Saturday, May 30, 2009

sex and homelessness.

the sweat riddled down her chin
into her ankles
she was unable to shut out the two men speaking
behind her on the bus.
two ears, mindless thoughts
about sex and homelessness.
her weak wrists
turning into

lying on his bed for the night
he unbuttoned his shirt
and let him sink into him.
callous and violent, he grasped
his arms and screamed for him
(some color)
"i'm no good at this", he said
in between breaths.

i would walk
for too many blocks
with stranger's screams in my eyes
my head
all the while
thinking of her.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

let him sleep on.

anxiety, anxiety, panic panic not non non non non.

ok. let's re-discover the outer world and the people that live in it. the ones with honorable mentions and rare diseases. please.
i want commotion. i want nostalgia. i want to barely breathe.

my hands clenched tight as she told me the news, the old girl with the new words of the ancient thoughts with the 2 year old motives of the modern day, today.
i, being human (aw please god make it not so) am inclined, almost obsessed with keeping what is mine (and even if it is not, trying to attain it so)
i'm quite fond of small things, like rings or bands or placemats. I don't think i've ever told anyone
i used to collect metal.
i used to sing to my first LP on vinyl, diana ross + the supremes.
i used to watch my dad mow the lawn from my bedroom window.
i used to impersonate elvis.
i used to be in love with a girl named selena. she was mexican and 4 years older than me. i was 9.
i used to hold my grandmother's hands.
i used to hug my dad and mean it.
i used to pray.
i used to play football outside in the front yard with my brother.
i used to light candles in my bedroom.
i used to fall asleep to sigur ros at night.

when the present isin't what you want, think of the past and it will make you laugh.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

to amy.

i am grateful to know you,
you, with your gentle eyes and
heavy heart.
you tend to wear it on your sleeve and that is why i
adore you.
you held my hand last night and hugged the bigots.
you made me cry last night.

you care so much for so many.
you inspire me.

i am baffled by the hate that is so prevalent
after all these years, you would think history would
wake some people up
yet we still find those ignorant and oblivious.

thank you for being you.
thank you for being accepting of things that you are not.
thank you for loving things that you are not.
thank you for understanding things that you are not.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

thank you, genet.

"i never lived out my sexuality in a pure state. It was always mixed with tenderness, perhaps it was just a brisk, cursor affection, but until the very end of my sexual life there was always - well, I never made love in a void, I mean without a bit of human feeling."

Saturday, May 23, 2009


for some reason right now, i am fascinated with remembering the year 1996.
(nostalgia seems to be my obsession, i guess).

i don't know who reads this blog but i think i like to remember for the simple sake of remembering. documenting is also an obsession of mine because i think that when I die, something will be left (even if it is on the internet).

but 1996.

the olympics ruled my heart. moceanu + whatnot (but i've talked about that already). music was huge for me. fiona apple, bone thugs. biggie + tupac. TLC. aalyiah. edwin mccain's one hit. sister hazel (ha, i admit) god, back then so many singles. ones that you would be afraid to admit that you liked today but back then, you couldnt help but love.

i remember lying in my bed with headphones on, falling asleep every night to Third Eye Blind's self-titled album. it was comforting. it was red.
i still love that album. I recently found 3 other people to admit that they not only own but love that album as well. it was a relief.

i also remember when MTV was good. when you could turn it on and find music videos of all genres, interviews with your favorite artists, and good documentaries/movies.
Romeo + Juliet. I was obsessed with that movie. Titanic. Basketball Diaries. (i think i was obsessed with leonardo dicaprio).

Or, remember MTV's "celebrity wrestling"? i used to watch that show with my brother and cousins.

or golden girls! i still love this show immensely but i used to watch the marathons with my older cousin Gary. I would make fun of him and call him "dorothy". he took pride in it, secretly.

i miss him.
i just realized that.

remembering so much kills hours.

