I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. [entries|friends|calendar] mari shoe [ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ] [ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

[23 Jun 2006|02:10pm] redwaxlips so i made this new journal because i hate this one and basically just add me if you like to read things i write :) 4 let go would yahs hold my hand

some a.m. abracadabra [22 Jun 2006|05:10pm] Since sleep has been hard to fall into lately, I'm usually stuck in a mental breeding ground of useless thought development. Last night, as four a.m gradually turned into five, my body tossed, turned and stirred about on a mattress full of air. It occurred to me, as everything else I'd been thinking about drifted away, that no one to my knowledge ever has marketed an idea for a helium bed. We all loved the hydrogen-oxygen-hydrogen beds of the 90's but what's so wrong with a sleep-space that floats? In my dreamy, perfectly peculiar world a bed that hovers from inflation holds the same potential as a magical flying carpet. Why ever shouldn't the periodic table of elements dedicate it's atomic number two for the use of floating beds? Blimps, balloons and MRI's owe their lives to this gaseous marvel. We have to ask ourselves one important question: why haven't we used the most abundant element in the universe for the greater good of human rest? For the betterment of R.E.M cycles all over the world? China, get on your game! The jetson's had one thing missing from the world of tomorrow: floating helium beds for everyone. As five a.m eventually progressed to six I decided to give it a rest. I put the idea of a floating shut-eye space to bed and gave it another go myself. Unfortunately, I was haunted for a few more half hours with ridiculous thoughts of how angry it makes me that my mother turns on the radio from the moment she wakes until right before her eyes fall heavy. 3 let go would yahs hold my hand

who needs jobs, money can't buy me love [13 Jun 2006|05:00pm] well i'm almost sure i have another job... and that feels good in the sense that i plan on saving all of the money from it; also it's nice to know i'll have an income-- but today i was riding in the passenger seat of a car and my driver talked about not wanting to go to work from four pm to midnight. as my mind was stuck out the window with the vibrance of an almost-summer afternoon, another was already in the humdrum of a local video store. i am not in tune with the idea that anyone should want eight hours of life, life that is their own and maybe only, to hasten by as one hour would, day after miserable day. the fact that i should have to sit or stand or move around in a certain vicinity from the golden afternoon hours until the somber placidity of midnight is once again something that scares me. i guess i was so used to the routine of punching in and out mindlessly, while the whole middle was filled with occasional excitement, that i disregarded the gravity of a previously big deal to be none such a thing. and thus i know, with utmost exuberance, that the day i don't have these normalish, super-suburbian, menial jobs on my to-do list is the day i rejoice for everything that ever is beautiful in the world. [[until then i'll just bite the bullet, work these nightmares, just enough to get to another city full of flapjack petalpants, the ocean's thunder and skylands full of the best of us]] it's basically really hard to even complete a thought of any kind when my mind is so constantly elsewhere. you know where... 3 let go would yahs hold my hand

[11 Jun 2006|11:16pm] it's how your body feels when you close your eyes and concentrate on your breathing. it's the distinct pulse that you actually feel through your ears when all is quiet and slumbering; but you aren't slumbering and you haven't been for a while, you're veins and muscles and bones just are there with your psyche, thinking the same things you are if they had brains of their own. i wish i could drive my car without risking arrest. more than that, though, i wish i had my camera again or even a different one. the actual camera matters nothing, really all i want is the film so i can put all of the somethings i see on it and explain the emptiness. maybe some form of cuneal writing. hold my hand

