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[15 Jan 2004|11:37am] |
are the photos loading?
this is my third try. ha.
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[13 Jan 2004|04:34pm] |
i resized and lowered the quality of the photos.
hopefully enough.
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[13 Jan 2004|12:31pm] |
not sure if i like these as a sequence maybe just pick one to stand alone.
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[13 Jan 2004|12:20pm] |
more.
 invest in your dream.
 a new sky.
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[13 Jan 2004|12:15pm] |
brick walls in west oak lane.
more to come.
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[24 Dec 2003|12:17am] |
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speechless.
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[18 Dec 2003|02:21am] |
this is all i want to say:
the same shit. different name. the same shit. different name. the same shit. different name. the same shit. different name. the same shit. different name. the same shit. different name. the same shit. different name. the same shit. different name. the same shit.
but i can't.
cause this is new shit.
same name.
finally, when it was good.
science gets in my way.
now im staring at clocks.
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[03 Dec 2003|11:44pm] |
you see, you have stuck
to my lips
like a dirty habit.
every half hour,
i am breathing you in.
exhaling fumes.
.xxx.
fuck me for letting
myself do this.
.xxx.
i'm not feeling
well.
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[30 Nov 2003|12:04am] |
fell asleep last night,
stoned
listening to aesop rock.
man, have i changed.
xxx
woke up this morning:
high until mid-afternoon,
when i found myself
signing 5 different sheets of paper
in 5 different colors,
making me, now, the somewhat
confused owner or a nikon d100.
top of the line slr digital camera.
not to mention im in debt now: 2 grand.
who said it was a bad idea to make important
decisions while under the influence?
xxx
i thought things were going well.
now i don't think things ever go well, honestly.
things just change.
feel new, feel good, exciting, whatever.
it's all bullshit.
the same shit.
different name.
xxx
i find myself, currently,
at nineteen:
*still somewhat of a scrooge
around the holidays.
*involved in a non-labeled relationship
which many people would find a problem with,
including the person on the other end
of this one.
*high all the fucking time.
xxx
i don't know what the point of this journal is anymore.
and i apologize to those who still have to scroll by this
bullshit to get to the good stuff.
the good stuff?
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[23 Nov 2003|12:43am] |
you know that saying, goes something
like: if you're never sick, you never really appreciate
being well.
well. i think im done being sick.
[[meta-phor-ica-ll-y, speaking]]
and it's only been something like
4 years or so.
with mild cases of the
cold for bout 2 years before that
and a heavy case of bronchitis
before that.
but none of that shit matters now
anyway.
i feel better.
.xxx.
on another positive-feeling-better note:
i smoke less a day.
cigarettes, i mean.
.xxx.
on a not-so-positive note:
i think im one of those people i used
to glare at when i was sick.
curse them for their ignorance, which was relative
anyhow.
so kill me.
i can say i feel good,
for a decent amount every week, at least.
the old me would have.
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[04 Nov 2003|04:26pm] |
last night, came home to two letters:
citibank: college loan.
criminal justice center: jury selection.
wonderful. i tried ditching it once.
thought it would make them go away.
now i have to report at 8 am
sometime in december.
i can get out if i lie, claim im a nazi,
a racist, a jehova's witness. (?)
i don't know.
so that's some lame news.
im listening to some coldplay.
wondering what the hell im doing.
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[03 Nov 2003|08:05pm] |
i crashed at christie's last night.
woke up feeling kinda shitty.
been sneezing all day.
i've been trying to keep busy.
maybe i can forget you.
don't want to though.
some weird dude kept trying to talk
to me on my bus ride home.
i told him i don't like people.
maybe he got the hint.
my head feels full.
full of what, i don't know.
just full.
it really suprised me
that you read some of this,
i liked the idea of that.
i finally found a small black hoodie.
thought everything would be ok after that.
it's not.
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[02 Nov 2003|12:47am] |
went to jersey, farmland-area.
brian picked me up early.
dunkin donuts coffee.
i tried not to think about anything too much.
i took some mini digital photos.
randy came along for the trip back to philly,
to drop me off at work.
i thought a bit too much...until randy began discussing einstein;
how he was right about relativity, though the constant,
which is the speed of light, is not a constant at all...
which is validated by the existence of the crab nebula.
which i finally understand...almost...in a far off distant way.
i shouldn't get that into it though.
i wish i had taken my camera. i saw some things that
sparked my interest.
[at this point, anything different from the everyday
bullshit i see over and over could spark my interest.]
i can't believe einstein was wrong.
he is wrong.
jackie didn't stick around work tonight. migraine.
i met mike, one of justin's photo buddies from drexel.
he's working at the spirit now. he's a decent guy.
digs atmosphere...that's nuff right?
the flash fucked up again. 3 rolls of film.