Friday, May 22, 2009

white night (s)

last night in the living room, the tv blaring, the dogs running around, the family sitting on the porch, and i alone in the living room heard slightly frightening news

the anchorwoman announced that it was the 30th anniversary of Harvey Milk's death. "the white nights" protests that had occured 30 years ago in S.F. were blasted all over the news. it was amazing to see but sad at the same time.

she then remarked on the Supreme Courts ruling over same-sex marriage in California. The decision will be addressed Tueday morning.
there will be a huge rally on the corner of 20th and L st no matter the decision.
(mygodpleasedontletignoranceandarrogancerulethisstate. pleaselethumanbeingshavehumanrights. endwhatnonsensewehavebeenlivingthelast5monthspleasepleasepleaseplease).

if not, then let there be protests just as fierce as the "white nights". and why not?
why not reverse to violence that happened 30 years ago? I say, go for it.
we are reversing back into time anyways with the decision to discriminate.

i say,

violence? it's hard to not want it when you are felt less than human.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

crime + homosexual (s)

as of late, i am utterly fascinated with crime shows and early French homosexuals.

one of my favorite things to do is lie in bed with jordyn and ophelia and watch "the first 48". it's a show about investigations within the first 2 days. it's amazing and watching it has somehow rekindled my old childhood fasination and intrigue with becoming a police investigator. I don't really know why but I want to be. Always have. So, I called the recruiting office and will have an interview within the next few weeks.


i don't know. maybe i'll erase that thought.


early french homosexuals have caught my heart. jean genet is one of my favorite writers. his elusive and ever sexual writing has me in a trance.
he wrote about making love as if he was making love while writing it.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

the stoic (i cannot be)

i just read the handbook to epictetus during my work shift.
it is brilliant and humbling. i hardly doubt that i could be a stoic, a real stoic simply for the fact that i have this blog. a real stoic needs no outlet, needs no audience, needs nothing. he is "an invalid" and a perfectly content one at that.
i wish that i did have that self-sustainability and rather genuine indifference to the world and to my friends, lover, and family but i don't.
i care what they say, feel, do.
i wish i didn't feel the need to write on this thing (but i hardly doubt it finds it's way to too many eyes anyways) but still! even so, erase the need.

i don't think i can be one, sadly. i would love to be, do not get me wrong but i fear that i just don't add up. i let things that are beyond my control bother me or affect me. other people's emotions, actions, judgements, words.

there was a time i do admit, where i was royal and forthright in my head. it was when i dated men. i just realized this. when i dated men, i was independant, loyal to my solitude, and quite ok with being alone. i was devoted (don't get me wrong) but i was confident in myself and never doubted my actions. i felt strong. strange.

women get to me and i am much more developed when i am with them. i open up alot more to them. not to say that i was ingenuine in my male relationships (when i love, i love hard) but with women (esp. the one i am with now) there is no hiding. there can't be.

to be a stoic is much like to be a minimalist. i once dated a minimalist, or atleast he was in the throes of becoming one. he wore his shirts inside out. he ate small. he lived in a small apartment with a really uncomfortable mattress on the floor, no TV, only a few books, a cd player, nothing on the walls, a computer in the dining area, and a small closet of clothes, a few pair of shoes, and a tub of his ex-girlfriend's letters and photos. he was a minimalist. he quit his job. he read a lot. he listened to dance music more than anything. he took very long (and often times) aimless drives in his beat up Honda Accord. it was amazing to know him. he once took me on a drive in the country and we saw a camel. it was strange. it was beautiful.
we broke up.
(come to find out i am into women) and he is into the sea.
he joined the navy and is now in Japan or Thailand. (he moves around constantly)
we are now friends.

sometimes, i'll be lucky and get a call from a strange, long, and unfamiliar number
and get the voice
of someone so close to me.

in 3 gleams.

today i am irritated and annoyed with strangers. i don't care about your problems. i don't care about your lost reservations. i don't care about your mother/father/lover/brother/

or your failed suicide attempt.

i'm sorry if i sound like an asshole but i'm quite self-induced with wanting nothing more than to lie on a bed (any one at this point) and read anne sexton or that genet biography i recently purchased.

i hate the sound of screaming babies and the internet that allows you to look and reflect on the past or other's pasts for that matter.

god. i don't want to be human. i don't want my actions to be something "understood" yet looked poorly on.
it is common, yes, to fail at times in the ways of a lover. i am not proud of this, but i do not deny it. it is what it is. to fail as a friend. to fail to yourself.

today, and only today, is a day where i want to shut out most everyone and not think.

to hide inside a color and lie still frame.

to be nothing. to want nothing. to not even be aware of the word "desire".

reclusive, in 3 gleams, to the wall.
(to mirror that).