[09 Jun 2006|07:57pm] [ music | band of horses- the funeral ] well i think i've gotten taller. this might be either because i'm delusional or because i drank about a gallon of chocolate milk the other day (i regret nothing!). so now my refridgerator feels less huge. oh, i feel older than my youngling sister finally... i think. well, if taller equates into older, you know. i haven't actually measured this or anything, i just think i'm tall or something. anyway, i went for a bike ride last night. it was interesting, to say the least. i really feel so amazing when the sky is dark and on my shoulders working hand in hand with a wind that whispers the future. hold my hand

to the nice guys [08 Jun 2006|07:01pm] [ music | france gall ] Hazelhurst only lasted as long as it was legal and who would have thought that it just wasn't (Einstein doesn't count really)? So I'm back at my mother's den and actually wondering what to do about life, which isn't unusual at all only now I can ponder and not have to pay rent for a little bitty gingerbread place and walkable anythings. I'm sleeping on a hardwood floor covered by three sleeping bags from camping years ago. I've only one pillow and one blanket and that feels like strange new territory or something. Sleeping has never been a foreign planet to me before this week; and if it was, it was a good change to fake sleep and pillow company. I am jobless but not a hobo. I still think too much and read quite often. This is an update on life. Today I ate cereal with strawberries and it filled me up until later when I discovered tortilla tilapia in the ice box and nearly died! One day I will figure out how to keep employment and save money and continue correspondence to people I do care about. I hope maybe tomorrow will be that day. So in conclusion, because I feel like I'm writing a grade school paper about what I did this weekend, there is no conclusion. And there never will be really, until I'm dead and then there might not even be a conclusion because I may just want to revisit earth and haunt a nice, dense wooded area or perhaps a girls bathroom stall or even, dare I say it, everywhere on this planet because I'll have all of eternity to be a serial haunter. 4 let go would yahs hold my hand

it's hopeful and we're courageous!!!!!! [27 Apr 2006|04:32pm] [ music | gaarrrh ] now that it is summer i'm eating breyer's all natural raspberry creamsicles like it's breathing or chain smoking. the "all natural" part doesn't seem to affect me too much except for that maybe i feel like this is what the trees and rivers and mountaintops want me to be enjoying. honestly, it only makes me feel very good for as long as there is frozen sugar on the tongue-depressor stick. is that what comes from anything used as a substitute? my popsicles and my flowers and the labyrinth with wine and david bowie are my substitutes for kerry being away. they usually only work until they're over, and then i go on thinking about what life is like when he's near and how it's not good enough when he isn't. but maybe one thing i've learned so far is that time travel and teleportation are IMPOSSIBLE as of april 27, 2006 but maybe someday it will happen and probably by then i won't need or want to use it. i woke up today and everything in my bedroom was breathing. heavy sighs and swift inhales. the windows were open and the blinds moved along with the breeze, while the kitchen curtains danced and asked me for a kitchen table to keep company. i'm afraid that nathan might have been locked in his bedroom tuesday night by a bed lying in front of the door. nathan is the type that would jump out of a window to get out of the house for work and i just really want to know he didn't resort to that. what a bugger. at least i've felt immortal for the past few days and at least i've also felt undeniably human in all of the sappy, glowing ways. my chin has dry skin and it's from a beard that i can't say no to. before i continue on and release all of the swirls messing about in my chest i will just keep it at this: sometimes i want to be a train conductor and sit in my vessel, staring the country down; maybe having it stare me down too and interrogate me for what's happened to such an old world in such a short time. sometimes i want to be an accountant just to tell people that two and two is sixteen and since i went to college for it i'm right. and then i just want to retire to a beach where the sea saturates the air and sometimes i can look off into the distance before dinner is ready and wonder when the storm is going to hit. and during dinner, when it all starts to pour down like baby's tears from the thunder, the coffee will be sipped and i'll realize what it is about the way the sea and the sky give eachother what it takes to wind and rain and hail and snow. then you'll sit there, sipping along with me, knowing just what i'm thinking about; and you'll tell me just to love these things we find beautiful, and not to question it too hard. 1 let go would yah hold my hand