108 photos turned to shit.
im reading freud, still.
wish i could talk to him.
figure some stuff out.
if the speed of light isn't constant...incorrect
as a measurement of time, then our perception of
time, obviously must be skewed.
which always leads me back to an almost
compulsive thought, by means of time-theories,
on the role of memory.
i don't know exactly why i keep touching base with the memory
and sentimental aspect of time, but it keeps coming back.
it's strange.
this post kinda is too.
oh well.
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[26 Oct 2003|03:08pm] |
boredum.
i remember being told that 2 years of a person's
life is spent in anticipation.
waiting around...
waiting for something.
whether it be in line.
for the bus.
the class bell to ring.
whatever.
im currently just sitting here
waiting.
xxx
worked last night with jackie.
the cameras have a faulty flash connection.
the pictures looked like shit
to say the least.
it was a good night though.
i never thought jackie and i would
get along so well.
it's a good feeling.
xxx
my lack of 'poetics' has
prompted a total of 3 LJ users
to drop me from their friend lists.
just an observation, i guess.
there's not much i can do
to spark my writing again.
possibly a semester off from school.
i realize how little i appreciated
the time i had a year ago.
xxx
the overcast sky is making me sleepy.
xxx
keeping promises, however trivial they may be,
is always a good thing.
xxx
i have to get back to wilson, fdr,
wwi, and the great depression.
they also, are waiting.
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[05 Oct 2003|01:39pm] |
i've been reading back into the things i used to write.
the things i dreamt up then-- that now, when reading back, i swear
couldn't have a single shred of validity when first written.
with my disposition altered, as well as the faces and things that surround me, i find that some of these writings hold some truth, now.
i'd like to 're-publish' the
pieces that--with a newfound vision-- effect me
and mean more than ever, in this post.
ignore this.
:::on the possibility that there is no trust, even for cowboys:::
asking me/over
he kept asking me/over and over:
'why can't i see your face?'
he grabbed my hand
and fingered my palm.
he drew oceans
and palm trees
with fingers
and closed my hand
to a fist.
told me that i have to keep them
forever/like the luck of broken mirrors;
until i have forgotten
the traces
of land he left in my hand.
'why don't you trust me?'
he began rubbing his forehead.
ripples and oceans across
his temples.
like hell burning--
he smoked his last cigarette, impatiently.
:::no comment:::
untitled: i am removed
i am removed
and let my head fall
collarbone and chin
my hair is spread
something like
spider legs
on the table.
:::on this hunger that dickinson new so well:::
we were sitting on the subway in NYC:
you know, it was raining all day,
& we brought it in with us:
let it settle into dark brown puddles
all along the insides.
& the world swept by us/the world
was fading behind us.
the yellow lights above
beamed down like they knew
she was homeless.
we all knew:
how her belly ached
with hunger.
& there would be
no underside for her to lift
& cup in front of a bathroom mirror.
only, we knew hunger differently.
the gnawing wasn't for nourishment
we could hold in our hands--
cradle/hold between our teeth.
it brought us to our knees
& we rubbed/felt the softness
of our underbellies--
while inside:
the burning
was for some love
we thought/we knew we needed.
that's how it felt.
that's how it felt, then:
the distinct burn
the lack of flesh
& that girl
walking by our wet
bags & feet & eyelashes
with her hand
extended.
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[20 Sep 2003|11:52pm] |
tonight.
i grabbed the bathroom key.
jackie and i walked around the corner and i unlocked
the door as i lit my cigarette.
i locked the door behind me.
she began washing her face.
i kept staring at the smoke detector,
wondering if i'd set it off.
i climbed onto the sink counter, my heels resting
on the edge of the first sink in a row of four.
jackie was at the third sink, currently applying
a bit of foundation.
i looked at my whole body propped ontop of the sink.
stared at my eyes. i looked tired.
i felt shitty. jackie was trying to get me to talk
about what was wrong.
i felt a teeny bit inhibited, i didn't want to sound
human. i wanted to be a rock. stone. a fucking brick wall.
try tearing through me.
i told her anyway. she was applying eyeshadow.
i kept ashing the cigarette into the sink, knowing someone
would find it disgusting the next day.
i thought about rinsing it before i left but it was one
of the two sinks that doesn't function in this bathroom.
jackie said i have two extremes to my personality.
my brick wall. my wire fence.
i told her 3.5 years.
i'm tired. not only from tonight but from the beginning
of everything i can remember.
she asked me if i liked her necklace.
i did.
her earrings were beautiful.
i could never pull off something like that.
i looked over to my right.
two air dryers propped on the wall side to side.
i looked at jackie's body leaning over the sink
in the reflection of the air dryer vent.
i looked at my legs bent at the knee.
i thought about how i don't want to leave my house
ever again.
i wanted to be like jackie at the same time.
i'm just full of contradictions.
i'll always be.
i can't help but hate that.
