new year project!

it is true..
i have hit a point where i feel like bursting.
too much...stuff has become overwhlemingly MUCH.
so instead of instantaneous combustion.(which i can do, but i choose not to)
i am creating catalogues.
after the new blog. the word catalogue kept knawing at me.


HOME CATALOGUE IMAGE 001


the glass: acquired after working at pappas seafood house, dirty after last nights micholada night!
the french press: acquired while working at the Houstonian Hotel, dirty from this morning.
Yoda: from McDonalds, looking at me telling me i have to do dishes...that crazy yoda

title: under debate

so...
look up to see her, like she told me to
the draw/erase board clean except for:
1.(a blank)
2. (a blank)
3. .....
10.(a blank)

SO!
my fingers cringe at the marker
the weight of decision
1...1...1...1...

sounds fall away to that silky curtain
smells sink passed those landfilled rainbows
visions curling with my toes, dissappearing under me
feeling the epipheny of self loathing rise

-watermelon is super tasty outside

Visual Currency Introduction

i can repeat the same song for hours...happily
the same CD... same youtube video. same movie. same anything.

easily amused? indeed.

enjoy...

pump it, roll it, let me hear you burn it

who was i kidding?
pfft!

lets go over this again

actually let's not

the iterations are bland and cliched to the point of exhaustion.

pointless entry 003

date..26th
time..09:32
black tights..number 6
book: 1000 years of non linear history
blog ID...652997714146674

I recall in Abstract Algebra:
numbers are a part of a field of the nothing my professor said
1 does not equal 1, but it equals zero..somethign about limitis and zeros
i dont remember..its in my notes somehere

all i remember:
new sequences of mathmatical symbols to prove it, and having a fraction of second of clarity. followed by another fraction of confusion...then another of frustration...then another of determination...then another of anger...then again...determination...there over and over and over...a whole semester.

numbers...a field of the nothing

snap... without the exclamation

well the main ingredient being
dark mollasses...and of course
ginger, cinammon and clove.

kneed it, rest it, cut it, gone

special occasions

the thing is that becuase its christmas
I should write about something
"christmassy?
which is:
not what its like
not what it is
not what it feels like
IT IS a morning
and a day
then a night
same as the day before
and still the day after.

:)))

Noone is cooler than him
nothing fresher
nothing sweeter
nothing more mine, than him
my mr.mine

i said I DO for a reason
millions of them..
ok, thousands

-watermelon tastes better off his lips

euphonic defintions render mariposa

we collide into a curtain sanctum
where worm holes are beautiful
and our mouths humidity soothing

the weakness crumbling up inside
rising and roaring to the thumping
to strangers' shoulders and hips

the soft recesses glowing
enhancing the folds of velvet
that sink at 3 frames per year

a season that statued you
the next that offered you
recently exposing you

red phosphorus

its one of the ingredients in the crystal meth cocktail.
and it was our daily toke...breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

my sweet smile as he ducks under the fence into the mud
my black jeans kneed to the earth, following his
the patchy greens emerging to conrete pounded dirt
crouching up with our gaze of purity and delight
mouthing the words i love you
his fingers silently curl to mine, guiding me
hugging walls and sleeping guards

is that it? exposed? unlocked?
it's red.
scitter...SCATTER...SCORE!

fuck you! tantrum

ah here it is...
typical who gives a shit rant!
do you?
i don't
surprised?
ur not
i'm not either

recal the first?
the second?
now the third?
you can't
i can't either

shifts in her seat
the uncomfort of forgetting so quickly
the dissappointmet of it all

kneels to the floor, head dropped,
picking at the bloody splinters
looking at his young face
her imaginary friend
welted eyes

bugga'

An interesting experience (on my part only, im sure) invloving a train, a big guy, and a stranger:
Big Guy wanted to sit but the empty seat between me and Stranger was too narrow. so i scooted my ass a bit off the seat and Stranger pressed himself the opposite direction... No eye contact was made, ever, even as the Big Guy kinda mumbled a thanks as he sat. I made no eye contact when i nodded the "no problem".
I was dissapointed in myself: i didnt look at him in the eye with a smile, making at least the smallest effort to show i am in good cheer, to share it.
Looking over, Big Guy had the fullest curliest gray hair. Holding a cup of coffee; his nails were nicely manicured...Didnt fit Big Guy really.
My stop. I smiled when i said excuse me.
He spills a drop of coffee on my shoe...BUGGA! sorry.
I smile...eye contact..a "no problem" nod.