i went through all the letters of the alphabet and found nothing interesting [22 Apr 2006|07:15pm] i've been informed of one million things different to what i thought pervious to this information overload. i'm half full and half empty of remorse for my naive imagination, and therefore, considering who i am, my naive conceptions of life every single day. today i woke up and i didn't hesitate to get out of bed. that felt redeeming, for all of the other days preceeding when i'd dose in and out and over bulls for hours until the clock read something more p.m. nathan was febreezing the house, the slip cover was hugging the love seat and i thought about how i just can't wait to be outside in fall when everything is the warm, yellow color of birds and tired, tired flowers. maybe i'm never satisfied with the seasons? in an attempt to save cash i've thought about rationing food for myself. status: hungry. really though, it's not so bad. when i eat i try to do so sparingly anyway and this way i won't buy too much and end up giving away five dollars of left-overs. new paragraphs feel like showering. sometimes after i take showers i put on the same old clothes and continue course; other times it's best to start fresh and diced up and therefore, i hold new paragraphs in some unreachable cage in the darkest depths of my clutter-bugged heart. spring cleaning? in honor of jesus's second coming to earth (slash michigan!) i'm having a party at my house monday night some time. i'm not sure when, considering the son of god is playing a show at the shelter and these things tend to delay parties, but details are soon-coming and i want to drink wine but not until i barf. i want to sip wine and think about the fact that butterflies go for the eyes and if you don't watch out they'll blind you for the sake of saline. all's well! 10 let go would yahs hold my hand

[21 Apr 2006|02:46pm] apparantly EVERYONE IN THE WORLD knew that in order to work at como's you have to be of a different sexual orientation than what i am so thanks world for telling me that before i spent an hour on a VERY CLEVER job application! daaang it. so my new job interests include: the magic bag and buffalo wild wings ANYTHING I SHOULD KNOW ABOUT SAID WORK AVENUES BEFORE I KNOCK THEM OFF THEIR FEET WITH A GIANT BRACELET OF CHARM??? 9 let go would yahs hold my hand

randomness and count drealeah [20 Apr 2006|05:45pm] i moved into my new house. it is very cute but our furniture situation is quite lacking. i read poetry on my bed next to my yellow night stand, there are boxes lining a whole wall across from my bed. i think i'm getting a job at como's. i would like to wait on people who have an idea about life. maybe that will happen. the other night, i thought a lot about people and value. there are human beings i care about more than personal pan pizzas who i don't see ever... and people who i care about less than nail polish who i see quite frequently. i want to ride my bike and put a kitten in the basket. the end. 8 let go would yahs hold my hand

i'm getting the keys on thursday, or friday! [28 Mar 2006|10:56pm] [ mood | laa la ] [ music | france gall- laisse tomber les filles ] The shift from a desolate, sporadic cold to a warm, less lonely season leaves a girl sitting at her back door with the remains of certain cigarettes escaping in her breath. Every exhale lets out another reason why temperate nights and enjoyably unbearable daylights should exist. What do we have but a feather held firmly between our thumb and index fingers? We have another feather floating sweetly to the ground, waiting for some other compassionate phalanges to hug it tight. And when it's put aside, either back to the breathing ground or into a box for safe keeping, or for some sense of magical wonderment (maybe a baby feather can instill that somehow sure) it's soft, smooth texture lingers on our fingers. It stays there until we decide it shouldn't; it camps out until we believe again that a feather helps souls connect. Why shouldn't feathers let a heart give a bit of a leap? Or is it not the feather, but the intention, the mind maybe, of the bearer who allows an organ's jump? Tangibility is nothing without intent; a feather is nothing once it falls from a wing. But this jargon might be insignificant. California oceans, help me drift away. New York City skylines, help my eyes see that life is bigger than me. It's when I'm tossing around ideas like clothes around my room that I almost find one that fits. I used to wonder: is there anyone who could ever listen to me talk, read the words I write, and make sense of it without trying? Is there anything that thinks, without a doubt, my faith in littler things is worth a damn? I try not to wonder too often anymore, because my mind just takes me to all over, stopping lastly at square one. I smile when I think about you. Otherwise... everyone is lying sick and in slumber. I hope that feels alright. And this phone rings off the hook, with strangers slinging hellos and "other formal greetings" at my ears. That's when it's time to hang up. That's why if I wanted to be marketed, I'd stand in an aisle at the grocery store. 4 let go would yahs hold my hand

