilarious stigma to us... the kids that scream we are so in college/this is so not highschool...yet i find myself beaming with fucking anticipation about all the knowledge that is so not highschool. in a couple days or a few weeks, i know i'll feel stupid about writing this. but it's ok.
love
dr. kelly green, professional badass
p.s. isn't cristina a genius? i mean really.

6.10.2002

do i have smash it up, b/c i really want to hear it. i don't like showers slash baths anymore, i'm down with being dirty quite frankly. i think that's the only bad influence you ever had on me. stank-o and i made pretty necklaces with brown leather cord and cheap hobby lobby scarab beads. ben told me to proudly walk over and introduce myself as poo...poo nanny. i'm thinking about doing it.
i like to compliment your outline in the dark and in the soft light of a forty watt bulb. last night it felt good for my cold skin to be pressed onto your hot body. a cold hand holding a warm one. every inch, freckled back as your abdomen rises with every intake of air. you're so fucking beautiful as i quote what i wrote.
we still had the table lamp on when i started watching you sleep. i used my fingers as eyes when the lights were off. i want to remember every inch of your body and the curve of your freckled back and the circumference of your giant nostrils. we could have had sex last night but i didn't want you to regret it in the morning. i know you well enough to know that would be a possibility. i could have but i was doing it to remember you. that's why i kissed you and climbed on top of you, so i could make it all unique to you.
life's woes. frankly, i think it was one of the best emails i've ever written.
i kissed your forehead and your cheek, your lips and your chest to kiss your heart last night. you were silouetted by the outside lights, the car headlights, the moon and stars peeking through city fog and you were beautiful. and i caressed your face with a whispered goodnight.
it's an andrew wk (my secret acid wash jeans lover) and brian eno by this river day.
if any of my friends become truckers, i want to come along for the ride. i wish ali was free for the afternoon so we could get sweet bubble tea at momoko. it's not the same without a friend. i would have stayed if you had wanted me, too. i vote the phone call i got three minutes ago was the best phone call i ever got. my dirty shorts are actually clean and in the laundry so now i can take these pants off and not be hot as tittyfucks. i also vote being frank equals badass good times.
ben and i spent countless dollars on photobooth pictures. bivert, duck's auto shop and mugs that would make your mother cry are the paramount of girl power: show sold out. when he hears beck croon on mutations, he'll think of me.
well, back to being a statistic in the statistics game of lazy american teenagers.

6.09.2002

it goes along with that story somehow...the coming together of two planets. and the water formed mazes we could never get out of until a flash of setting. daddy and i swam in the lake and came up when ships ladders raised us to ground level. the played phone tricks form ship to ship despite their meters of difference in distance. when they were coming, we hid in caves formed by material goods and awoke when everything and almost everybody had been turned into brincks of sparkling blue with human words engraved into the tops , black and clean. and they could talk. we all wore loin cloths and beat bongo and played whistles on the streams and i was in your arms and then you were inside me while we played in the water. she walked over to offer us beaded bracelets, but could not find the one specifically for me. there was no control but merely a full rich freedom.
and then i awoke for the first time.
the second time through i kept retelling the story until he found himself too busy at work. i ran out into the city, the city seen before. a resemblance to rome with long walks and twists in direction. until i came to you again, buried in the water of the aqueducts, skin turned brown with work and soil and city filth. and they were drowning you but the water disappeared and our city was turning desert until the source had been found. the source at which we made love. disappeared from brown water to my bloody lover. he had appeared before and we rode together. two levels of light on a smoking bike meant he swung his knife out for heads and torsos and the car following bludgeoned they're feet so the could no longer walk. and he had been released from prison. he dropped me off at the corner and i found myself near a place i had stayed before and instantly knew why i was there. for her. it was day suddenly when i walked in. i had been there with bacchus and pan and the cuckoos morphed to cockatoos still able to imitate emotion with the sound of their whistles. ivy vines curled like burning paper and flowers still virgin buds. he said she was with friends. i climbed up the ladders, ducking where one came in contact with another until i saw her resting at a molding round wooden table and she smiled and started to come to me while in the background, her friends asked how long i was staying. i found myself back near the aqueducts and shouted your name until you saved yourself from drowning. your body ate mine up and then turned and she was there in a long white dress, soaked to the bone. and you went towards her as she smiled slyly. and they were kissing and i came over and kissed too. the three of us soon naked.
and then i awoke for the second time.

6.08.2002

everything moves just a little bit off the beat of my head moving from side to side and it takes four minutes to make the rounds. and i want to think i can do it on my own with smile enveloping other features into a giant horse toothy welcome. be my friend in art class? i like to think i'm charming in clothes worn three days in a row. the fan is in time to that damn kylie minogue song everyone hates. skin is slightly yellow...is that normal? it's not std style yellow. like i would know? she started singing "that song about graduation" to me while we rode through the country on the interstate and i got annoyed but felt bad later. and the people keep handing me checks "for the roadtrip" that now seems doubtful b/c someone's mother won't let her adult daughter go for lack of life experience. how else would we gain it without being on our own? the red amyrillis have since wilted in the backyard. the day before finals, she didn't teach us anything real, just kept preaching that now is our chance to think outside the box, to go outside the lines. maybe i will paint point a to point b. does anyone want to bring me a burger to go along with my freshly acquired night blooming jasmine body spray? the windows were open when i took off my pants, but no one walked by to witness the joyous occasion. there's some cold lasagna in a potato salad container in the fridge that i think i might slop onto a plate and stick in the microwave for a minute or so. it's getting to be lunch time.

6.07.2002

half chewed noodles and button up shirt. i was confined to the couch. swabbing down with the smell of clean b/c you don't think you were quite as nice as you should have been. and the people you miss don't come around much anymore. looking good with bare legs and blue and black. it's hot. don't you love me anymore? i can sleep on my side now and smell the flowers he brought that now bathe in a vase on the table. when i lift up my shirt, you can see the gauze that covers the criss cross of stiches.

6.03.2002

we paid five dollars to stand in the dusty, smoky sun and played a crooked game of twister in the sun with a ten year old. show your pride. the gay pride festival at fiesta gardens. kevin kept me entertained with sarcastic side comments and secret gossip while ben drooled over some porn star. i smiled a lot.
marks on my body with permanent marker. black and blue ink forming lines. permanent.
we wrote the beginning of an era last night on a pad on lined paper. let me word it to you over funk beats.
fuckin' hot outside. damion and i dashed about town to various appointments. somehow it took the tired attitude of a married couple running errands. but i bought him a chocolate dip cone and then we watched o brother, where art thou? and we picked on each other. so eventually, it went back to childish puppy love. oo sexy boy.
i've been updating stank-o's site while she's gone.

6.01.2002

ice cream ice cream ice cream. it dripped down my spoon and turned to mush in the bowl because it was hot. and everybody's jealous b/c there were real strawberries.
it's growing darker outside and as the fan spins above me and whips my hair about the wind rustles the ivy leaves hanging onto the fence with many tiny fingers.
i am the laziest mother focker around.