thank you for coming home.
this is why i need a feathered friend.
and the last post was a story from early fall. in my memory.
i went for a walk today. it was beautiful and magical and full of life and discovery and warm thoughts that emulated from the very tips of my fingers. i was a dancer there tonight. i felt my wings expand and my toes skim the treetops from below. i climbed trees of spongy decay and squeezed magical waters from it’s bark, finding blue mushrooms and delicate moss along the way.
joe found a beautiful mushroom. it was pure white, maybe it was cream, and full of that earthy musky smell every mushroom has. jokingly, they tried to convince me if i smelled it too much i would inhale spores and the mushroom and i would fuse . i didn’t believe them, but i thought about it, and to be that beautiful and pure wouldn’t be so rotten as people would say.
i felt refreshed and awakened after that jaunt. that stroll. that peace of mind. i saw satellites in the sky and had laughs in an old fashioned way with old souls. we then traveled in a spaceship of words and tasks and we were at joe’s house, laughing and smoking and blindly trapped in our thoughts. i stared at artwork and felt my cheeks flush and warm skin under flannel and sweaters. and that book! that book of imagination and wonderment. i have never had a more intriguing and electric evening. and it was nothing more than usual. but it was in every way.
i’m tripping over my feet trying to get to you. i don’t think you mind as much as i imagine you to.
i love chocolate. and the x files. and gravitational pulls.
found a job, lost friends. found a house, lost confidence. found a happy thought, lost time. found a headache, lost bruises. found backstabbing, lost sleep. found anger, lost motivation.
some things are good to lose. some things are good to find. so far, this has been a drastically lonely learning experience and not much more. hopefully things will look up. 100 dollar bills have made me giggle in the past few days because i care as much as i have to. and lately that’s been a lot.
i have to remember that dreams and sadness can both be friends.
be happy, be well, and do what you have to.
there are dogs in puppy kennels here, and a tired mind. sometimes i wish i was 17 again. but really i don’t. there were too many wishes and too many heart jerks.
i need a way to channel energy and frustration, and most of all disappointment. right now it’s all bottled in knots and is sitting right above my liver. i feel their little bird eyes staring into the pit of my stomach, making it hard for words to form and pain to lift. i shouldn’t use fire and smoke anymore to cure the ache, but i think it’s hard to let go of the things i trust the most. especially when all the persian rugs have been lifted from my toes. intricacy and talent evaporates too quickly, sometimes leaving me in snow up to my ankles. lets hope it doesn’t get any deeper this winter. i hate being rooted, as much as i love trees and other things of stationary beauty, i can’t quite rap my chakra into a house like they can their bark.
my computer keeps typing random j’s in random places in these random thoughts of mine. maybe a ghost of my soul is trying to escape from jjjjjjjjjjjjjj key. jmaybe i should just leave them in the places they show up. ji wonder why, but jit happens most often at the start of sentences. maybe it’s just trying to help me get a move on these bits of uncooked meat in my vocal chords.
jthey just show up. their little jbullshit dots staring into my pupils, reminding me of the ants that rob my dreams at night. i feel their little footprints on the backs of my eyes carrying the colors and accuracy of sleep photography from my memory.
i bite my lips a lot lately. no chapstick will cure this aching to act as if my cerebellum is occupied. really, i think i do it just to seem as if i’m discontent with the flowers that grow from my mouth. that’s all they are. blooms of pink and gray, blue and red. useful only for my own enjoyment and odor. my perfume doesn’t even sometimes cover the stench of such unearthly meanderings that flow forth from my pores. maybe when those flowers are pictured under my skin, people will understand the way i need sunlight, security, and warm skin to brush against. at least i understand it. and maybe it will help others desire to be soulful as well.
as far as ego is concerned, i’ve been doing some thinking because of how much it turns into a storm of hurricanes and tornadoes of my frustration lately. i need to understand it in order to forgive myself for it. and i’m starting in on the long process of seeing those flowers of green and gold. how can i understand and forgive anyone without first forgiving and understanding my aging petals and the mites inside them? i think it will take a lifetime to understand, and therefore i intend to utilize the power of forgiveness often and willingly, hoping people around me are willing to do the same for my mistakes.
i wonder if you think of things like these at all, or if it’s all rhythm and exploratory demands on the number center of the brain. no wonder herbs help calm desires of humans like you. i believe you have come to an early acceptance of all things in this universe rhythmic and patterned. i have been coming to understand your mystery, but i will never understand it enough to stop wanting to grow from it’s seed of patience, and the most welcoming greens of green at it’s center. you are the anchor i’ve been looking for i think. but i will always be moved my your indecisive noises, and flame in your heart. you will forever leave me a bit clueless and that’s the way it should be.
i love you.
and a little terror.
