erin's LiveJournal Entries [entries|friends|calendar] erin [ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ] [ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

[25 Feb 2002|08:43pm] [ mood | computers i smash you ] [ music | radiohead- how to disappear completely and never be found ] hey babe, take a walk on the wild side o... news: i am now among those who can say with honesty, at least, that they have had one good valentines day. survival is made of instincts i am becoming more acquainted with. MUST STAY TUFF. kids and friends are good. cutthroat #3 is good in some cases. Main Entry: cutthroat Function: adjective Date: 1567 1 : MURDEROUS, CRUEL 2 : marked by unprincipled practices : RUTHLESS >>>>3 : characterized by each player playing independently rather than having a permanent partner <<<<<<< breathing feels like choking sometimes, like when my visions come to realization one by one. please keep in touch, friends... i love you possibly maybe.probably. i quit livejournal. lets write letters! the kind that come with stamps and art. XXX xo ps. whats this biznaz??: amanda61986: but i think theres something you should know if you dont already. the health food lady told me. you cant be a vegetarian/vegan if youre a type o pps. amanda is veg now so everyone tell her you love her. 13 comments|post comment

<3 X <3 X <3 X <3 [14 Feb 2002|10:35am] something is wrong with my dance-ability. i hope your valentines day is neat. 3 comments|post comment

[11 Feb 2002|08:05pm] [ music | [coldpay.] yea you heard me ] its been really windy all day. i like it. and even at nightfall the wind didnt show any indication of dying down. summer breezes only seem to survive around dusk. i found a pack of pictures that i took on southstreet last...[february?]. all the pictures are of my friends. i purposefully blocked the faces out with my thumb in every single picture. i think i made sure everyone knew this too. haha...i am a such a jerk. with funny ways of showing frustration. 19 comments|post comment

[10 Feb 2002|08:52pm] oh yeah the house in easton is going to be sold by june. and after that im going west with my love. and im never moving in with a parent again. so theres my reason to get my act together. post comment

[10 Feb 2002|06:29pm] is this why i feel useless? how much can i really blame on my father's mindgames when i walk around saying that ive cut myself off from him emotionally? duh, erin... thats. not. possible. because even without speaking, i am still accessible. I AM THE WEAK ONE. because i can tell him coldly that i can hear the tears in his voice. [every tenth syllable is slightly choked.] ...but when he actually starts crying... ...and he begs me to tell him, that he was a good father... because i... ...i am his daughter. and i am "all he has left." i tell him yes. yes dad, you were a good father. yes dad, i love you. yes dad, i will give you a hug. yes, i missed you too. even though: you taught me that hate "is a pretty strong word"..when i first used it on you. you shook me. this was the only time. every other time it was for the most part emotional. i say "i dont forget." but i do. and i remember again being curled up on the floor of my room saying "i wont forget i wont forget i wont forget" but i do. i let my guard down just long enough, when you coax and compliment...to give you a few fiery words as to how life is, etc....and then in the blink of an eye you do, and have always since i began to turn towards what i am today, attack me [softly] with yr viscious [unassuming] insults. taking my hand as you pull my feet out from under me. and when i am downed animal, confused as to the strength i had and lost in a matter of seconds...you beat me senseless with words. you make me forget what i am. and i know i cant forget because everytime i do,..i become lost in the pain of the world again, i want to die. and you wont hold still long enough for me to strike back. you are there but you keep changing yr tone to keep me in submission. everything changes so fucking fast... as ive always said...adrift in a sea of hot and cold. i am in love. while you, dear father, tell me i am not capable of loving anyone "satisfactorily" due comparatively to my frigid demeanor around you, to what i once was. yr evidence? i wont hug you without a fight. and i know this is just coincidental but its just too much. and i dont know what to do with myself...and i dont want a repeat of last night..beneath the brilliant stars of rural new hope, running off into the trees with such a fury i cant contain, only to collapse onto soft pine needles and cry until my cat thank god found her way to me in the dark and then cry with her there reassuringly nudging me. i cant fucking handle anything. i use the word fuck way too much. i can only articulate certain nagging concerns, like this one, because i cannot fully move on. i am redundant. i i i i i i i i . i am so close to deleting all this. im sorry. and this WILL be the last weekend like this..because unlike before, i wouldnt blame anyone for abandoning me right now. i am, as they say, a shadow of my former self. hooray! XflowerXgirlX: WELCOME BACK TO EASTON 5 comments|post comment

[08 Feb 2002|02:56pm] amanda61986: some kid in my art class, nick, did the words "KILLER TOFU" for his calligraphy project in big old english lettering and i am not a huge fan of aubrey beardsley anymore but.. rarr i like: http://www.artcyclopedia.com/images/Beardsley.gif 3 comments|post comment

the tea. [08 Feb 2002|02:03am] simple is key at 2:44 am: i think jen is the one person who even slightly caught on to the drive behind my compulsive aggitation of others..and actually did something with it. even though i begged for someone to do the same for me, on so many accounts... and itneverhappened and i cametoterms with what WAS [short-lived] complete emotional independence.. and thats probably WHY i was such an irritable asshole/reclusive painting mope... im thankful for it. all of it. we even physically fought..with punches!..like twice! remember?? the goodbye that doesnt just .end. but evolves. 2 comments|post comment

