vegetarian

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lately i've been feeling fully charged, yet incapable of releasing my energy. as if my very bloodstream was the galvanic infrastructure of a ticking time bomb. perhaps it's just the overwhelming amount of schoolwork. or maybe it's just the trouble i'm having with a couple of my friends. i'm really not all that sure.
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i was playing the piano today and i realized that my voice, even when i sing loudly, is soft. i tend to have a raspier voice when i sing. and yes,it was always like that. no, it's not because of all of the cigarettes. i figured out the chords for "breathe me" and started to follow along, letting the piano carry my voice because goodness knows its music is stronger than i am, changing a little bit of sia's lyrics as the song progressed. it was nice; it suspended all of the internal energy, even if only for a short moment.
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the bite is deep. and as summer fades the hand that rested so easily on your skin starts to feel foreign and misused.
untouch me. let the air and space between us grow; give me the bed of leaves to fall on, and i promise to let the love that was made remain somewhat unspoken.
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i live, not asleep but not awake either, wandering through the dry spots of riverbeds, thinking that i can get the animals to follow me with wide eyes and trust. what am i, what am i...




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she returns.

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i am back. hello. actually, i returned from the east coast at the beginning of the week, but i've been so fucking busy that i haven't been able to update. anyway, i've been so caught up in myself these days. i feel selfish.

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highlights of my trip included getting teary-eyed at princeton, getting hit on by a thirty-something white guy and then a couple of twenty-something black guys, chain smoking on the sidewalk with black coffee and an issue of i-D, making eyes at the tour guide, who was actually only 27, and the cute italian waiter that i bummed a cigarette from. i also made conversation with a man that looks almost like this one sexy canadian actor that i know. i also bummed a cigarette from him when i was at the pier in new york. he had nice jeans and a very black jacket. i spent a lot of time sitting on random benches, sketching people. ny wasn't as fun as it could have been if it was just me and my friends there; not that its ever really all that much fun to me in the first place--i like la better. more music, better fashion, more personality. folks get it right. anyway, i thought of going to woosters or misshapes, but with woosters it was too far from where the group was supposed to meet back, and i didn't want to risk being late with the subway, and with misshapes, the tour guide offered to take me later when every one else was at the hotel, but transportation was a problem since we were in jersey for the nights. cars suck, sleep sucks, kaboom. he and i did have some nice half korean half english conversations in the hotel lobbies, though. it was all very cold and rainy and wonderful. i smoked too much and only slept two nights out of six. i thought about my friends and the day i spent with lily. i moped over the fact that i've wasted so much time. it runs like rain on the sidewalk. it runs like rain on the sidewalk.
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i also turned sixteen this past monday. but i'm celebrating this saturday at le diplomate. should be fun, and lily i'm so sad that you can't be there :[
my mother got me the 10th anniversary limited collector's edition of the bbc pride and prejudice series, my father gave me flowers (yellow roses and white tuips), my sister a pinkish robe made out of terry, and neha gave me her gift early--the movie script from moulin rouge, in all of its rawness and wonder :]
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after spring break i didn't go to school for a couple of days. i got really fucking sick during my trippo. it was only a little cold then, but when i got back i had a fever. i just spent a lot of time in bed and thought a lot. i think i've disappointed so many people. it makes me wonder if one day everyone will lose faith in me, and if people have too much faith in me from the start, or i'm just really that bad.
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i wrote this last summer. i know i've been posting a lot of my older work, but my these days, i've been having difficulty writing. i've kind of moved away from trying to articulate my emotions, and i can feel it-- too much head, not enough heart and blood and guts.