[24 Mar 2006|06:28am] [ mood | mhhhmmm ] [ music | the raincoats- fairytale in the supermarket ] there are some words, maybe noises, the likes of which i do not know how to put into words. i wish the world of technology, as unstimulating as it is to me, would offer something to make noise into and then tell me how to spell it. the single tingle up my spine is usually the scout for the army and though i fiercely detest war with me, this one sits just fine and: i'm obsessed with this song, it's great! the raincoats- dont be mean 5 let go would yahs hold my hand

if you love a bunch of nothing, you should definitely read this [23 Mar 2006|03:53am] [ music | 99 red balloons ] it's four in the morning and i'm almost wide-eyed. the past few weeks have got me all in a fuss; i'm not sure exactly how to unscramble the eggs up in my head, that's impossible. mentally/emotionally i can not wait to get this house figured out and moved into. i want to sleep there and put some flowers in it's ground and light it's rooms and put some cookies in that baby's oven. then i can concentrate on other things that are still ajumble. this line keeps blinking and i stare past it, it changes pace, and then i jolt back into whatever this is. my train of thought is a bit derailed. i've been enslaved for a while, and i'm not free again until sunday or even monday- everything... even the future... is a bit of a blur right now. is it safe to hop out my window and smoke a cigarette? i shouldn't even have to do that, but i keep hearing rumblings around i just am not sure what outside has to offer a naive, rather gullable girl at this hour, in this state of mind. i wouldn't mind this state if it would just let me be! i feel like i have michigan crawling all over me. i would rather something else do that, other than a seemingly lousy mitten. speaking of this place, what is going on with all of the urban sprawl? what's going on with other things, like: h&m, a jimmy buffet restaurant?, all of those live/works back on market street... that entire area used to be wooded and left alone. all of this development is ticking my tocker and i wonder what it would be like to leave for a year and then visit... would i recognize anything that used to be familiar? i guess the only place you can't expect change is a place where there aren't enough people to care for it. that's an obvious statement... it sounded more profound in my head, but that's got a lot of other noise at the moment so maybe the confusion hit there. gosh i've lost so much credibility in the past year of my life that i just want to hurry up and sprint to get it back. if i could still run, maybe i would. this sure is turning out to be a rant, i suppose maybe it's time to face whatever shadows or earthly noises await me outside. i really can't wait until april... in april everything will lighten and get older and way more interesting. interest. that's what i need. no thanks to the bank, though. i can't wait to figure out what these hazlehurst floors have to say, or what we'll talk about to the walls when you come back to me. i feel better, already. 2 let go would yahs hold my hand

so i had this dream last night: you could call it eye-opening, though my eyes never opened [04 Mar 2006|02:42am] [ mood | illusory ] [ music | the who- love ain't for keeping ] Those eyes spill out everywhere coloring a wild existence sleep cycle, sleepy cycling he comes to me through dreams Flowerless gardens but where did it all go? we all unintentionally destroy the beautiful, the beautiful destroys us Retribution With eyes that close constantly consistently coincidentally keeping them shut is easy when we’re utopian for a while 3 let go would yahs hold my hand