winter harem

time folds ten-fold here
flavors of the week,
last 2, but not 3
thigh highs never fall
and hair never grows,
its attached.
i like it

-watermelons taste better and they glow

candy man paul

I have a friend who makes chocolate.
buy it!
http://www.chocolatsmeurens.com/
I've had a sample of most...the limoncello and pistachio chocolate made me squirm. :)

between 2 notes

strings curling at my biting teeth
as splinters pierce my gripping nails
perfectly displayed in guilt for you
your strumming burning my veins

relieve me... addict me
throw it out...that violin

red rover red rover

mirame bien

species

you'd think the girls would stick
but then
your Thai Beef Salad comes with no rice
so What The Fuck Do I Do Now NOW?
...
girls are flaky....

stranger

as if you had no choice?
deny those feelings?!?!
those feelings that make you feel proud of me
miss ur train....no?
a minute
...
sorry
...
i fell in love
...
cupid
...
love
...
look at me
...
liar
...
stranger...
yours...
always
yours
Stranger

mojo yogurt

pomegranate frozen yogurt topped with mango chunks
a treat on a cold day
followed by the discovery of missing mosaics
then by a naucious train ride with smells of vommit and urine
remember the yogurt
remember the yogurt
remember the yogurt
mmm...indeed
followed by what might be an awkward dinner with a friend
remember the yogurt

...pomegranate-watermelons would be awesome..seedless, of course

electrochic

her words are written in the form of her nemesis...liquid.
gushing, fiercly vomitting into puddles
emerging into charm and wit
innocently walking into the green room
that vividly pierces through her fuccias and blues
obvious to expose her intricately protected circuits
her faith in logic and rationale broken
experience
ex-pe-ri-ence...
ex
pe
ri
ence....
dissipating to a whisper of metal smoke

and THENNNN......

i return
with a mouth full of mountain dew (diet)
and a pink robe wrapped at my skin
that seems to wrap at my brain
soft and easy
swallow my heart
warm and safe
taking my strength
peacefully given


-grapefruit drinks are healthy

facet

sometimes i just feel like being a bitch
cold
aloof
careless
cruel

cutie pie...boston pie

Simply For Research:
The Boston Creme Pie
I was mistaken, is not a pie afterall.
"It is however, one of the most deliciously wonderful, artery clogging, melt in you mouth while distilling pounds of fat into your thighs cakes you'll ever have!"
And after careless experimentation, what "they" said is true...

I'll check in at noon

Mr. Ladies Man where are you?
Joe?
My friendly counter counterculturalist?
Where is that big fucking stick
elagantly coverd in my blood

Yeah that's the one.
.
.
splat, squish, drip
.
.
We might have to call the cops this time
I think we broke it.
Who's blood is this anyway?

head games

the consumption dream:
this one reoccurs always in my parents bedroom at the old house...the first one when i was about 10. laying on the bed. one feather falls out of the ceiling vent as i lookup. Never falling in a larger quantity than one, accumulating to twenty, hundreds, thousands...suddenly consumed by them but swimming in them. Not drowning just being consumed.
Two night ago i had it with Autumn leaves.
Sequence of emotions:
the joy of the single piece, the joy and fear of the abundance, then the beauty of the colors, then the fear of being crushed, devoured. An overwhelming feeling of not being able to be happy or sad about it...tormenting but beautiful. scary but lovely.

ok...maybe i am (going) "unstable"

laughing at myself has become a new passed time.
irrational thoughts... overspoken outbursts.
hyperactive spells of animosity, paranioa, and plain idiodicy
"chilling out" redefined as blank stares.
not being able to say the word c--zy anymore

buying single tickets to concerts.

uneventful event

old...yes.
they played it last monday at their show.
i went alone.
it was fine.
i bought a t-shirt to commemerate my 30.