..//.desolation yes hesitation no [08 Feb 2002|01:49am] [ mood | slow motion spring cleaning ] [ music | r.e.m. ] 'i'll never be the shine in yr spit' and all that yeah yeah yeah...i cant be tuff everyday. infact its just a hobby to keep from falling to pieces. and i didnt exactly come apart today but there was a definite lack of edge. i definately gave myself the try try try haircut an hour ago. and listened to age of innocense. this is surely a step in the wrong direction toward getting rid of my problem of always looking like and having people think i am a junky. but oh well. and there was brief tea at the quadrant with an old friend. yeah so you know what all this bullshit is lately..? im packing up memories like in cardboard boxes so i can move on. i am aging. and non-stop recollection is such a death bed thing. its scaring me. 1 comment|post comment

[07 Feb 2002|07:39pm] [ music | the coup - 5 million ways to kill a CEO ] GiSHishSiva: haha read this one objective for homeschooling..for Safety Education: GiSHishSiva: · Erin will conduct a fire drill. GiSHishSiva: HAHAH amanda61986: LOL!!!!!! amanda61986: LMAO GiSHishSiva: hahaha amanda61986: and do the safety dance 2 comments|post comment

[06 Feb 2002|09:15pm] [ music | against me ] downtown is a total ray bradbury novel somedays. blue lace stockings that look like tattoos...and ensuing offers for 8 o clock dates with sick old men. fucking gag me. the human race. i want out. post comment

[06 Feb 2002|01:28am] [ music | bjork - [frosti] ] i spent most of the day in front of the heating vent again. drinking tea. it seems as though spending more time with myself is not the answer to anything... i get lost in myself...skipping off..like i remember skipping away from the banks out into the lake..stone to stone toston e to st to n e tostTonE...toward a wavy grey horizon that just never gets any closer. stop. and i see this as 2nd degree. 1st was when dreams had a definite start and finish. and 3rd will be when someone in white is being paid to wake me up whenever my eyes become glazed over. someone please explain why the inside of my head is a fucking salvador dali painting!! except instead of elephants with giraffe legs and sodomized pianos its endless materializations of carcinogens.. lungs blackening with car exhaust ..dying earth.. hope in the form of ruins and night skies where none of the stars are snuffed out by ambient city light...black flags... hands.. stacks of dusty books.. gray hair.. loaded guns.. pepper spray+shields... everything is so temporary. every fucking feeling, every fucking friend, every fucking home, every fucking government (someday)(this is good), every thought. skip skip skip. defensive? apparently. untrusting..? no but circumspect, yes. but then there are those times when something or someone reminds me that reality can be beautiful safe and warm....and i am calm. "discipline makes things eaaassiierrrrr.." so yeah. i have no discipline. i canNOT control my thoughts at all. and its making me really unproductive instead of the other way around. and another thing. i keep replaying the blur of the central park cop rampage over and over again...cause i think i was hit. i dont remember falling, or having anything fall on my back..but i do distinctly remember trying NOT to turn my back to the pigs while at the same time NOT get trampled/sprayed...but i did turn my back...and feel sharp pain..and now my back has a long bruise... so its either that or aliens and my imagination. whatever. damn right the dragon will be fire breathing next time. and cop eating. . .. oh yes, i fucking miss you. 7 comments|post comment

i read too much hyped up press. [31 Jan 2002|01:05am] or maybe not enough. anyway. this is beautiful. this is why im going. this article has been widely circulated already but i know there are a few of you on my list who have not read it. o yea and dont tell yr moms. cause moms conspire against me. http://villagevoice.com/issues/0205/kaplan.php 6 comments|post comment

cars kickin up dust in my eyes.. [29 Jan 2002|04:36pm] [ music | no more prisons] [.comp.] ] robins bathing in the mesh of water plants at the top of the pond.. long long bike rides. i prefer to ride alone lately but when im all up in the traffic it doesnt matter anyway. a beautiful day i guess. the last one before winter comes back tomorrow or thursday. and then i [maybe] go to nyc to lock myself into the giant trap that is the wef protests. err.no. WorstNemesis00: I think that even with the littlest of knowledge of a situation you could fair GiSHishSiva: no. i have a feeling it wont matter how smart you are when a pig is pointing a gun at your head for sporting the red and black. WorstNemesis00: I see what you mean...sorry...I just...hmm...it's strange...because usually when you go into something with a doubt, it tends to blow up in your face.. WorstNemesis00: umm...not to mean that literally GiSHishSiva: HAHAHHA 4 comments|post comment