They made love outside, mid-sundown, in the warm and luxurious evening air. The sky looked as if a goddess had wrenched her insides—her soul—around, looking for something as beautiful as her reflection, and having found something that came close, spilled it out into the atmosphere. Everything seemed satisfied, and relieved, lacking tension or unanswered questions. The hazy mustard light struck the grass and their slicked skin, casting them in bronze, and hiding their flaws. Rays of the setting sun slipped through the space between their faces and the slivers of emptiness in their hair; their kisses made shadows that didn’t appear to be cold, or even dark. Things moved slow, without fear and with so much joy—not so much as to be described as languid, but slow enough to deceive one into thinking that time might be aware of its prisoners. Nothing was rushed, and the sounds were only of murmurs, happy sighs, and birds… The moments seemed so mercifully slow…
But honestly, it doesn’t take long to make love, and the sun must set, as it always does, presenting us to night, and wishing us luck. Questions then return, accompanied by remorse and second thoughts. Love loses its calm, smiling frivolity, and so does joy; stone is brought in to replace it. The grass seems sharp with shame and uncertainty, and the noises they make seem louder, more obtrusive. Perspiration no longer has a sweet aroma; it is only a mold of vulnerability—every slight breeze brushes cold onto their bodies in thick, mocking strokes. They were not safe from themselves anymore, and the deepened shadows are like entirely separate, unknown worlds of amorphous and dark movement. It is harder for them to look at each other in the eye; pupils tremor with new knowledge and new distance. There is discord. The ivory of the moon reminds them of their bones, which suddenly seem more susceptible to aches, and when they shift uncomfortably, his touch seems so foreign to her, and hers is all too familiar to him. They realize that the love they made was of a weak brand, and this is disillusioning, for there was such poetry before; such completeness and warmth. And they feel like strangers who must start all over again, who, in order to find purpose, must begin from scratch with each other. But both of them find that it is easier to move along and live without reason, for the loss of love hurts and they now doubt whether or not they have strength enough to endure such pain.
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and also..

You were wearing a rainbow,
pouring those colors straight into me
with sighs and caresses
of my lower back and hips.
And I, made of dust,
blew history into your mouth,
mixing into the moisture, a proof
of my fall of Rome
and your Renaissance.
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notice. we are impermanent.

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i am leaving for spring break; shall be back in approximately a week and will then post a ton of pictures and whatnot from both my trip and my day with lily (which was AWESOME)

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i was rummaging through my old writing and found this from last summer :



good for you

Perhaps that's all it was—
another sugary curve on her body,
like that damn exposed neck.
Luring a tongue to paint it
in moisture; in that brush-like way of yours.
Ever though it was a want and not a need.
Or maybe it was my lack of sugary curves.
Maybe my lips tasted
of Epsom salt.
Everyone I know prefers honey.

I'm only grasping for a reason, though.
Because after days of refilling tumblers
and self-directed, croaking "cheers," chain-
smoking to try and dim my painfully clear
vision, and shot after shot
after shot…

I waited when you called, listening to your
ambiguous explanations and
eventually hearing the click of dead
communication on your end.
The monotone cry kept resounding fifteen minutes
after you hung up
and I kept staring at the phone,
telling myself that there wasn't a similarity
between that sustained, inhuman moan
and the weeping in my head.

Can't remember going back to life.
The bottles are back in the cabinet,
I wear a nicotine patch, and
I eat my vegetables.
And I threw out every bit of sugar
in my house.

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surprises. wonderful.




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the world and its eyes of pearl

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i wrote this in the summer before freshman year. almost two years ago:

i've noticed that my life.. my life, recently, tastes like
the taste in my mouth. it wasn't like that before.
i mean, even a year ago- last summer, that is-
it tasted like sweet iced tea and the chocolate someone
i forgot gave me for a pointless holiday or another.
now i have in my mouth and existence, the taste
of black coffee and my last cigarette-
makes my tongue feel like carpet and my throat feel like hot asphalt.
there's the taste of a scorching, sticky afternoon where nothing
can cool you down so long as you're outside.
there's the burn of liquor and the flinch-inducing,
rancid quality of an espresso doppio.
there's smog drifting in from Los Angeles.
it's the city of the sweetest angels.
laugh your ass off, though, 'cause you can taste the pollution, really.
there's a two-in-the-morning kiss that led to sex.
the taste of a boy and unbrushed teeth;
the taste of cheap beer and chapstick.
i can also taste the somewhat genetically modified apple that was,
at one point, a gorgeous, lush fruit, but now, as it leaves
my mouth, it's fallen into the preliminary stages of decay.
i rinsed out my mouth as much as i could.
created a thunderous storm of acidic mouthwash within my cheeks
so vigorously that i almost swallowed and gagged.
i don't understand why this won't leave my mouth.
i've been smoking and kissing,
drinking and downing black coffee.
i've been breathing and burning,
and it wasn't so horridly rancid. i told you that i tasted chocolate
just last summer. and now, this shit.
did it only catch up with me just now? did it accumulate?
or is it something entirely different?



going back and reading my earlier writing makes me shudder. i hate it.
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i'm feeling very fat today. i ate too much.
i don't think i'm sleeping tonight, though, so at least i'll burn it up, yeah ?



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