December 2010
1 post
April 2010
4 posts
ouch!
i was was bitten by a man i know while horsing around at a friend’s house (in case your brow is worriedly furrowed, i feel the need to disclose that i’ve punched this man in the mouth hard enough to make him spit blood while horsing around. the martyr card is pretty much out of the picture).
i made a casual documentation of the 2-week lifespan of the bite’s bruise.
...
call me ishmael.
i have been trying to write the same song for the past month.
the first stanza came instantly; the chorus, hammered out in a day. now, though…nothing. i don’t know how to press on with it. everything i try to play sounds wrong. i can’t pin an ending on this thing. it’s gotten to the point that i am absolutely fucking sick to death of listening to it. whenever we have band...
“I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A bird will fall frozen dead from a...”
– David Herbert Lawrence
that explains it. →
i want something
like what i remember.
March 2010
11 posts
chuck
one of my dearest friends is moving back to columbia from portland, oregon tomorrow. i have been literally counting down the days. chuck’s return soothes me in a lot of ways—beside the fact that i adore him, i feel like i have a comrade of sorts.
chuck moved away very shortly after i did. we have been gone almost the exact same amount of time. while away, we were able to console each...
lovers
i spent a full day and night with the man i love this weekend.
in the interest of time, i’ll paraphrase: i love him. he loves me. when i moved back, he told me he can’t be in a relationship with me, but has no interest in being with anyone else. this either suits me or rips me to pieces, given the time of day. we hang out sparingly, and sometimes fall into bed with one another....
The Wild Rose
sometimes hidden from me
in daily custom and trust
so that i live by you unaware
as by the beating of my heart,
suddenly you flare in my sight,
a wild rose blooming at the edge
of thicket, grace and light
where yesterday was only shade,
and once again i am blessed, choosing
again what i chose before.
-wendell berry
(i expect to be writing with my heart strings in the coming weeks....
pulse:
the rate at which the heart beats, or the underlying feelings, emotions, or sentiments of a group of people.
summer's coming.
everyone bemoans the southern summer. it’s so hot that the pavement shimmers, and the sweat starts trickling down your back as soon as you set foot outside your house. i for one, welcome it with open arms, especially since my recent northern summers have left much to be desired.
REASONS REBEL SUMMERS TRUMP YANKEE ONES:
1. yes, the sun below the mason dixon is a scorcher (to the point that...
boots
i’ve wanted some steel-toe, shitkicker boots for as long as i can remember. probably since the first time i ever saw tank girl (and subsequently paint-penned my 10th grade self a target t-shirt). two years ago, an ex offered me a pair (this is a man who, during our courtship, hand-fashioned me a pair of brass knuckles and has on more than one occasion offered me knives as a token of his...
dreams.
i have been having very, very vivid dreams lately. i dreamed that i was a forensic scientist solving murders. i dreamed that i was back in roller derby, getting ready for a bout. i dreamed that i was driving very fast and got in a car accident and was dying. mostly though—nearly every night—i dream that the man i love is fucking other women.
it’s terrible.
yikes
this is so strange! i wrote a blog for years, nearly daily. about everything—heartbreaks, personal humiliation, even a cancer scare. this new forum is so daunting, though. before, i felt like the audience, though anonymous, was overwhelmingly friendly. now, it’s whomever stumbles upon whatever’s going on in my life. that’s kind of terrifying. i’m having a hard time...
acclimation
after nearly 3 years in philadelphia i decided, new year’s eve, that it was time to move back to the south. i missed my friends. i missed my family. i missed being warm—both literally and figuratively.
february 1 i made the move.
since then it’s as if i’ve been living my life inside-out. i feel like i’ve come back quieter, and smaller. i watch people more than i...
back
i feel like i should start with an explanation. some sort of, ‘well, here i am again’ type thing. i don’t want to. the thought of the explanations it would take to fully catch you up make me tired. instead, i’m going to jump in feet first, and hope you follow.
September 2009
1 post
bang one out
don’t you hate how everytime you don’t get laid for awhile, everyone starts looking real good? the 4s are now 7s, the 7s have become 9s, and god help the 9s.
they’re 15s.
i’ll stand around like, “damn! has he always looked that fine?”
no, girl, no.
you just gotta bang one out.
May 2009
1 post
“God provides for the lion, but the fox provides for himself.”
April 2009
4 posts
“i tell the women that the face is my experience and the hands are my soul —...”
– bukowski
fight night
golden gloves! also, pro fights at blue horizon.
i know a girl who is very excited.
“You can’t always be the strongest or the fastest. You can be the toughest.”
March 2009
18 posts
“Love is like pissing yourself. Everyone can see it, but only you can feel it.”
“And then her hands…her tiny broken hands….”
– My roommate dan, talking about the girl he fucked last night.
drunk.
is is possible to feel utterly content and inconsolably melancholy at the same time?
rhetorical question, motherfucker.
now, ain't that some shit.
invited this chick to our no-pants party last week. she couldn’t make it, b/c she was going to NY.
today, i ran into her in the park. she invites me to a party this weekend that she’s hosting.
the theme? “underwear party.”
good luck, sister.
i either
want to get drunk or boned tonight.
or both.
“Do you ever listen in on teenagers’ conversations and get really worried...”
– Liz B, one of my coworkers at Vez
“I have always thought the actions of men the best interpreters of their...”
– John Locke
no pants party
the no pants party was last night. the following things happened:
1. i got fucking WRECKED.
2. i wrote on my own stove in permanent ink, “robert deniro was in cape fear. he ate a bitch’s face off.” (pictured below)
3. the police were called 3 times.
4. cat shit everywhere.
5. stood on the stair railing and thrust my crotch in strangers’ faces while shouting,...
doin' it.
when i got home tonight, i saw that my roommate had her door open. she was tangled up w/ this dude, and he kept saying, ‘vee haf vays of making you talk.’
now i can hear them boning. i guess that’s one of the ways.
“Live every week like it’s shark week.”
– Tracy morgan
return of the mack.
i arrived home safe and sound from austin this afternoon. although i had a hoot w/ klaire and jaime, this is the very first time i’ve been anxious to return to philadelphia. i guess that means progress is being made towards Operation: Make Philly Home.
am now in the midst of planning this saturday’s Pants-Free Party.
kegs. 40’s. dancing. cute boys. cute girls. scantily clad...
“Whenever i see a guy wearing a mask like that, i feel like he’s silently...”
– klaire ginocchio, after viewing a man in a mexican wrestling mask at the bar last night.
January 2009
2 posts
well well well...
here i am.