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[15 Aug 2003|10:31pm] |
went to go see freddy vs. jason.
it was a little too gorey for my taste.
though im a bit eager
to see the texas chainsaw remake.
anyhow. friday night at the mall
and movies is not my thing.
i had a lame-o anxiety attack of some sort.
i wanted to puke.
i'm so damn cool it kills me.
anyway. im working tomorrow.
finally.
im going to radiohead on monday.
and i believe if everything goes as planned
emily, neil and i will be going to pop's to
get our tattoos in 2 weeks [i think?]...ha ha.
sounds kinda lame
all of us goin together...
but they are my friends
so fuck off.
oh and later that day emily and i will be at the
tori amos show...sitting on the lawn...
smoking and relaxing.
i can't wait.
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[15 Aug 2003|03:45pm] |
justin called me earlier today.
prolly while i was sprawled out on my couch
with a blanket, watching the princess and the
warrior.
i called him back and thus
i'll be going back to work sooner than i thought.
thank fucking goodness.
being stuck to the couch and sleeping all day isn't my thing.
also:
-if you're in the philadelphia area.
-unemployed.
-want a job.
-are responsible and always on time or early.
-are willing to dedicate the rest of your
summer to making money.
-enjoy kids.
-know how to work a digital camera.
respond to this post.
xxx
on another note...
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[08 Aug 2003|07:31am] |
all i remember is giggling to myself
in the OR, after they had began giving me
the anesthesia-- i was giggling, i thought,
cause i could hear and feel my stomach
growling. no, i was just fucking giggling.
then, i woke up.
felt drunk. and some dull pain around
my lower abdomen. i had to pee.
but i fell back asleep.
xxx
now, im home.
i'm pretty much fine.
i just don't like looking down at myself
and at the four inches of blood crusted
stitching.
i was prescribed perks, but they won't give them
to me. i got lame codine shit, i have to take 2 for the
perk effect.
xxx
emily is going to stop by later on today.
i'm not sure what to do with myself.
im supposed to be lying down,
but i feel ok.
maybe i'll really try to watch
every movie i own.
anyhow.
this is my vacation.
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[04 Aug 2003|10:42pm] |
this morning around 9 am,
i went outside for a smoke.
my street is mainly occupied by
senior couples, nothing big goes on,
the kids on this block spend their time
relatively bored...unless they have
something other than the lack of excitement
of witler street to keep them occupied.
so it was quiet, of course.
later, after a shower
around 11 am, i went outside
again for another fix.
my block was covered in cops.
an ambulance was making its way off of my
one way street, alarm blaring.
what the fuck?
they were surrounding a house occupied by
a boy, aged 18, his older sister
and her boyfriend...possibly in their
late 20s...early 30s.
an hour later police strung up
caution tape all around the parking space
in front of their house as well as their
neighbors across the street 15 feet away.
before i left for emily's house
i spoke to an older couple of neighbors
trying to find out what exactly
was going on.
apparently, the 18 year old loner
kid that lived in the house
had lost his hand or
most of his fingers.
a small explosion they said.
i just got home recently,
and missed everything.
my brother told me that my
frined becky across the street
saw him before he got taken away in the
ambulance...sitting on his front step...
crying and screaming...his whole
body covered in blood.
she also overheard the cops
during a conversation...where
they said the boy had enopugh explosives
in his house to take out my whole fucking block.
jesus fucking holy mother of pisshell.
what in the fucking world.
it's terrifying.
to know that one random day
everyone here could have been killed.
yet, i can't help but feel
terribly bad for this boy.
he's definately a loner,
and i know what that is like.
i know how it feels.
i've only seen him a grand total
of 2 times.
first about a year ago
when they first moved in, it was cold
i remember i had my independent hoodie
on, walking home from christie's house.
he said something to me and i ignored him,
mainly cause i was listening to some cd.
then, i saw him recently. maybe a week ago.
doug had come over and i was seeing him out,
also checkin out his new car.
he walked by.
he was tall.
long stoner-rock-type hair.
glasses, i think.
i felt inclined to talk to him but
i didn't. anyhow.
now, not only did he lose his hand.
but his life is fucked.
the explosives will send him to jail.
especially if they decide, or find
proof that he intended to use them
to destroy anything. anyone.
it's on the news.
1935 witler street.
jesus christ.
im in shock.
that's it.
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