anything to make you smile

you are the ever living ghost of what once was.

one day some day, soon soon my dear

This is the first day of my life
Swear I was born right in the doorway
I went out in the rain
Suddenly everything changed
They're spreadin' blankets on the beach

Yours is the first face that I saw
Think I was blind before I met you
I don't know where I am
I don't know where I've been
But I know where I want to go
So I thought I'd let you know
That these things take forever
I especially am slow
But I realized that I need you
And I wondered if I could come home

I remember the time you drove all night
Just to meet me in the morning
And I thought it was strange
You said everything changed
You felt as if you'd just woke up
And you said,
This is the first day of my life,
Glad I didn't die before I met you
But now I don't care I could go anywhere with you
And I'd probably be happy.

So if you wanna be with me
With these things there's no telling
We'll just have to wait and see
But I'd rather be working for a paycheck
Than waiting to win the lottery

Besides maybe this time it's different
I mean I really think you'll like me...

e.e. cummings, you make me cry

went to a bookstore today via bus in downtown portland for far too long. spent hours reading poetry and bought an e.e. cummings book for $9.50, plus no tax because tax sucks and portland rules. i cried a few times because Don McKay, Charles Bukowski, and E.E. Cummings stole my heart with their words. or rather, stole my words with their hearts.
i was there for a total of three hours, and i only left the poetry section once to make a phone call. i think i stole poetry but in a way where it's probably very legal. does copying poems into the last few pages of my moleskin count as stealing? i felt somehow guilty for doing so instead of actually buying the books.
leaving tomorrow at 5 A.M. homeward bound. home to santa rosa, then to san francisco, back to rohnert park, back to santa rosa, and off to new york where i will be for the next 5 months. cold, because right now it's probably a few below 20 degrees. cold, because i'll be without certain people who light up my life in a very warm way. i'll be cold without them.
i fell in love with portland almost as much as i fell in love with new york. it's crazy to see how different people are in different places. i'll live here someday, soon, i know. after, maybe before, i come back home to live in the bay area. we'll see when this all unravels, or rather, ravels.
i miss the memories that were so good and so great. spokane was nothing like i ever expected or ever imagined, let alone was anywhere i ever thought i'd end up until i was standing on an icy sidewalk, hungover and sharing a cigarette and smoking a bowl with good friends. a situation where i had no time to imagine all the possibilities and one of the few times in my life where i let things just happen as they evolve. this has all evolved so hopelessly into a something i had no time to imagine. years ahead is somewhere i am afraid to even think about, but where i am anxious to be. time is love, and love is time. i have a feeling we'll both be there in the end.





it is so long since my heart has been with yours
shut by our mingling arms through
a darkness where new lights begin and
increase,
since your mind has walked into
my kiss as a stranger
into the streets and colours of a town---

that i have perhaps forgotten
how,always(from
these hurrying crudities
of blood and flesh)Love
coins His most gradual gesture

and whittles life to eternity

---after which our separating selves become museums
filled with skilfully stuffed memories



e.e.
cummings

Gina - haiku

Your hair is scrunchy
and your bellybutton so shiny
How did you get so tan?

i get lonely sometimes, too

we're so in love, but so out of sync. you crave me at the moments where i can hardly remember your name, let alone remember the way i feel about you. when i am ready to remember, you are ready to forget. run away for those few weeks that i'm willing to give to you. you used to be so cute to me, asking me questions about what i like or don't, ask me out on a date. but these are things you say to me thousands of miles away. question you'll ponder when you are far enough away for it to be safe. where you can hide behind time and hide behind distance. because in the morning light there's nothing to hide behind besides the truth, squeezed between your grip and my body.

e.e. cummings

somewhere i have never traveled

somewhere i have never traveled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

$381...NOT

just got home from traffic court. as long as i don't get pulled over in the next 4 months, i don't have to pay my $381 ticket. which should not be a problem, given that i live in a city with the best public transportation in the US, and will not drive a car for the next six months guaranteed. yay for going to school full time and the judge loving me. i feel so much richer now. this is what you get for being one of the few not-trashy people in court.


tea time.

too true to be good

bowling tonight, possibly a trip to san fran after. a little bit of drunk...i deserve it after being so sober in order to not get sicker. traffic court wednesday, print some photo's tuesday, grocery shopping and getting ready thursday. see a few friends in between. soak up all the good california rain. i need to shower and clean, why am i writing this? this is silly.


i'm afraid to go back to new york weather. i get cold just thinking about it.

going to bed 4 AM too late

having a dream about being in france - just hanging out - priceless.

but i'm starting to freak out. going back to new york to begin my insane life again. no time, for anything. i have 2 days to move before classes start, and no car to do it. i'm not one to ask others for help, ever. doing things on my own and by my self is the way things go, always. it's how my philosophy works, and how i remember that my philosophy is seriously fucked up. i will give and give and give and give to people and to my friends and to the ones i care about, yet i never expect anything back. the idea of someone doing these things for me strikes me as impossible. i'm never trying to inconvenience anyone, while i go out of my way with no question when people inconvenience me. and to add to this, relying on anyone but myself has become something i avoid completely. always getting fucked over by others, i realize that you can't trust anyone but yourself.
my one clear option for moving can't work. i have an aunt in jersey who would stop time to help me in any way, but for her to drive her million dollar range rover into the ghetto in brooklyn is not happening. no way in hell can i let her see my neighborhood let alone my apartment. i have a feeling new york is going to be exactly how i left it, and how it left me. a week of scurrying around, freaking out, not getting any sleep, worrying about time and about money and about what the fuck i'm doing. i don't even have a bed.

typing on chloe minervini's computer

my throat hurts today. i couldn't figure out why so i decided to believe my life on the west coast is just bits and pieces of other people's lives here. my soar throat isn't really mine. it's yours. my sobriety is also yours and so is my sanity. or in this case, the lacking of both those things. sorry that i called you and sorry that i left you the longest voicemail in the universe. it wasn't my voicemail, it was yours. i am not really angry at you, you are angry at you. you are angry at yourself and here i am to take it all in, right where you wanted me. i am a little sponge and i bask in this nothingness and take it all in. this is my only way of survival. if i didn't have your trials and tribulations, i would have nothing. this is not my fault, it is yours. i am your loneliness and your company, which ever you may choose. i am your regret. i am only these things while i am here, and when i go, you go. all the bits and pieces and parts of you that i accumulated disappear. this is not my fault, it's yours.

i had sex with your girlfriend

and you thought it was the other way around. what you know you don't even know. what i know, i'm finding hard to believe.

californication

being here without a purpose is the end to me. i sit in this nostalgic mind set of summer 2008; somewhere where i never want to be again. the more time moves on the worse it gets and at the very same time, the better it gets. santa rosa is seriously a drug. i hate it. but i love it. the only escape is either all or nothing. either i stay happily(?) or i go back to new york and forget about everyone and everything. there is no compromise. it brings me down so far, yet i want it so incredibly. this sucks.