And the doctor prescribes: casting stones [03 Mar 2006|02:16am] [ music | belle and sebastian: asleep on a sunbeam ] It's hard to remember the smell and sun of summer when current wind and ice attack me all the live long day. During these winter months I always feel as if "anything is better than this mess" and "I'd rather be roasting myself alive on a blacktop in the desert". It's hard to sleep and eat right, it's hard to take showers and not wonder about the last person to use the soap and how. I guess quixotic isn't my favorite word, either. I'm cold and lonely and it's desolate and unpromising waking after sunset 85% of the week. What makes winter so wrong? Why is it that people can sizzle and sweat in the ungodly 90 degree sun but they won't put on a pair of snowpants and run around on the ice for a little? It almost feels like there's too much cold, a whole lot of time, and just not enough people who want to "risk it all" and look fat for a few hours in the powdery outery. I stay focused, almost, by going to Walmart and making engravings. It's just so hectic around here. It isn't even hectic, it's just disappointing. I don't understand the basic or the norm, especially with all of my friends breaking up and what ensues. Socially, no one wants to get hurt repeatedly [duh marilu] but the idea that in order to not get hurt by limiting yourself from life is ridiculous. It's the same as saying, "In order to not get fired ever again I'm just not going to have a job," or maybe, "I tried wearing one pair of pants and they didn't look good so I am not going to participate in pants-wearing anymore ever no way thanks though." Basically, everyone will wear pants again at one point in their respective lives and they'll find the pair that isn't too baggy after they've been worn for a day; they'll find the pair that maybe has a couple holes but, oh hey, that's fashion wow. I just wish I had some credibility here. The days melt and fade, collide, disperse after colliding, and then they're back to just plain old days again. It isn't that I don't love you, ocean, you send me over all the waves. It isn't that I don't know anything, intelligent, but my mind fumbles more than the Detroit Lions. It isn't and it is, and was and it's not, it will be and it just might not be but what is the purpose in not finding out or figuring out or at least just going with the there's-a-reason-this-is-happening flow? I need a walk near a creek or some stones to skip immediately. Lying here asleep on a sunbeam, I wonder if you realise you fascinate me so. 7 let go would yahs hold my hand

impending [14 Feb 2006|03:50pm] [ music | elton john- bennie and the jets ] THIS HAS BEEN THE LONGEST TWO WEEKS OF ALL TIME.  OH BUT WHY?! 3 let go would yahs hold my hand

i like when the engine starts and so does the music [30 Jan 2006|01:25pm] I want, more than almost anything, to lay down on the couch, positioned so wonderfully in the sun, and dream. I want to dream I'm a bird and I want to fly around and chirp and peck at feeders that interested and interesting people set up for me and others like me. I could make it happen- in my brain- and see it happen- behind my eyes- but there's too much control. I want to answer the telephone and not say hello. I want to start my car and forget to put it in drive for a little while. There's too much control. I continually pump healthy antioxidants and healthy proantioxidants and healthy elecrtooxidants into my body; if there was a breathalyzer for antioxidants and the law I'd be incarcerated for life. Twice. Maybe even incinerated for life. Or for death, which ever? What is health anyway? Is it sleeping regularly and waking up and exercising and eating a broccoli? Is it happiness and laughing and running around all over the grass? Is it normalcy? A healthy, normal life? Is it not minding a routine to slip into, to dissolve into? To work away your brain and your organs so that them aching isn't weird? If that's what it is then perhaps I'll pass without a second brain transmission. Perhaps I'll pass without even a transmission in my car and a two-week drive to who knows where. I am sick of the enter key, I'm bored with the space bar, and all I really want is a stamp and a dime. I have a dime, or a couple. So maybe all I want is a stamp and a dream and a non-hello hi. There are days when I worry about whether or not there will always be a swirl. Or about what happens when you have records and no record player? Do you just have art? What about sand and how does it get so small but so big at the same time? I'm in second grade. Or I'm in first grade and any second-grader could answer my questions with something that I would absolutely probably deem exactly right. 4 let go would yahs hold my hand

