you say i chose sadness

destill @ 2004-05-17T18:05:00

2004-05-18T01:13:37Z

that's "flaming june" by leighton. i remember when i first saw it--in a child's art book. it was beautiful to me to the point of being asphyxiating. reminds me of how happy someone can be without smiling. the dreams that she has looped into the facets of her mind in that moment--not lost, but never found. those secrets are sacred.

how much we must miss in the clouds lacing the sky like poetry... how much we must miss not looking directly into the eyes of all the god there ever is...

i love the poets who refer to life and god synonymously--because life is really all there is, after all, and sleeping on heavy afternoons; and the smell of paint and oil and canvas; and dreams you forget because they get so deep under your skin that they lose themselves in your blood. yeah, god is the prose that swims in the clouds in summer, aching and aching and aching to be heard, but no one ever bothers to look up.

but that's okay, you know. that's okay.

destill @ 2004-05-08T16:33:00

2004-05-08T23:41:06Z

hiked up to the top of saddle creek mountain and felt like god existed because of the view there. also, i went tide pooling. i was five, yesterday, stumbling in the salt walter and picking up hermit crabs. they uncurl their claws in your hands and you're afraid they'll pinch you, but they never do. hermit crabs are very fashionable, changing their costumes sometimes weekly, said the woman in the orange t-shirt. thrifty, too, i thought. i fell in love with the ocean and the sea stars and making patterns in the sand. the day seemed like it was made out of the color yellow.

i love films where the stars smoke dramatically. makes them seem more tortured, and the smoke looks like poetry, i think.

no i don't believe in god, so i can't be saved

2004-05-07T08:38:39Z

today i realized that all the dandelions are fading into ghosts of what they were. smelled the air and it was rotting. seasons churn like that, i guess.

kept falling in love over and over again with the gray and with all the boys in pictures. "they airbrush those things," my mother would say. but perfection is perfection, and there's no argument, in my eyes.

never once

2004-05-07T07:08:13Z

...