Reckoner, take me with you

We took the laundry from the gaping, steamy mouth of the dryer. Reached into its circling, emotionless black depths to pull out our coverings, our precious clothes, moistly hot and sighing tepid heaves of steam. The basement floor was like ice. The basement floor was like rock. We stood together on an icy rock as the long blanket-comforter was pulled slowly from the depths of the steamy, gaping dryer. Out from its circling back mouth we hauled the heavy with moist-heat comforter. Together we pulled. Together we wrapped it around our chilled bodies, and it hugged tightly to our bones. Breathing into your shoulder, breathing into your hair. The mother I’m most close to in my life, yet we are tangibly different. We are strangers by nature of our position. We are strangers by the nature of our tough, impenetrable skins. We are strangers by the nature of our physical limitations- I will never be one with you, no matter how connected I feel. Wrapped together in this warmly moist shell. Wrapped together in warmth, breathing into your hair. Our sighs rising and falling, and legs subtlety swaying. It sounded like the ocean, breathing into your hair. I could feel the waves, and hear their untroubled and sleepy sighing. The blanket wrapped around us like the moist warmth of a beach day. I breathed into you and you breathed life into me- even though we were still separate by the nature of our condemning physical limitations (are you a stranger?) – wrapped up in ourselves, wrapped up in each other, breathing and swaying like waves. Tugging and gripping each other like waves pulling the ever-unravelling hem of the shore. And then we separate like ripples on a blank shore

Reckoner, take me with you

Im too fragile to be anywhere but an embrace or my books. Im too restless to stay there.

i love love, i love being in love, i dont care what it does to me

I usually don't publicize my strong opinion about things for fear of offending someone. I really wouldnt say this personally to any of my friends who might be against this. Because there are people who disagree that I really respect, and Id rather discuss with them rather than rant. I would accept their own opinion. So this is mine. That I really just get infuriated when i talk to people about gay marriage. All you heterosexuals who want this marriage right exclusively owned to you can say your vows, sweating in the anticipation of lust and furthering of your race and greedy for all things holy and "natural". I dont find anything more natural than love for another. If love is blind it cares not whether its children are physically whole, or whether they are figuratively alive, a melding of passions. Honestly, I think discrimination against homosexuals is comparative to racism, and born out of fear. To those against it, I really dont feel like it has anything to do with you, and your present 50% divorce rates. And I think those opening-minds for some equal institution that isnt called marriage, is like defending the justice of "separate but equal" water fountains for non-whites. So far, the only difference I see between a homo or heterosexual relationship is sex for the creation of children. If marriage's utmost importance is sex, rather than love, I want nothing to do with it.

:) :) :)

the sanctuary is a place to take your breath away. the dead ..trees? the scattering of stumps that looked like tiny teeth protruding out of the horizon. our smoky breathes and the fiery sunshine that lit your whisping hair. the..cattails? (i dont even know what they were) looked more like dead rats on a stick. but everything was ablaze and beautiful. my skin awoke to the sun for the first time in what felt like yeeeeeears.. the receptors in my cell registering a natural warmth. they began to buzz and i could feel my hand being awake again. i think subconsciously or not, most animals hibernate in some way in death. i mean winter

i understand why people want to go out to lunch with emily so often and tell her their entire lives and problems and worries. the largest variety of people even. i understand because i didnt want to get out of her car and because she has this unique warmth that never dies, even in the winter. even in sadness, or anything. the most warm and enlightening inner glow, and weaker creatures (those weakened with troubles) all gather like the moths i mentioned in my last post. people are drawn to a light and shes absolutely radiant.

c-c-c-cicadas

i know what i need! other than a bigger mattress, because my feet hang off the edge, and that is part of the reason i am awake right now. i need to keep reading books and never stop. just like the author said. i need to leave parties early to read a novel, because thats honestly what i want to do.

right now i want the blazen and proud heat wave of Summer, or maybe even the slight and tepid breathes of life of Spring. i need the glory of a husky hide of golden skin, crawling with dirt and sweat and mostly life that arises in heat. Rises out of every pore of the earth, like the cascading thrilling trill of crickets that never ceases by the Golding's house. If they stopped i feel as though the whole town might awake, mistaking the sudden absense of ever-present sound for a loud and obnoxious new noise. i want to lay on the uneven layers of wood of my deck, the loose nail lightly digging into my heel as a reminder into the realm of awake. the pages of my book that shield my eyes from the sun- so lazy and surrendering, they stick to my legs and hands these wrinkly and moist pages. Bending gracefully like the serene curve of the moth wings that latch onto my screen door, collectively amassing to the porch-light. i want to be awake and alive again in a suffocating heat

we were so tired of being mild

I ORDERED A BACKPACK TODAY YAAYAYAA finally. shoutouts to brandon sills for his inspirational backpack. im sorry i tell everyone about it! it really is fantastic though

i also think ill try to be a vegetarian again. i mean a 29-days-per-month vegetarian. meaning not everyday but as often as possible. i read more today than i have in so long and it is bliss and i am brimming. i spent the day in the hospital visiting a friend. his enormous gratitude at even our silent presence was humbling. hes someone id seen as formerly invincible, yet today vulnerable. my book i finished also ended in "timshel" or however you spell it.... thou mayest. Thou mayest anything. I want to stop being so meek and mild and actually use that. if my heart has its way, ill cut down facebook to once a week, and i guess that'll include all online drama llama.