[26 Jan 2006|07:51am] [ music | rufus wainwright- april fools ] I'm trying to do my taxes, at eight in the morning, and for some reason there is an error and I can't figure it out. I've done these things before and I know that I'm able but it's just not working right! I can ask my father to help but it just would probably feel better to say to him "Hey dad I filed my taxes this morning" instead of "I messed something up again, wanna help??". Is that nuts? TurboTax you're a hater, I can just tell. Some days sleeping happens in hefty amounts. I've been told dreams only really last for a few seconds, but I swear, I slept for some crazy fifteen hours the other day and the entire time [or what felt like the entire time?] was filled with motion pictures for my brain. Every time I jump into the pillows and blankets atop that almost-too-firm mattress, I think a bit more of me gets swallowed up by an ocean of z's. Seriously, I think I lost a leg out there, or some hair. Livejournal made me change my password from the best, most simple thing, to a complicated mess. As little as it matters in daily life/at all, somehow I sprout a frown at every log in. I think maybe I'm just finding things to frown at and rage against [turbotax from hell] because there's not much else to do. This is a lifestyle with a lot of problems so I'll stop it. Complaining is the worst. Lastly, I found something crazy online [surprised?] and that's all. 7 let go would yahs hold my hand

I'm complaining... [18 Jan 2006|12:45am] [ music | aqualung ] Alright. I heard that there exists a "professor" at Macomb who teaches in his classes that love doesn't last for "more than three years" and that if you aren't going to have children you just shouldn't get married at all because there is no point in it other than having company for the rest of however long it is you last. People can't stay in love because it just fades? All of sudden, it just goes away... bye bye lover I just am not in love with you anymore! After three years? So there's proof? Scientists or psychologists or zoologists did research and tested subjects and discovered that no matter who you are or what you believe in or where you exist you just won't be in love for longer than three years because it takes a hiatus? Love packs it's bags and changes it's name and cuts it's hair at just about the same exact time for everyone in the whole world. I want to kill this man and I don't even know who he is. What about people who've loved eachother for years and years and still want to climb on eachother like jungle-gyms? Or what about people who are so in love even after eighty years of life together that when their lover dies they go too, maybe even almost instantly? What? Did you guys just decide to die together for kicks? You just made your body give up life because you got bored and that person whom you "liked a lot" wasn't there to sit in the sun with you or do a crossword or skydive anymore so you figured you'd try out the other side??? I bet he's divorced like the other 52% of america and his bitter revenge is to poison romantic minds and ruin relationships and destroy any shred of romance, which, as far as I'm concerned, is the only thing holding this world together anymore, just to satisfy the stupid pulsing vein in his head that nearly explodes ANY TIME he sees ANY ONE happy. I AM SICK OF JERKS!!!!!!!!!! 10 let go would yahs hold my hand

It's melancholy and hydrology! [15 Jan 2006|03:21am] [ music | nada surf ] Dear Today, Why are you the worst of things? Such a dang bully. Please stop. It's horrible enough that you carry on to the next day, day after day, so drink this juice. There's no poison in it... don't worry. Sincerely, The bullied This is how the past two days have left me: I'm convinced that when I wake up whenever I do, it will be beautiful outside and all of the slime from yesterday and yesterday's yesterday will have been taken care of by the ghost busters. Alright. I also can't stop reading this poem over and over again: By Candlelight This is winter, this is night, small love -- A sort of black horsehair, A rough, dumb country stuff Steeled with the sheen Of what green stars can make it to our gate. I hold you on my arm. It is very late. The dull bells tongue the hour. The mirror floats us at one candle power. This is the fluid in which we meet each other, This haloey radiance that seems to breathe And lets our shadows wither Only to blow Them huge again, violent giants on the wall. One match scratch makes you real. At first the candle will not bloom at all -- It snuffs its bud To almost nothing, to a dull blue dud. I hold my breath until you creak to life, Balled hedgehog, Small and cross. The yellow knife Grows tall. You clutch your bars. My singing makes you roar. I rock you like a boat Across the Indian carpet, the cold floor, While the brass man Kneels, back bent, as best he can Hefting his white pillar with the light That keeps the sky at bay, The sack of black! It is everywhere, tight, tight! He is yours, the little brassy Atlas -- Poor heirloom, all you have, At his heels a pile of five brass cannonballs, No child, no wife. Five balls! Five bright brass balls! To juggle with, my love, when the sky falls. Sylvia Plath 6 let go would yahs hold my hand

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