we broke up. and i’m losing all hope in myself lately. i need to find work and all i hear about is how horrible the economy is and how i will never find a job. anyone want to hire someone with an ability to create creepy garlic clove people with black pen on white paper? that’s about all i’ve got right now. that and some kick ass lime green headphones. bomb ass shit.
i’ve been writing letters lately. less than i should, and to fewer people than deserve it. i’m going to start writing more dreamy dreams and crazy thoughts. and thank the people that have been around and the people who are standing with cigarettes in hand and magic buttons in their pockets. they’re going to make me tea to cure my cough! and to help me create more vivid dreams. i love mischievous people and i told her so tonight. i hope i make them my friends. maybe it will happen if i don’t talk too much.
my lungs and my ribs are bruised and aching. i spilled gooey drippy cough syrup all over my pillow the other night. serves me right. blundering about in a half dream, trying to measure anything in the dark. it ran down my arms and dripped in the corners of my elbows. i smelled minty fresh. but i already see the light at the end of the darkness. i haven’t hacked nearly as much today, and i feel my stomach flattening from the work out. funny.
the trip was everything i needed it to be. but it didn’t save us. i guess if after two months of solitary confinement to each other we still can’t hack it i guess it’s meant to be over. now i just need to get my shit together. fucking be a man and go balls to the wall. the puppy is cranky. he gets silly after 2am. all pissy and full of glares and itchy ears.
fuckin’ tyra banks is on fresh prince.
a glimpse into the magical mystery tour:
eat your heart out. i did. i miss it.
for now… cigarettes and recess. yes recess. fuck yeah.
it’s hot and humid and i miss you. all of you. georgia is troublesome. one street down from my grandparents house and you (by law) have to own a gun. the gun shop has a kkk outfit in the window, and a man who would probably kill me.
we get along alright. we are doing pretty well. except for when we settle or get bored for two long. then we are irritable, angry, and don’t speak to each other.
so far we have seen, wisconsin, illinois, indiana, ohio, michigan, kentucky, tennessee, and georgia. tennessee ranks #1 for most beautiful and michigan has been our favorite. mine anyway. i already want to leave. be on the road. be badass. but we’re stuck here for at least another few days anyway. i think i get itchy when i’m with family because i don’t know how to accept kindness. i’m not good at it.
i suck.
i’m crabby and should write more when i’m in a better mood.
a night to remember. campfires always see me through the dark time and i find myself in a place where i can see future, feel sad, be happy and mostly just feel what i need to feel. no where is everywhere at a fire when the flames are as blue as the purple in my leaves, and the coals are as red hot as as the place in my shorts when i think of breasts and moans.
they twinkle in the darkness like sharing ancient secrets and i smile. the fire is blinding when i try to see my forest faeries. they know the language of the stars and they tell me that i should remember it before i forget it. i am saddened by the secrets they share while i am unplugged from the group… lost, unaware in the shadow of what i think i thought i was thinking i knew i had no place with anyone. and that can be ok.
no one will understand you like you do. it’s the only thing that matters.
i am leaving tomorrow. and i don’t know when i will “come home” or if i will even have that again for the rest of my life. i know now what struggle is and what a burden the cash money of life is. i am frustrated and repressed by all things societal and sporadical, and i haven’t even left yet. oh well. time that bastard old bitch will see me through to the other side one way or another. like this show on history channel showed me once, where you shit, can sometimes make you a whole new beginning. no sunlight needed.
and she came back to glen. all yellow and browns and reaking of everything wonderful, she almost stopped my world all over again. what joy she is. what light. and what a fine tuned love letter i could write! my, she is a dream, and i will miss her “as when while where” i go. i wonder if i will cry, even knowing that where her jingle bell goes, she goes.
i hope will smith smoked with uncle phil. puffy eyes, florescent windsuits, and all that bro cap can offer.
i dreampt of a turtle, a dream a dream a dream, oh what a dream it was. it was bigger than a child, and would not be caged. it bit my ankles, glared at me sullenly, and i remember crying. tears, streaming down my cheeks as i struggled to catch, and contain this beast of thunderous attraction. thats all that stayed contained in my memory, but i wonder often, since i’ve experienced it, if there is a meaning that i should unearth and uproot.
i wonder what’s meant of this turtle and i. i hope that we are kindred spirits and that i am not meant to be contained amongst all that wire and discontent. but mostly, i hope wherever he is and wherever i am, the sun shines often, and the flowers appear as often as the guilt does. for me anyway.
i love you.
keli
i’ve decided to bring back the term “stale” used as slang for “uncool” “lame” and “dumb.”
admit it. it’s pretty rad.
AND i heard it in an i love lucy episode.
start using it!
i found some pretty cool art on a blog today. thought i’d share.
make sure to full view that shit.
