im sure you'll be the death of me.



Why aren't you dating anyone?

dont forget what i told you.
dont come around.
ive got my own hell to raise.

[ im sure this is a bad idea..... ]

josh smalls: waterwings.

all this means
is im to well versed in all the modern scenes.


shh...im reading.

knut hamsun


a friend indeed.

this is love.


do you know what i love the most?

alright, okay. you win.



Who is the "Him" you often refer to on your blog?

there are, have been, will be many "him"s.
he's a metaphor.
hes me.
hes them.
and im guessing if you have to ask.
then obviously.
he's not you.

[ im sure this is a bad idea..... ]


under the weather.


hey you.

make my day.


What's your biggest phobia?

i watch was too much forensic files, so im always creeped out that im gonna be murdered and chopped up into little pieces and then no one finds me so i get eatn by lil forest animals, which isnt bad because i love the forest, but i really wanted to be be baked into weed brownies and fed to all my friends....
oh wait.
whats was that?

[ im sure this is a bad idea..... ]

sidelights on relativity.

its past due.
the seats at the table of time.
are slowly filling.

my time.
during these past hundreds of days.
as been something of change.
like the weather.
and my hair.

ive been staying up to watch the sunrise.
and laying down to spite myself.

ive been sitting in seedy place.
with shady faces.
ive been smoozing and boozing my way.
through the week.

on any givin tuesday
im having a two saturday nights.
and a friday afternoon.

so it seems that.
with all these nights I cant remember.

ive never felt so much like myself.
like the girl I used to be.
the one without wake up calls.
and preconceived notions.
sleep schedules.
that girl without shoes.

all these calenders
ive got them everywhere.
each date different.
although each date feels the same.
just as plain.

they smile.
i smile.
i sit.
they respond.
i repeat.
and my mind wanders.

else where.

to others.
to tomorrow and the day before.
to later on.

and him.

with his arrogance.
and my modestness.
impassive to their questions and glances.
arms length and pillow talk.
taking precedent of everyone elses opinions.
in continuum.

and else where.
the clock changes.
its all over their faces.
unbeknownst to us.

we both understand.
while it taste the same.
this is no killer.
all filler.
something to pass.

but in the meantime.
and the inbetween times.

for me.
its barstool and back rooms.
and smiling.
and sitting.
and wandering.
asking myself how many hours in the day.
and bottles does it take
to peel the label.
off of me.



please, rewind.






where have i been.
with all this falling from the sky.

my head involuntary reactions.
to my heart.

learning not to lean.
reading inbetween.

this winter has proven.
something of contentment.

between bedsheets.
and street signs.
somehow ive still found the time.
to let go.

ive been spreading myself.
opening my arms.
closing doors.

behind them theres lights and whispers.
and sudden movements.
and snow.

the whiteness.
blacks out any misconceptions.
rearranges my reflection.
showing them what they want to see.

standing above.
looking up.
theres nothing else to talk about.
but the weather.
and me.


ask and you shall receive....