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tuesday night

Xtina-Christina. And Frank Sinatra. Merlin is magical. Nothing but net. Peace. Backrubs. Swimming. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming. Spending time. Wasting time. No class. Radio. Radio. Radio. Regina. Oh Spektor’s Move Like Pilot Planes. Cherry Chapstick. Quirks. Annoying quirks. Yeah annoying. Talking to Merlin. Fisheyes. Picture messages. Messy. Nikes. Nikes. Bells. Ah ah ah. Forgetting the words to your favorite song. Pianos. Bells. Pianos. Sick tummy. Sad eyes never lie. I’m a sweater stealer.

 

terrible dreams

Had the most terrible dream last night. I can say I learned one thing: being pregnant is awful.

Maybe I was dreaming about that because I’ve been reading too much Anne Sexton and Sylvia Plath for my Women’s Literature class. And thinking about Revolutionary Road. And how your life is over once you fall in love and get married and have children. And how you have to start wearing “comfortable” tennis shoes just so you can manage a stroller all day. And how a car isn’t big enough anymore. And how you start eating macaroni and cheese three times a week.

Short haircuts and Legos and Barbies.

 

Maybe there is one good thing that comes from having children: finally having someone to talk about dinosaurs with.

 

currently listening to: Our Hell by Emily Haines and the Soft Skeleton

pretty

Pretty tired. Pretty happy. Lots to do. Lots to do. Let’s get going already. Hurry, was the word.

 

currently listening to: Mushaboom by Feist

another nothing Friday

I am crazy. Pullman has such an unsettling feeling lately. I can’t get anything done. Everything is out of order. Constantly sick and sleepless. I know I’m not the only one. How can everything straighten out? Should I be doing something or just let it happen?

Cars of people are always passing by. They just keep getting faster and faster.

 

currently listening to: A Long December

It is yet another Sunday without sun. Clouds covering my town. Clothes covering my floor. Every Sunday is driven by coffee and music. I guess every day is. I need some drive to get off the computer and into my reading. It is so hard when Sam Beam is singing sweet southern stories into my room.

I keep meeting people. More and more and more people. I didn’t know I would have so many encounters by the time I was twenty.

I need to write. And decorate my room.

Everything is great. Great. Please don’t mess it up.

 

currently listening to: Sodom South Georgia by Iron & Wine

OK, I admit it.

currently listening to: Northwestern Girls by Say Hi

that one-way ticket

It keeps getting ripped in half. And then in half again. And then again.

currently listening to: This Blackest Purse by WHY?

picture this:

Woman sitting upon her bed reading Virginia Woolf and pondering “Why was one one sex so prosperous and the other so poor? What effect has poverty on fiction? What conditions are necessary for the creation of works of art?”. Coffee in hand, highlighter (orange) in other. Another woman walking two small dogs just outside the first’s open window. 09-012 Pullman Police car parked outside. Left wheels to the curb. Background noise consists of distant driving cars, the blue-sky breeze, “I believe in yesterday”, birds and her own thoughts of another. Cold feet.

Repeat.

Thirteen, Ben Kweller.

Girl times a million.