[28 Jan 2002|02:23pm] winter is one massive shadow over the land. and that is why, from my spot on the kitchen counter next to the stove, i am surprised to see shady patches stretching across the not quite dead grass in the backyard. dead things arent supposed to cast shadows...winter...dead... today is not a winter day. today i am lost. in cup after cup of hot tea and the buzzing of treefingers [rh] combining with the buzzing of the refrigerator. what shore have i washed up on now **attn**this journal is going to be friends only soon. post comment

that there../ [28 Jan 2002|11:24am] [ mood | hajhhhhhhh ] [ music | radiohead - punchdrunk lovesick singalong ] ohhhhh im home. i took all my pictures backwards this weekend. the urge to linger linger linger...every step of the way. but i am back anyway for the first day of being where i am not supposed to be, according to them, and according to me..but most importantly not according to my instincts. i am stunned and spun up still in the beauty of the past 48 hours. saturday nite. collapsing onto the floor every 20 minutes to curse my wrathful stomach which was tied up in knots in response to some accidental dairy consumption. but inbetween.. moshing and dancing everything away with the most amazing grrrls. and by the time zegota played my insides were spinning in a different direction than my skin, infused with the morphine of the moment... and all i could do was let the words shoot from my mouth amidst sobbing screams originating from a place inside which had been long forgotten. and keep my eyes tightly shut because we were all in that place by then. and its all a big blur of desperate attempts for transportation, ringing ears, metro gates, church pew cushion beds, panel workshops, & goodbyes after that. i came down around 4pm sunday afternoon...into the soft [january] spring fever in the quad at the conference. &this; morning before i went to sleep i cut my hair to remind me, every tme i look in the mirror for the next few months, of that strange solace in confusion, and of t o day andd... i really dont want to be updating this. im home. love, erin... 1 comment|post comment

[25 Jan 2002|02:47pm] [ mood | liberated ] [ music | radiohead - million dollar question ] so. today was my last day as a high school student. from the way some kids said goodbye..i could kind of tell they expected me to walk out the doors, turn around, back away slowly....pull a gun out of my hoodie put it to my head and pull the trigger. but no i just kept walking. and then i ran. The schools we go to are reflections of the society that created them. Nobody is going to give you the education you need to overthrow them. Nobody is going to teach you your true history, teach you your true heroes, if they know that that knowledge will help set you free. Schools in amerika are interested in brainwashing people with amerikanism, giving them a little bit of education, and training them in skills needed to fill the positions the capitalist system requires. As long as we expect amerika's schools to educate us, we will remain ignorant. -Assata Shakur. who is not, contrary to popular belief at EAHS, tupac's mom. no fucking regrets. off to D.C for the ncor. 3 comments|post comment

[23 Jan 2002|11:42am] [ music | radiohead - maquiladora ] dude, how could my nostalgia-ridden journal be complete without a story i wrote when i was like 2? transcribed by jeff i mean dad because i didnt know how to write english then. this was in the kitchen on our first night in this house. Western East / WESTERN EAST by erin paige I. the little brown street bear. he got into a trap and he drew a saw. he cut his way out! he goed to a river where a bunny was standing. the bunny fell into an alligator mouth. the alligator chewed him up. the alligator swallowed him. the bear only imagined that all this happened, because he wanted to imagine this. then he jumped into a raisin box. something was in the raisin box. little stacks of gum was in the raisin box. then he jumped into the river to clean himself off. that felt pretty good. then he swam over the alligator. then the alligator tried to catch him. then he swam up to the lake. he swam over to the big boat and got into it. II. he went to where he lived. his home was like a little brown cat. monsters were around. then he got aten just like that. then the monster swallowed him. the monster was a big plant. the monster crushed the home. then the monster jumped into the washing machine. he got turned around. then chicken came and shot the monster dead. chicken was the hero! the ending never came. 3 comments|post comment

hahaha [22 Jan 2002|11:51pm] http://www.drparsons.fsnet.co.uk/georg.html post comment

[22 Jan 2002|11:05pm] [ mood | slightly disgusted ] [ music | radiohead - cuttooth ] as the tanks roll into town a little bit of knowledge will destroy you... i dont know why i feel so tongue-tied i dont know why i feel so skinned alive found in someone's lj bio: I think after we're done bombing Afghanistan, we should take it over and rename it to Copacabanastan. ::sigh:: have you ever constructed a list of people you wouldnt mind killing? just knocking off. this has nothing to do with above and i am not implying that i give two shits about this person. but really...imagine what it would feel like to hold that list in yr hand... post comment

[22 Jan 2002|08:22pm] [ music | honey [aphrodite & mickeyfinn mix] ] coming across old photos of my dad from california/herb farm. remembering my last conversation with jackie. and trying to get in touch with people about japhy's whereabouts... japhy. i am making a mistake. but even still... it is really hard for me to get in touch with people from my past. there are few bridges back. post comment

navigation [ viewing | most recent entries ] [ go | earlier ]