my cousin is a beautifully sweet and uncorrupted being.

permanently blue for, you

Bruises are sometimes cool looking. Like, sometimes I am proud of them and feel tough. But there is also the yellowing greenish kind, the kind everyone averts their eyes from when they look at, the kind you try to cover up with clothes. You can live with bruises, live breathe and exist with bruises, and they’ll never kill you. They will just rot there. And no one feels bad for anyone with a bruise; it’s even kind of laughable. But they are very sensitive. They rot in one place. They get smaller until they cease to exist. They are tentative and rotten. They turn gross colors and no one wants to look at them. No one wants to touch them. And eventually no one shows them to anyone else. Sometimes you get bruises and you have no idea where they came from, but sometimes you can remember every single little thing that added to all the bruises on your body, and you don’t want to look at them anymore because you’re not proud of this bruise because its not pretty. Its something ugly about you. And no one wants to see it. No one thinks its pretty colors. It can become the same color of those gross linoleum tiles, where you feel like it'll blend in. On the floor, on linoleum tiles, whose entire existence revolves around being stepped on.

And she said losing love
Is like a window in your heart
Everybody sees you're blown apart
Everybody sees the wind blow

there are days when tea fills you up, and there are days when a smile fills you up. like the elvin grin of those piercingly white incisors. there are days when you laugh so hard you make weird noises you didnt know you were capable of making and when your guilt lays split, shattered, and left behind on the floor once you confess it. there are days when you walk out of your math room and have the sudden urge to hug someone becuase emily looked so pretty. and there are days when you beep at people who walk by your car who looks cool. there are days when you tear up over the ferocity that claws itself out of human hearts and manifests itself in a fist pounding into fleshy cheeks. and there are days when you look at people and want to take pictures of them. there are days when i do want to talk to you, and there are days when i dont. today was a day when i wanted to, but i never did. there are days when you want to take a chance on someone and dont because youre too scared, and will "later" when youre older and more mature, and youre not exactly sure when that day will come but it has too come otherwise youre life will be sad and pathetic and mushy. there are days when youre in this denial. there are days when you go slightly coockoo, and charge at eachother like rhinos. it is these days that you lay on the gym floor, laughter ricocheting off the hollow walls of such a grand gymnasium. it was empty without your laughter. we collapsed to the floor a lot, with the grand stupor of happiness that comes with pulled butt-muscles and victory. there are days when you take a nap and wakeup to feel a hole has been bored into your heart and its sucked up all your breath and will and you feel like youre going to throw up. there are days when you worry and miss people and there are days when you hug someone and its warmer than anything you felt. its warm because you just scurried from the blustering and cold outside, that trails its frosty grip way inside with you until you find those arms. those arms that follow us the rest of the day, poking our mind. reminding us. you hugged me with warmth. the tea filled me up. and you looked cool so we beeped at you. and youre smile was the most beautiful thing ive seen in days.

today was all of those kinds of days.

oh and days like this that you havent started studying for history yet

T stands for Typical Teenager

i feel undermined and left behind. there is such an abundance of intense beauty around me, yet i cannot find my own place in it. powerschool is not included in this surrounding beauty. the chocolate milk i drank at lunch today was, and your widening of eyes and giggle. and the memory of the man at six flags who made a loud procession of beeping sounds before launching you on the ride. a lot of kids made fun of him, flipped their pristine hair and gave mean looks. my cousins and i beeped back lovingly, and he absolutely brightened up. im so lucky to have friends so close to me that i can feel them within me wherever i am; im speaking of Aylee and Catriona. I miss lush grass and shorts and the small traces of white salt that formed on skin after days at the ocean, i miss the ice cream that drips out of the hole in the bottom of waffle cones, and I miss laying flat on my porch in the golden shimmering heat reading for hours, as well as stripping down and leaping into your neighbors pool in sticky heated summer nights. Today I was looking at myself in the small, foundation mirror and applying makeup after gym and you walked by and told me i looked beautiful. THANK YOU and i really never want to be that girl doing that again. Not like I'm judging people who put on makeup in class. But personally, when I do it, it is a surrender to my insecurities, which is a sad collapse to witness.

gooo highschool!

its alright, we told you what to dream

for full effect, read this while listening to Welcome to the Machine by Pink Floyd.

You'll go in soon, and I want to tell you so you wont be surprised.

