to the grave!

i was thinking about funerals last night and how horrible the thought is to think of losing anyone in my life. i am sorry but i must admit, that in this field i am awfully selfish.
i want to die before any of my close loved ones.
i do.
death has always been a subject that has been embedded into my head since i can remember. it's not really an eerie thought, rather than just a constant knowing that it is inevitable. sometimes i am scared of it, sometimes i am not .
once i even craved it.
now i am pretty much hoping to stay for a long time in order to experience my life with the ones that i adore.
i think this always happens for people. as soon as you get older, death becomes more real, more vivid, more in the cards.
it comes in cycles. it comes in storms.

i would like
a few songs to be played at my funeral (hoping that this does not happen for a long time)

but the classic "wish you were here" by pink floyd is a must.
"gong" or "singlapor" by sigur ros please
and
"sleepwalker" by santo & johnny.

other than that, that's all.

sorry for the depressed writing, but i feel really happy.
i just wanted to put that out there.

dusk in your hair.

this evening, i lay on my lover and rattled off my devotion to her. eyes locked and my messy hair sprawled onto her shoulders and chest. none of this dialouge was very calculated. it was restless and anxious and overwhelming.
(i've never been good at explaining how i feel).
most times, I ramble and forget-and delve into run on sentences and cry or laugh or zone out
and
fum
ble
fumble
fum
ble.
and my words were exhausting her, i know this. she wanted to read
she wanted to learn about something new and
something old.
(not me)
but
i wanted my words in her mouth.
so that they would never come out
and she would swallow them whole
without regret or momentary lapse
or sheer digust
from my sheer desire.
my veins lingered on the sheets
my hands falling into the mattress.
i want years to
unfold
and stability to ensue.
(but i am a dreamer)
iknowthisiknowthisiknowthis

numbers.

this morning, my eyes stuck to the center not wanting to leave.
last night, my legs and feet felt numb (bothered by the wieght of this nothing).

we finally finished recording after 3 days at the hangar. jordyn called it "boot camp recording".
and it was. but it was the most amazing recording experience i have yet to have.

it baffles me how much our friends and family supported us over the last 3 days.

i still feel pretty numb, empty and dazed. my head is a cloud.
i want to sleep.
i want to watch first 48.
i want to read.
i want to listen to anthony green and screamscreamscream
while lying on a bed/grass/shower/backseat

pulling out my teeth.

i have a few more hours to go at work.
i haven't researched much.

i don't know why the update but i think it is important for me to write out my thoughts because i will feel more stable after all this, hopefully.

machu slipped 30 dollars in my work jacket pocket because i am a broke bitch.
i was stunned and teared up at work.
she comes through esp. when i ask nothing of her.

my god.
lethargy is my friend right now.

19.

I've been reading a few blogs (ok, maybe just one in particular) and I have to say, I am not really into writing about the profound stupidity of others or about the "immense depth of my logic". It's pretentious.
And it's bullshit.

I'm sorry but i don't really think I am better than anyone. (ok, maybe a few assholes come to mind that I think I am a much better person than, but that is merely because I don't enjoy gossiping, lying, stealing, or killing). Other than that, I'm just as able and willing as anyone.

I would love to call this certain person out, but I'm a recluse and I would like to stay that way. I abhor drama and this boy would certainly bring it. But not in a straight forward kind of way, no
he's too good for that.

he's let me sinkandswim in it.

the way a good letdown should.

i know

i know a man who loves electronic music like making love to a stranger like he's known forever
i know a woman who loves a woman who ain't nothing never gonna leave her like tomorrow
s
are every
day.
i know a girl who is tempted to throw her shoes out the car window and pray for
everything
i know a boy who likes cereal like he loves his mother

i know what sentences should be but what they are not

i know a homosexual who is the msot beautiful face i've yet to see on the pages of a 652 page novel written in french, loved in english, smeared in spanish, and ripped apart in portugese.

i know a friend who is finally home tonight after 1 and half months overseas

she makes me write like this

all frantic, like.

poverty, at best.

if being poor means anything to you,
then i'll count my dimes darling because i have few.
i have songs that fill my head at a rapid pace,
books to the tons filled up on the sides of my non-existent bedroom.
with more cd's than any human probably should have.

i miss lucas johnson with my lungs.
i miss john horton more than i care to think of.
and i miss aaron fowler like i've never missed anyone before.

boys, all spread over the western terrain.
san francisco,seattle, and auburn.

i am in neither.

i am however, in a city that has led me to many new things.
need i list them, i may lose them so i will not.

and i don't know who this blog is for
probably no one
but being poor must be written about, sometimes.

9822.

i want to study the veins of her
or the blur that becomes us
as we fell frantic
on her bed.
in the night i was a fool again
i'm in love with a number and a
train
tunnel over my head
like lost beggars or petitions
on the way to a dynasty.
i pressed my scream into her shoulder
and felt my teeth break skin
fumbled my tounge
and swallowed blood.