blinds lay vertically asleep as the rising sun creeps through. my legs are crossed at the ankles and i'm lying on my stomach on blue sheets, nylon spread in front of me. the shadows of the trees dance methodically in the wind just outside the window. a subtle gray surrounded by bright gold cut outs of the outdoors. i want to paint birds on the wall b/c the piano music tells me to. it flutters over the beat. i found a dirty dime on the desk and my clean clothes are jumbled inside a white cotton sack i carry them to and fro in. tomorrow school starts and i have a new notebook to scrawl pen marks on blue lined paper.
leona naess sang, "i want kisses and dresses."
pure genuis.
b/c i do, too.


what the paper said describing the documentary kids:

natasha martin hinshaw: cynical goth-style girl from austin who's into art.

kelly green: an austinite who's a bit of a misfit and stands out by virtue of her height (more than 6 feet tall).

so basically, tash is still goth and i only stand out due to my height.


i did my good deed.
i picked up two men on the side of the road.
car stranded in the grass off the ramp.
their names were andre and lee.
the car started swerving so they pulled over.
i circled the block and picked them up.
two strangers that meant something.
the window rolled down so the air rushes in while we talk over a soft roll of radio.


we played with toy cars in the gravel of the playground and snacked on peanut butter sandwiches and grapes.
i had coffee this morning.


the fan spins swirling air about as the sky through the window grows dimmer.
what if it was me?
the music stopped.
pink ruffles
i keep having weird dreams.
i run my fingers across the small rug as i sit on the floor.
it feels empty.
i wish i had a cookie jar in the kitchen.
turning pages and wrinkled sheets.


i used to have a pink plastic girltalk phone.
those were the same days i was flat chested and wore a size zero even though i was like, thirteen and about 5' 8".
my clothes were too big.
and a black girl told me to wear a bra.
i had crushes on boys that were semi-goth b/c shit hadn't gotten so extreme.
my first kiss was on a field trip to san antonio to see the alamo.
but i ended up with a boy about six inches shorter than me.
that much hasn't changed.
i ran around wearing ballchain necklaces and necklaces made of paperclips.
and i drew chateau de discos for my french project.
and performed in a class production of a midsummer night's dream. i was part of bottom's crew.
everyone knew who i was even if i didn't know them.
it was when flicking people off was considered hardcore.
i just liked being loud and typing shitty poems at the public library after school when i hung out with my friends.


a friend of mine died this past weekend.
he was my age.
and i attended the funeral today.
people were pouring out of seats and into the aisles.
his coffin sat in front of the mourners draped in flowers.
i had trouble concentrating on the sermons and the hymns and the psalms b/c none of it seems real. i can't get the idea out of my head that he is gone, that right now his coffin is buried under the soil and he is gone.
we weren't that close or anything and all i can remember are just weird instances of him storming out of class and playing the lead in sylvia and his face and his boots and that scowl he held so well.
but he's gone.
it's so strange a concept that i have a hard time crying about it.
his mother with a tissue in hand and the sickeningly sad sounds of sobs coming from his close friends.
it's like my heart is pumping air instead of blood.
i used to call him mobs though.
like everybody else who cared.


like miniscule jellyfish they float on the surface as osmosis exchanges water and oil to create homogeneous floating puddles reflecting odd shapes onto my skin. little bubbles float and bleed into one another changing the shadows they produce.
my body becomes a shadow on the wall, moving oh so slowly as i turn the pages of a book.
two in the morning.
i offer to pay for dinner.
"that's why i love the whole liberation thing. b/c whenever my girlfriend says she'll pay, 'i'm like, are you sure? and she knows that just means i want her to pay."
i <3 talkative cashiers.


close encounters of the third kind potato mountain and a half eaten salad.
the red neon blended in witht the blue night sky forming purple fuzz on top of brick buildings.


i made dinner last night.
yummy pesto chicken (lemon, basil and lime with a little bit of parmesan) and salad with calamata feta dressing and angel hair pasta with sauce.
we curled up on the futon watching season one and shared a baguette and dirty shirleys.
benny and i dropped our pieces off at a gallery encasing all the unmentionables for the erotica show.
neck cut and sides sewn diy weekend. the sewing machine is out surrounded by a heap of unfinished projects...a pinstripe skirt and jean purse. the soviet shirt fixed up nicely for the party on friday.
strawberry smoothies and unflavored snow cones and kisses on your forehead.
i keep having weird dreams.
book is finished.
no more cokeheads allowed at dance parties.
natasha summed it all up nicely.