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just like honey
05 February 2008 @ 11:28 am
You're probably getting spammed with this message. I hope you are.
Go out and vote, please. It's easy and important, and you get a sticker and all. I don't care who or what you vote for, but Wikipedia can give you a brief glance at the candidates (if you've managed to miss them so far), and your preferred party (if you have one) will have endorsed a response to initiatives and other ballot items, and if all else fails, go with your gut and remember that you don't have to vote on everything for your ballot to count. You're allowed to be undecided on some things, just please consider whether you want to be undecided on all things, and whether you really, deep down, are.
Thanks.
 
 
just like honey
24 January 2008 @ 01:38 pm
This is the time of year, between the new year and my birthday, when I usually like to make a post talking about how last year was not so great but this next year should be--will be, really--amazing. Last year was mostly not so great, it's true, but it was amazing, too. It was amazing that a year could be so not great yet so unremarkable in its various lows and setbacks, and it was amazing that through all of that I was surrounded by so many kind and generous friends. My friends really are some of the very best people.
That's all I have to say about last year, anyway, and seeing as threats, pleading, wishing, and prayer have never done much for my future in past years, I'll just say that next year will probably happen, is already happening. I hope that we can all survive it. And if we can't, I hope it's beautiful, anyway.
 
 
milieu: at home
music: Remember The Years-Glee Club
 
 
just like honey
15 January 2008 @ 06:57 am
Amazing fog.
 
 
milieu: at home
music: White Sand-Wai Pi Wai
 
 
just like honey
03 January 2008 @ 12:25 pm
From weatherunderground.com:
 
 
milieu: at home
music: The Proposition #1-Nick Cave & Warren Ellis
 
 
just like honey
25 December 2007 @ 11:17 am
And nothing says merry like a marine.
 
 
milieu: at home
mood: festive, et cetera
music: I Hear the Bells-Mike Doughty
 
 
 
just like honey
14 December 2007 @ 08:20 am
There's something on the tip of my tongue that isn't my tongue.
I feel abstract. I feel like my face is pulled sideways, and my foot is bruised--how did my foot get bruised? And I think maybe I want to cry, but that seems like wanting to be, I don't know, Tunisian--I guess I know where it is, I guess I could find it on a map, but I don't know how you get there, how you make yourself that thing, and it's kind of tiring to try. And I know maybe I'm being a little crazy, and I'm worrying about my teeth, I'm not sleeping, I think maybe my hands are someone else's, but these things are really real, not these worries maybe (maybe?), but the other ones--these are real life things and I should worry, I can't just go be crazy at them, they won't fix themselves. Like money and credit and home and who I like and who I don't like and how much I can stand and is a body an idea or a thing? And my father, but I can't get started on my father, even if Christmas really is all about family.
He isn't the point though, really at all.
I wish you were here to hold my hand, and if you were here I'd make you go, because I can't stand the mirror seeing me like this, much less another person mirror, or another person, or you anyway, understand? My foot is bruised and I'm being ridiculous, and I cleaned up a bit, but I'm still feeling bad about myself--still, I keep thinking: everything is all my fault, mine mine mine mine, it is mine only, my very own thing. Dearest thing.
Nothing is real life. Nothing is possible. Nothing is more than these times in which I cannot sleep, and the times when I can only sleep. What I have I eat, ashes or otherwise, and it's the only way, or the only one I know.
I meant to say something else here. It'll come back to me, maybe.
 
 
milieu: meat
music: noise
 
 
just like honey
03 December 2007 @ 04:15 pm
My apologies if you've tried to call me lately. My phone is dropping calls and failing to report voicemail and not logging and...well. It's not the most reliable way to reach me.
If you're needing to reach me, email is probably the way to go.
 
 
just like honey
12 November 2007 @ 10:15 pm
Josh showed me this marvelous thing.
You deserve marvelous things.
 
 
music: Lover, You Should've Come Over-Jeff Buckley
 
 
just like honey
10 November 2007 @ 12:52 am
I wish I could show you this night. All stars and sky like the color of bruises, love-bruises, tied down on the trunks of fat palms, evergreens, and all the orange and gold and scarlet trees; this improbable forest lit with haloed street lamp light. And it smells of cold and some faint animal thing, and you run to breathe it in deeper, run til your heart fills your chest, scattering leaves and getting your sneakers wet, and it wounds you, love-wounds, because it's so much and so transient.
I don't know how to tell you. Too many words and no way to bottle them.
The night's like a secret, like something I'm getting away with. If you were here, you would know me, maybe, stirring like the leaves.
 
 
music: Sweet Thing-Van Morrison
 
 
just like honey
08 November 2007 @ 03:43 am
This is a true thing:
Things are desperate, things are dull. The more modest the exterior the more my mind is alive with fire; every defeat an agony, every pleasure too glorious, wrenching, sharp with revelry and regret. It undoes me.

This is a true thing:
One day last week there was an awful stranger in my house, and by and by I determined that she was me. So I went out, and she left too. When I came back, she wasn't there.

This is a true thing:
You will realize that you love me when you understand how I have moved time--by will alone!--to tell you again and again, in words beyond language, I have this one pure thing.
And when you love me, you'll take it, thank God. Take it and bury it deep.

This is a true thing:
It doesn't stop; I see it shine against my shut eyes when I try to fall asleep, all too much. School shootings, police states, still birds nailed to a wall, and beauty too--near stars, miracle cures, the smell of you. And it strangles my heart with all this sighing.
Don't. Stop. Don't stop.

This is a true thing:
Everyone lies all the time. Our first lies we tell ourselves, and these are the last we still believe.