recycle thoughts

about susana...
cute and super cool and yes, modest

about littly italy
the food sucks but the name of the street rocks....mulberry

about brooklyn
its a great place...you should live there for a year

about "4 adults only"
i dont know what this mean

maybe not the way to do things but it was done...by yours truely.

i'm not (going) crazy

submerged in our new tub by fog water
swearing it doesnt exist as it floats by
wrinkled hands at my crystal eyelashes
tracing the paths to the spout
squinting...straning to see its origins

double sided tape

I am squeezed between two standard walls
with the silver lining at the top almost grey
smitten by the pressure
but mor smitten by the glare

ps. jibber jabber
hitter hatter
bitter batter

sigh

so the deal is to go back home every january and this january we may not go.
miss my family...my "home".
yes i am home with todd in nyc
but still miss the hot summers...the huge highways, the cool air conditioned sheets, and the power outages after hurricanes.

-watermelon is healthy

LEAVING BK

:)

*
T
E
A
M
L
O
V
E

W
A
S

H
E
R
E
*

selfish

im tired.
exhausted.
cutting cactus, burning heat.
tread on the dusty pebbles.
the hole lies ahead
filled with still reflections
microscopic leeches at my throat
swelling
taking me
killing me
suffocated by my daydreams

coming soon

to a theatre near you
in your head
a story about you and me
divided by a split second
in space, called decision

dont miss out
you will be captivated
by real life
and whimsical dreams
of love and heartbreak and happy endings

monday night $1 beer

dressed in black
ur sweet face
take his seat
smile at me
join me
slow
awkward
beautiful
i should go
on my bike
grasp my lock
ur face was unforgettable

everything becomes nothing

stretched along this couch
eyes strain teared and open
red panties and pink tank wrinkle at my skin
as my fingertips dance at my navel
daydreaming
dreaming
streaming
music
playing
can u hear me?

rain

my thin blouse revealing my teal tank under
letting the damp hair at my cheeks
i look unkept, and bright, and carefree
maybe i look crazy?
no, that guy just did the 180
maybe he likes crazies?
I appproach the 5 dollar umbrella stand
but my green shoes proceed, passed
as water drips from my nose
fluttered eyes, I give the sky my face
In return it takes my thoughts
my fears, my doubts.
and gives me the rain...pouring rain.

bunnys hop

Bunnies hop and they hop...and are undeniably, irressistably cute.
that's what they do best and not much more.

revelations

they happen.
an awakening...my happy awakening.
im leaving for a bit.

coulda...woulda...shoulda

the last laugh out loud...lover of egg whites.
i still smile.
running bagels and sweet cream cheeses.
still smile.
show me off in vegas
pitch me a tent in washington
stroll my hand in new york
sing the prelude to me
on june 21...then july 21.
sept. 21 will be...my forever.

dabda's 2nd 'D' rant

you want a piece of this?
tell me someone who doesnt
hot
smart
funny
sweet
charming of course
take a piece of this
steal it
violate it
destroy it
then toss it back to me
ther are a thousand pieces to go around
.
.
.
all a perfect fit

unchartered territory

i am not a creature of regret
but it seems there is room to learn new tricks
mistakes have always been a tool to learn from
but it seems there wasnt a place for this one

scars

it's been a long time since i fell so hard and scabbed so badly...if ever

self portrait: 11 years in the making

I created once, when i was 18, a painting of my psyche.
the nude figures in the background i had to paint in my bedroom at home. this a was a bit difficult...trying to paint and pose at the same time. they were nice and fluid and warm hues...
The figure of my face, in the foreground. painted with studio lighting. protrayed by blue hues, colder and distorted. easier to paint and more accurate.

shoveling snow

hands grip this wooden shaft
fingers numb as we try to stay awake
feet sinking deeper
looking around for that summer sun
as it pierces through the breeze
eyes fluttering
lips creasing
hands falling
as a breath passes these dry lips
i inhale the spring air

the morning after

swallow this bitter pill
rays dancing on my desk
breezes at marys hair
metal music at my ears

swallow this pill and suffocate on it!
gag on it! cry over it!
until my body has ceased to feel
this soul has lifted beyond the skin
until the very thing that was
is no more

swallow it until the saliva dries
and nothing can grow
except this vanishing hope
that I am not what was

loving flaws

when mistakes are made and more love is given for them.

overconsumption

the love they give...i take.
glasses of golden liquid
cinnamon rays i kiss
moving images i read
all of it
i take it all for me
because i can
because you let me
because you want me

when physical is the illusiona and thought is what IS
i can be somewhere else
listening to the strumming of this guitar
feeling my foot tapping on a differnet wooden chair
i could be alone

MIA without report

when an inch apart still feels far away.

