Sunday, May 31, 2009

new tattoo



a little bit of me, a little bit of you.

Saturday, May 30, 2009

salt. i feel like i've swallowed salt.

this isn't jet lag.
this is me needing to forget more than i remember.
who knew the two could feel so similar!

unbearable lightness

and just when i thought all the jet lag was gone, i find myself shaking awake at 3 am with this panic in my head about the website's sitemap. it's all wrong, i think, and i know what's wrong with it, but now that i'm really awake i don't. and so on this morning goes, flitting from memory to memory and eventually it all goes back to the one that started this whole new life in me. the time in which i surrendered to the monsoons, when i let myself stop capitalizing or spell-checking, when i slept only so i could wake up, and then vice versa, and the memory of a pale green glass bottle and glowing fruit. all this from a goddamn sitemap.

i've been accepted by the university. it was a few weeks ago but good lord it took time to sink in. but i don't want to go just yet. there are things to do over here i will finish, but next year, when it's all finished and i have no strings floating between me and this city, and the white-on-blue signboard by the bus stop doesn't feel like gravel in my eyes, i'll be gone. just like that. current status: trying to overcome through the tedium of incessant memory. kundera would have a field day with that sentence and probably tear me to shreds and make me watch in awe while he did it.

because i've become so literal now. and it's what i like about the new writing in this world, that you're allowed to be literal, and simple, and just say it without dressing it up and no one minds and someone might even hug you for saying it like that. that last part hasn't happened of course.

it's 3 am, i'm drunk again, you're heavy on my mind...

dave matthew's wrote that.

and now it's 5.30 and the morning is waking up.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

gulp.

last night i dreamt i got a new tattoo on my leg. after a few days, i realize i’ve forgotten i got a new tattoo because it doesn’t hurt or itch or anything. when i look down, i find that the tattoo has disappeared. there are only empty grooves on my skin from where the inkless needle dug in. and those are fading too. i start having an ugly panic attack. the tattoo was a six pointed star.

Friday, May 8, 2009

now i know

here's one of those questions you should know the answer to.



question: how long can you sit still and stare at a lake?
answer: one and a half minutes. that's less than the amount of time i can spend staring at a download progress bar.

don't read this post, you will never get these 3 minutes of your life back

it's impossible to get any work done or step out of the house for the first time in four days and get some fresh unrecycled air because the internet is just too full of interesting shit i hate but can't tear myself away from. that's why now i only go to places that have wifi.

new things the internet has got me to start (i was going to say "inspired" but really, that word's just too much for me) in the last month: photography, just so i can see it up on that pretty flickr page, collages, just so i can blog about it, twitter, just so i can be "cool" too. coming up: faking stop motion with my brother in law's camera, a new flickr set on the geometry of this city, walks. i think i need to lose some of the doritos weight i've gained here.

here, when i go into restaurants, i have to ask for water "with no ice." if i say water "without ice" they pause, analyze, and confirm, "with no ice?" and i say, "yes, with no ice." as if "no ice" is something they add to the water. my sister finds this funny. yknow what i find funny? why they give you ice by default. that never happens where i come from. a lot of things here don't happen where i come from.

speaking of where i come from (or just to change the topic), i've started to develop a healthy dislike for this blog. mostly because every time i want to write something here, my mind immediately starts to list all the people who will read it and what effect it will have on them and, more importantly, my relationship with them. and once i start analyzing that, i forget what i wanted to write and just keep analyzing the relationship. which never makes me feel very good about the relationship. i think i should start a new blog, a secret blog, where i can be as depressive and lame as i want without worrying about which friend, family member, or ex boyfriend may read it and laugh or frown or decide to unblock me on gtalk.

or maybe i should start writing a journal. like one of those notebooks with small locks and those tiny keys you can barely hold and then you lose and then you have to break into a goddamn notebook.

i'm going to go see what swissmiss has posted today. i like swissmiss. i bet she has minions surfing the net for her sitting under her table passing along blog-worthy stuff to her so she can grandly sit and do Other Important Work. i think they sit under the table because the word "minions" always makes me think of small things.

speaking of small things, i'm going to go see where doll is sleeping today.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

graffiti city

new york 2009
(brooklyn, china town, spring street, fashion district)


















Monday, May 4, 2009

i'm glad he thinks that, because i feel that way pretty much most of the time

"I really think it's important to be in a situation, both in art and in life, where you don't understand what is going on." - John Cage

life: check
art: check
apple strudle: check

how are these people doing it with such self assurance and regularity?
tao lin, suze orman, socialdesigner, leonard cohen, keri smith, threadless, parag?

i think it's too much of a commitment to put something in your blog sidebar. you add it thinking, o yes, this is something i'm going to believe in for a long time. then you remove it after a couple of weeks. (napowrimo, this means you.)

look petsuites, dogs don't want vacations, even if it's on a resort with a spa. don't try to allay our guilt by convincing us our dog's laying on a deck chair by a pool sipping a drink-with-umbrella thinking, ah, it's nice to get some time off from those damn humans. i know our fucking intelligent humanized animal's crouched in a corner wondering why the people who love her have abandoned her. i know it.

no one's talking to anyone. it's noisy.

am i really faking this?

i'm coming home early. turns out i don't need a vacation, i need a rude wake up call like with heavy metal music or something.

i wish i could just relax and enjoy my screw ups.

Saturday, May 2, 2009

i won't write a sad poem

i won't write a sad poem
sad poems betray everything
so helplessly honest
breaking down in large wet tears
unmindful of who's watching, who can see
stupid sad poems
fat women
plopping down on sidewalks
skirts riding up thighs
puddles of make up running away
from faces too hideous, contorted
no, i won't write that woman
sad poems are not beautiful
really
i won't write a wound turning green
teenage acne
a broken toilet flush
i won't write it