They'll first strip you of your clothes, but they'll go deeper than that. They'll shuck off any little dignity you have-- you'll lose what you think of as your decent right to live and to be let alone to live. They'll make you live and eat and sleep and shit close to other men. And when they dress you up again you'll not be able to tell yourself from the others. You cant even wear a scrap or pin a note on your breast to say 'this is me, separate from the rest'. After a while, you'll think no thought the others do not think. You'll know no word the others cant say. And you'll do things because the others do them. You'll feel the danger in any difference whatsoever-- a danger to the whole crowd of like-thinking, like-acting men.

Once in a while, there is a man who wont do what is demanded of him, and do you know what happens? The whole machine devotes itself coldly to the destruction of his difference. They'll beat your spirit and your nerves, your body and your mind, with iron rods until the dangerous difference goes out of you. And if you cant finally give in, they'll vomit you up and leave you stinking outside-- neither part of themselves nor yet free.

Its better to fall in with them. They do it only to protect themselves. A thing so triumphantly illogical, so beautifully senseless as an army cant allow a question to weaken it.

- John Steinbeck

i wonder who "they" is, and i wonder if this fear is of a tangible threat, or merely a disquiet, unsatisfied regiment within oneself that they pose as an external threat.

an eye for an eye makes..

i cant help but think its a sign when my history test multiple choice answers spell out "D-E-A-D" and "B-A-D"

this conversation also stuck out to me today

Why dont you like her?

I dont actually know. She used to give me death glares all the time, so I would just give them back.

GOOD FOR YOU GIRL! you should!

A Romantic Ism

I tried to convey this to you, Max, when I asked you to say "screw that" to the drama you said you hated, and break your phone in two. I said "do it because I wont, and because someone has too". Someone has too. And im a coward.

Let me explain!

shiiiiiiiat. i am on fire right now. really i am completely outraged. and im warning all readers to a possible rant that you might not feel like reading. whatever. im at this stage in my head where i have this innate need to write. ive had it since i was very young. maybe its just the mark of a finely practiced procrastinator. but id like to think that its the manifestation of when i become too incredibly passionate for my confined 5'9" space and need to burst out of my very pores. Words fit out of these small holes in my mesh of skin. Im becoming more and more aware of bodies. Im going to be so upset if i turn into a science person.

anyways im reading an article for english about how america needs a new reality. how we are so caught up in this American Dream of wealth for ourselves, and passing this accumulating wealth to our children who will be wealthier, and thus have better, more sucessful lives, than us. the article asks one to reconsider what it means to be rich. FINE. I WILL

material items have gotten us... where? it makes me happy to be able to take pictures, yes. Tangible representations of things that I find beautiful are nice. but I delight 39482 times more in that moment when I stumble upon something small and beautiful that deserves to be taken a picture of. My camera= $$$. but my eyes signaling to my brain delight = priceless. i love reading books. I want to read books forever. i have the most insatiable desire to learn. Learning by experience and observation does not cost you a thing $$$. And this is what the author of that article was talking about... we plan and plan and hope for wealth. we sacrifice small beauties for the larger picture- this picture of fufillment that will come with future wealth. where the hell has money gotten my family? obviously not far. only out of the east coast once. its the wrong thing to be fixating on.

So too is this perception of grades as a type of wealth. an A does not make me happy. Its that brilliant apex of tumbling into understanding a math problem that brings me happiness. Its this insatiable desire to know the world after hearing Mr. J talk for an hour that makes me joyful. And its not even school related things. There is also a world of intricate beauties in the simple interactions of getting to know someone. This high-school-centered teenage life i have fallen so helplessly into has made me feel like the only thing worth fighting for are tangible gains- like wealth, or good grades. I wont get graded on friendship. My grades do not reflect even partially the amount of inspiration I get from my classes. I shouldnt be working towards these grades. I play victim, and blame it on some corrupt system for why i care so much about the wrong things. I really want to get out of this. Somewhere there needs to be a tangible reward as well for following inspiration rather than dreams of future wealth. Maybe a tangible thing, such as a dollar, would ruin it. Maybe there just needs to be some tangible symbol to save us all. From crashing into this world of misplaced motivation.

I dont actually care if any of that made sense.

the difference between greatness and mediocrity:

"I believe when you come to the responsibility to make that decision, you are alone to make your choice. On one side you have warmth and companionship and sweet understanding, and on the other-- cold, lonely greatness. There you make your choice. Im glad I have chose mediocrity, but how am I to say what reward might have come with the other? But isnt it strange? A father want his son to be condemned to greatness! What selfishness that must be. But its nice for a mediocre man to know that greatness must be the loneliest state in the world"

Yeah. So I guess upon realizing the fragile futility of grades and wealth, I have peered into the window of a more enriching, fufilling life of expanding upon the possibilities of being human. Ive only peeked though. I am far too much of a coward to stray from my path. Itd be too much of a great leap. And in my selfish anti-independance, I want someone else to do it for me.

Or at least do it with me.