"smoke" break

people have their own way of coping with things. doesnt seem i cope with things..i keep my distance long enough to forget. i donot delete the person nor do i get angry, i just wait, they will get tired and leave me...well most do. the ones that stick around, well they stick around. i like those people, the forgiving ones to my moments off the map.

more seem to be sticking around these days. i'm not sure why.

swell

rising from the pit of my stomach
feasting on lemon rinds and black coffee along the way
bulding to the throat into a suffocating dryness
swelling into the figment of my imagination

a mere catalogue of memories of things seen and unseen:
a conservatory,
a field,
stairs,
parcel deliveries,
an island,
wind turbines,
a blue couch (i think)...

feeling the loss as i debate, grey? or blue?

body fluid overload

thanks friend...hand me that stick...as i stand over this pulp and liquify it to non-existence. maybe this time...yes! yes! holy fuck! yes!
god that felt fucking good...anyone wanna piece of this?!?!?
cmon!
please!
crazed. panting. swinging for takers as the tears welt at these eyes...
anyone?

closing time

last call for alcohol...and i sit staring at those great eyes as my hand gestures the extra round. lost in them...in the clear potions and brown eyes. intoxicated...infatuated.
words that leave those lips lost in the midst of lust covered in liquid love. digital red lines marking the point of near return. blue walls and reminding mirrors.
familiar gazed smile creeps over my lips. my hand stroking my thigh slow and deep.
brushing my hair with their perfect cheek and a goodbye.

migrating cynicism

waking up, the windows were fogged when i looked out. ordinary. cold.
but that clumsy bird made its way to my sill again.
'NOT NORMAL' the bird was labeled today.
"rather refreshing" i thought.
indeed, as cool as the wind that flooded the room.
perched on my shoulder through the day peeping its thoughts away.
it was patient in my movements and happy with my doings
so where did this 'NOT NORMAL' come from?
lets ask our imaginary friends

re-tro-duction

so it seems i need to break the ice with myself. it's been the longest and most uncomfortable and awkward elevator ride lately. the music keeps getting worse and each floor "ding" more nervous.
"might take a long time" he says
"what will" she asks
"the ride...to heaven...that is where you're going...right?"
and the ice was broken...badly...
but broken nonetheless.

mira me mi muerte moderna

the selfish-girl tantrum

the mood seems to be this very girly-girl mood... not the one that thinks in pink, but the girly-girl that believes in girl power and taking what belongs to her.. that no matter what, happiness and true self should outweigh any sense of tradition or right & wrong. that only she matters and the journey to herSELF.

-watermelon is healthy with an avocado, egg , and bacon sandwich.

no point entry 002

the girl named luci that seemed to have that undeniable spark that made you proud that she still existed somewhere...it was her sense of self expression and taking no prisoners in its action that made her so exquisite.
that every single one of her emotions, no matter how minute or dreadful, manifested into something tangible or visual or vocal...
she had such magic for creation.

thxluku 4 lykke

when you cant scream "i love you!!!" loud enough, say it really softly and hope it's truely heard by the heart.

soulja boyyyyyyyy

"watch me crank it, watch me roll"
pumping down the street from a boombox on a perfect scene brooklyn avenue. they were about 10 yrs old, these three kids...lookin straight out of a music video. and i couldnt help but smile at their youth and determination to emulate what they heard on the radio, seen on a tv show.
didnt have my camera but im sure they would have given me their best posse pose.

http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/graduation.jpg

hold this note will yah

new year always brings reminiscing...i have to adore todd for loving me even after singing this to him, piss drunk, in front of strangers...happy new year everyone...and shall the memories keep piling up