love knots.

there was a lot of dirt beneath those books that i began to lay, across my floor, when we first began. i pulled them up this evening, and the staples were just as hard to remove as they were to put in. the first few were laid out so gently, and thoughtlessly. one was from the childhood; most of the others, found. the more i started to think about pages and placement, the construction of the path, the more the voluminous the books became. their pages beginning to rise up, as if to escape. i held off for a few months, in hopes of finding the right books, that would fall open to right pages to guide me on this miniature path of knowledge. the first coincidental pages that i'd opened up to, spoke to me. telling two page, mid-story tales about love, journeys and friendship. the final books came to me in bulk, as a gift, and when i finally found the motivation, i laid them out.

but the last few fell silent. i'd anchored them down without direction, without true passion, but with desire for completion. i pulled them up today to see how easy, or difficult it would be to pull them up- to see if the staples had left their mark in my floor- to see the damage done. maybe i pulled them up because i needed to see my floor again. i had to complete the path for the satisfaction of doing so. i had to erase the path for the pleasure of starting a new one.

my stomach has been writhing about all day. it's finally settled, so i can sleep.

xx

i think the fruit flies are returning

and i believe every creak

to be the pitter-patter of mice.

i can't tell if i'm going crazy, 

or if i'm crazy 

because i'm not going. 

i had to fall over to find balance

i had to clean up to clear my mind. 

sufficient      

suffice 

satisfied. 

teach me the difference. 

i must know everything.

i do know everything!

this, you see has always been
 a problem of mine.

a gift! a problem!

my synonymous moniker. 

      i'm going to build the greatest 

                                                                                                               bank of knowledge 

                                                                                                  of all time. 

but I won't listen to a thing. 

even when you tell me the truth. 

i'm sorry. 

i'm happy you came. 

may i take off your shoes?

would you stay awhile?

if you build it, they will come.

but if i print the postcards i make, will you buy them?

crumpled sheets / mounded blankets

Clinging to the edges of the sink, Elisa stood, head hanging, eyes closed. After mustering up the strength to let go of the porcelain, she splashes water on her face. The few vague memories she has of last night aren't really clicking. Who the fuck is that in my bed? The thought alone should have conjured up feelings of panic- but Elisa just shlepped out of the bathroom, down the corridor, back to her room. She's no stranger to strangers.

"Hey," she whispered, to the indistinguishable figure. She walked towards the mound of blankets, and a little louder this time, says "Hey... Umm you're going to have to get going okay? I need to leave for work."

The body stirred and Elisa bent over to pick up the jeans on the floor beside the mattress. As the change emptied from the pockets onto the hardwood floors, the stranger sat up. Elisa turned away, partially because she wasn't expecting such a bold presentation of nudity, but mostly because she wasn't expecting to see a woman.

"Oh... hey," Carolina muttered, tussling her pixie cut as she walked towards Elisa. "Thanks for letting me crash here. I was really messed up when we left the party last night."

The jingling of her belt buckle was not helping Elisa concentrate. What party? At the beginning of the night she'd been at a bar in Midtown with her co-workers, drinking heavily because... well, she was at a bar in Midtown with her coworkers. After that there was a stop at Mullane's on 10th and now she was handing a woman her pants.

"I'm sorry, you'll have to forgive me. I don't quite remember your name..."
"Carolina. We met at Jake's place last night... Oh God. Were you really drunk last night? I wouldn't have come with you." The pace at which she dressed quickened and Elisa sat down.

"Uh, yeah, no it's fine. You're fine. I'm sorry. I just don't really remember any of this. Jake is a buddy of mine from college... I knew he was having something at his house last night but," she chuckled, "I don't quite recall actually going. Did we..?" The idea of it all was stinging her thoughts like ice water through her veins.

"NO. Not at all! You offered me a spot to crash because I was a train wreck. I'm not a lesbian or anything, just a lady in need."

Elisa breathed a sigh of relief. This wasn't the first time she'd woken up with an unrecognizable face in her bed. The last occurrence had not gone nearly as smoothly; she almost wanted to invite Carolina out to lunch.  Ten minutes later when the door clicked, Elisa listened to Carolina's footsteps descend the stairs and arched her back with her arms pressed against the door. Her lower back and hamstrings were thankful, her pounding head and pulsating innards felt quite the contrary.

How long will I be like this? 


"I have to go work."



Creative Writing prompt: freewrite for three minutes on the cliche "ice water in her veins"

she keeps passing you by

There was a hatch, in the kitchen that lead to your room. When your parents decided to move to Pennsylvania, you had a going away party. About 40 of your friends showed up, 45 actually, I remember counting. They smoked weed and I left the room. You had a friend in a TOOL hat out front, and I sat with him. We poured salt on a snail and I listened to "Hooker with a Penis" for the first time. I felt guilty about the snail and I loved the song. Somehow watching a directly harmful action turn into a directly harmful result stuck with me. I realize this now, but I'm sure I realized it then. When I went back inside I learned what a contact high was. It was always strange to reemerge from the hatch- I never knew if your mom would be there, your younger brother, your sister. We were in a different realm.

Before THE party, there were parties. The thong pinned to your walls. You were the cool kid. You drove. No one in Brooklyn drove. Forgive me for remembering you as though you don't live, but I don't know you anymore... so you must expect me to consider the you I knew as gone. The only seventeen year old with a sex tape. You were a legend beyond your own years. When it finally happened, you looked right at me and said, "you're not even here, are you?" You were right.

.xx.

It was briefly after September 11th. I was in the shower and I lifted my ponytail in the shower and cut it off. My phone rang, the one with Snake on it- a Nokia. My best friend was calling to tell me that she loved me. "Warning" was playing and it was the first time she'd told me that, also the first time I'd heard it (from someone I wasn't related to). Not that I hear that song often, but I think about that moment in my mother's bathtub every time I hear it. I think of her often, as I don't let go easily. In the video, which I haven't seen since that year, there's a girl who screams in silence and shatters glass. Was it near September 11th? Or did she just call to tell me that she loved me? I remembered the important part nonetheless. The love.

Rewatching the video, she didn't shatter the glass at all. Memories are really over fantasized/falsified versions of reality after all. (But I loved the hell out of her too). I'm flying to California to touch a face I love. It's not the smartest move to make- but as I read the other day, tell someone you love them... to their face.

Remember life, can be, will be, is, good.

i always cry at endings

i bought her cigarettes before i knew what they were i watched the ball drop year after year this time, I closed my eyes and made no resolutions.

This was the second one:

[click to enlarge] When I made it I thought of Sable, whose affection towards rabbits is beyond me. I don't really care for their misconstrued personalities (most of them are evil!) but I enjoyed making this nonetheless. xx.