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

i'm glad i'm not a boy.

she would be pregnant by now.


anne sexton breaks my heart. i found her writing this week and was enthralled, inspired, and in a trance. her writing is beautiful and tragic and quite appealing (just to tone it down a bit). I, being the nerd with alot of time on her hands during work hours) researched her and found out that she cheated on her husband many times and hurt her children. Now, i'm not a advocate or believer in cheating (i think it is cowardly) but I understand that people make mistakes, stupid mistakes. Doesnt make it right, but it happens. It's lame but it happens. But you don't fuck with kids.

Anne Sexton, you don't fuck with your own children, or any children for that matter!

I'm so dissapointed and mad right now, i am screaming to the clouds in the hopes that my voice breaks through to you.

i was looking for a literary hero ma.

you just can't be it now.

bad (and) beautiful

it's been a good week since i wrote anything. my mind is a mess and a whole lot of non stress/stress/ whatdoesitmatteritdoesntmeananythingitwontin2months kind of ways.

i've been sleeping in numbers lately and my wrists still hurt like a motherfucker.

ophelia is growing so big.she is bad. but she is beautiful.

jordyn many fucking things to me.

anne sexton is ruling my life right now.

and suicide is a topic i'm going to research tonight.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

dominque moceanu.

this past week has gone by rather quickly. i don't remember anything. and it's only wed. night but it feels like November. or the 13th. or 2 years ago. i'm emptying out thoughts on paper in class today and i hear nothing from the teach but static.

i need to ice my wrists.
i need to work on vocals.
i need to stop saying "i".

lame. we all write in the first person. i guess. guess.

here are 2 topics i researched tonight.

1. the 1994 rwanda genocides-nearly 1 million people were killed in 3 months. that is 10,000 a day, 400 an hour, and 7 a minute. 500,000 women were raped and either killed, tortured, or contacted HIV.

fuck you killers. fuck you.

i have been quite obsessed with this story for some years now and perhaps it is because i cannot grasp the human physical ability to commit such grave and cruel acts. and all of this simply because of a fucking racial "divide" myth.

i had to chill out so i researched this girl.

2. dominque moceanu- i used to have it bad for this girl. i'm talking mary j. blige "real love" kind of bad. i think this was when i could not deny my sexuality. i was 12 during the 1996 olympics. she was 14. she was the prettiest thing i had seen at the time. and she was humble.

Monday, May 4, 2009

(weak) wrists.

my wrists are fucked up more than before. hardly able to write or type without them flaring up.


today i feel restless and passive. it's very conflicting. the last two days have been filled with fatigue, my body wanting her bed more than ever. i wake up and i am tired.

i took a 40 min. nap with my puppy today. i don't remember falling asleep. i was reading a novel on the Rwanda genocides and next thing i know, i am waking up to time fast forward.

thank god i have tomorrow off.
(band practice, picking up my check, paying my rent, getting coffee with jordyn. i hope she is feeling better).

day. off.

Sunday, May 3, 2009

mornings (with) machu.

it's 8:41 am and machu and I have been misquoting Shakespeare since 7 am. currently, she is asking me how compatible i think she would be with Adena (the character and love of her life from the British sitcom ABFAB).

i fucking love machu.

we looked up Dominique Moceanu earlier. i used to be madly in love with her (when i was 14). she now has 2 children and a husband. wierd.

i don't feel grown up yet.

p.s. machu's hair is amazing this morning. she looks like a fly girl from the 80's.