Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Gus and Tenzin



Tenzin is seven, and has the biggest eyes I have ever seen on any child. She speaks of romance as if she is a 90 year old woman, and walks with the posture of a ruler of nations.

Gus is four, and has the belly laugh of his mother. He is sensitive, knows his limits, and is the companion of all companions.

I was an au pair for four years and
only recently have been away from these children for an extended period of time.

I miss them more than I've ever missed anyone.

I wish I was an immediate sleeper.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

We've got a Runner

I run.

I'm good at it, too. I know just when to run, and for exactly how long to run before its no longer worth the effort. I run mostly because I'm scared, but sometimes because I'm being stubborn.

Maybe I'm stubborn because I'm scared.

Who really gives a fuck.

I got in a fight with Kate tonight and some things came out of her that I couldnt handle. I was a bad friend, and she knew it. I thought maybe I had gotten away with it. That she was stupid. But I was the fool and I got out of the car without saying a word.

I clam up.

I get home, throw my shoes around, run the bath, and soak. Soak until my pores are no longer excreting, but rather... swelling.

And I still have nothing to say. And I won't until its no longer worth the effort.

Monday, January 15, 2007

the 18

my younger brother jose just turned 18. less than an hour ago.
he means so much to me, im really hard on him.
he is going to be an amazing man. im so proud of him.
jose wants to be cinematographer, and i know he will be great at that.
we walked down to the little gas station in layers and layers (snow to our knees)
i bought a strawberry milk and he bought himself a cigar.

he snuck me 2 bucks for a mickeys ice. i caved.

there is so much i have i dont deserve and jose falls in this catagory.

Saturday, January 13, 2007

Favorite (ist) song ever EVER

Remember the Mountain Bed

Do you still sing of the mountain bed we made of limbs and leaves?
Do you still sigh there near the sky where the holly berry bleeds?
You laughed as I covered you over with leaves
Face, breast, hips, and thighs
You smiled when I said the leaves were just the color of your eyes
Rosin smells and turpentine smells from eucalyptus and pine
Bitter tastes of twigs we chewed where tangled wood vines twine
Trees held us in on all four sides so thick we could not see
I could not see any wrong in you, and you saw none in me
Your arm was brown against the ground, your cheeks part of the sky
Your fingers played with grassy moss, as limber you did lie
Your stomach moved beneath your shirt and your knees were in the air
Your feet played games with mountain roots as you lay thinking there
Below us the trees grew clumps of trees, raised families of trees, and they
As proud as we tossed their heads in the wind and flung good seeds away
The sun was hot and the sun was bright down in the valley below
Where people starved and hungry for life so empty come and go
There in the shade and hid from the sun we freed our minds and learned
Our greatest reason for being here, our bodies moved and burned
There on our mountain bed of leaves we learned life's reason why
The people laugh and love and dream, they fight, they hate to die
The smell of your hair I know is still there, if most of our leaves are blown
Our words still ring in the brush and the trees where singing seeds are sown
Your shape and form is dim but plain, there on our mountain bed
I see my life was brightest where you laughed and laid your head...
I learned the reason why man must work and how to dream big dreams
To conquer time and space and fight the rivers and the seas
I stand here filled with my emptiness now and look at city and land
And I know why farms and cities are built by hot, warm, nervous hands
I crossed many states just to stand here now, my face all hot with tears
I crossed city, and valley, desert, and stream, to bring my body here
My history and future blaze bright in me and all my joy and pain
Go through my head on our mountain bed where I smell your hair again.
All this day long I linger here and on in through the night
My greeds, desires, my cravings, hopes, my dreams inside me fight:
My loneliness healed, my emptiness filled, I walk above all pain
Back to the breast of my woman and child to scatter my seeds again
-good ol woodie

Sunday, January 7, 2007

Contribute

For two people to really commit to a relationship is a pretty rare occasion. I mean, real commitment. Fights, cheating, lying, leaving, returning, all of it.

The thing with real relationships are this. They are few, they are necessary, and they are oh so difficult to maintain. Well, some of them.

I have a friend who is self destructive to the max. When I met her, I knew it. And now, 5 years later, it has only evolved and worsened. I am her friend. And being someones friend is not a selfish bargain. In fact, true friendship comes down to how selfless you can possibly be.
Pride aside, what can you do for them. Contribute. By being there.

"Being there"

Even if for no reason.

My sister does this this for me. She has no reason to let me stumble in her house at 4 in the morning, but she lets me. She doesnt kiss my ass. She tells me if I'm being irrational, and I tell her when shes overbearing.

I like where we are. I know it will only become greater. There's only one thing that makes old friends, and that is time.

To give your time to someone is the greatest gift. Really.

I believe this.

Thursday, January 4, 2007

Virtue in germany!

i bet too much. they other day i bet my virtue...
a silly bet, which i only -barely- won.


can you imagine? my virtue sitting around in a thirty year old bartender's studio apartment?

last night i had no cake, but it was my birthday. i am young and hopeful.

photos are coming soon!

Tuesday, January 2, 2007

Romance


I was reading today that the reason many people fail in life is because it's what they actually want. The romance and tragedy of being a drunken, brokenhearted fool. The irony of being a pregnant drug addict. The pain of life..."My life is so so hard". And that's it. The needle in their side. The thing they hate, but silently cant sleep without. Booze, sex, drugs, porn, lies, cuts, bruised thighs, swollen tear ducts.

I met a man the other day who had talent and wit and charm. he spoke of stars and books and beautiful women. but the sun always set too early on him. and like a cartoon figure or something you saw when were young, the beauty became a vulgar shadow, cursing and grabbing women in all directions. Clogged pores become visible and I had to get away.

At what point did we all become werewolves?

Romance is not dead.

I'm convinced.

It doesn't grow on trees either. Its found in things that dirty writers know nothing of. Its found in innocence, honesty, youth and old age. Not in smoking three packs a day and wondering where your underwear are. Holding your tongue, and controlling your actions, not worrying about yourself. Taking care of others. Real romance is rare.

I remember reading something in high school that went something like "spontaneity for the sake is spontaneity is not spontaneous."

I say the same for romance, and that's it.

I am 21 tomorrow. eek.