February 2012
7 posts
1 tag
Feb 21st
10 notes
1 tag
February in Wisconsin makes up for late winter, as the years pass on. It brings small indecisive snowflakes that can’t make up their mind, hitting my cheeks and shoulders and thick auburn hair. The skin on my fingers and arms swells up and makes everything drier; I look 10 years older than I am. I am as indecisive as the snowflakes. I wish for it to stop and when it does, I wish for it to come...
Feb 11th
1 tag
Your handwriting. The way you walk. Which china pattern you choose. It’s all giving you away. Everything you do shows your hand. Everything is a self portrait. Everything is a diary.
Feb 11th
1 tag
Feb 8th
3 notes
1 tag
"Excuses"
You tried to taste me and I taped my tongue to the southern tip of your body. Our bones are too heavy to come up, squished into a single cell of wood. I made an excuse. You found another way to tell the truth. I put no one else above us. We’ll still be best friends when all turns to dust. We are so smooth now. Our edges are beaten, drift wood widdled down. Old bodies slip when they make...
Feb 7th
5 notes
1 tag
ListenTonight I am thinking of Bon Iver’s cover of...
Feb 5th
19 notes
1 tag
Feb 2nd
January 2012
19 posts
1 tag
Jan 28th
41 notes
1 tag
Jan 28th
338 notes
2 tags
Jan 23rd
5 notes
1 tag
Jan 23rd
1 tag
Jan 23rd
1 tag
There once was a seashore. It sat in all it’s undisturbed wonder, safe and sound from the miserable and destructive clans that were known as the tourists. It felt lovely and beautiful. Lonely, but beautiful. It basked in the sun and drowned itself in the moonlight. Perfection in the eyes of anyone. Yet it yearned for something more. Some sort of unattainable purpose. The sea sensed the...
Jan 22nd
1 tag
“i want people to remember me, but i want each memory to be unique and different. no two paths are the same, so no two memories are. everyday we die a little bit and with that i’ve found my peace. some people never find peace and i think that’s what humanity craves so much. no matter how many people say they love the chaos, they do want peace.”
Jan 22nd
1 tag
“Your Uncle Fred told me once that you were the best thing I could have given Oscar, because he wanted a child so badly. I’ll never forget it.”
Jan 17th
1 tag
Jan 17th
1 tag
“I’ve been sad.” “I know.” 
Jan 11th
1 tag
Once upon a time there was Candy and Dan. Things were very hot that year. All the wax was melting in the trees. He would climb balconies, climb everywhere, do anything for her, oh Danny boy. Thousands of birds, the tiniest birds, adorned her hair. Everything was gold. One night the bed caught fire. He was handsome and a very good criminal. We lived on sunlight and chocolate bars. It was the...
Jan 9th
1 tag
I miss this feeling. I miss this. Please let me. Remember this. Something I noticed New Year’s Eve, 2002 It was my fifth drink. 11:48 pm. I’m going to remember this for the rest of my life. I set my drink down when it occurred to me that you weren’t sitting in the living room talking to Adam anymore. Going along with a conversation that you could give two fucks about, saying things just...
Jan 9th
16 notes
1 tag
Sometimes I imagine the lake at dawn. I’ll still be lying in bed, hidden from my sleep that I want so much, always, all the time. People are dreaming about things I will never be able to see. Or touch. It’s dark and everything is quiet and this is the moment where everything becomes so much more comfortable. The lightness behind the blinds welcomes itself inside, still dark baby blue...
Jan 8th
6 notes
1 tag
Jan 8th
1 note
1 tag
And I’m laying in our bed, and I’m really sorry. And I feel the same way you do. I’m really sorry you guys. I don’t know what I could have done. I wish I’d been here. I wish I hadn’t listened to other people, but I did. Every night I’ve been sleeping with his mother, and I wake up in the morning and think it’s him because their bodies are sort of the same.
Jan 8th
1 tag
Jan 7th
1 note
1 tag
Jan 7th
5 notes
1 tag
Jan 7th
4 notes
1 tag
Things I wish I’d said When I was five, I lived on 16th avenue. There are bits and pieces in which resonate my mind every so often. I remember marriage.  I remember writing on the walls and baby corn and naps on the couch. The first time I got the chicken pox. I remember it all so well and I was so small, not aware of the feelings that consumed me the way they did others. The curls on my head...
Jan 7th
3 notes
December 2011
3 posts
1 tag
I don’t even know what we talk about I just listen to the sound of his voice and to his laugh and to the sound of him listening to me
Dec 28th
1 tag
it’s funny how the mind associates things with other things. how i associate the taste of honey with the smell of your skin. how i can’t help but think of the color of your eyes when i see a thundercloud.  i miss the way you’d sometimes stumble over your words when you were thinking too hard. sometimes i think it’s unfair when october rolls around. do you remember how, on mischief night, we...
Dec 25th
1 note
1 tag
That would have been wonderful.
Dec 2nd
November 2011
5 posts
1 tag
Clementine: Joely..
Joel: Yeah, Tangerine?
Clementine: Do you know The Velveteen Rabbit?
Joel: No.
Clementine: It's my favorite book. Since I was a kid. It's about these toys. There's this part where the skin Horse tells the rabbit what it means to be real. I can't believe I'm crying already. He says, "It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
Nov 24th
2 tags
I wanted to see if you were online and if you were then I was going to IM you and tell you hello and that I am always thinking of you and today I saw a sun hat and I thought of you and how cool youd look in one and I hope you like sunhats and also that I miss you and today was very tiring and I wish that I could come home to you.
Nov 11th
1 tag
Today is the first snowfall of Winter. It’s November 10th. There’s a new girl in class who is from California and has never seen snow. She’s staring out the window like she’s seen a miracle.
Nov 10th
1 tag
I sit in an ocean full of dandelions. The sunrise peaks through the clouds and crystalizes shapes of memory pixels on the skin you once touched. I’m breathing like I was just re-born, I can’t feel my toes. I can’t remember anything without you.
Nov 7th
2 tags
“I will remember your small room, the feel of you, the light in the window, your...”
– Charles Bukowski
Nov 3rd