Untitled
And then you leave
With the subtlest of warnings
And I wonder
How to stop the ache
I wonder
If it is simply
that I am not supposed to miss you.
And these relationships are unfair
because they are not reciprocal.
Preaching the irony
The way I used to love you was so quaint
our heads pressed so close
in all of those pictures we took
me smiling close-lipped
and looking prettier
than my alternative
with the bile choked back
and hidden by my teeth.
You shall have a herring when the boat comes in
I’m listening to this collection of Collin Meloy singing tracks which are like traditional songs or something. It’s very good. I like it a lot. Lately, I’m more into cover songs that originals… and I got the new Modest Mouse via scene leak and it’s just fucking awesome. I’m really impressed with it. My relationship with modest mouse has always been so complex… they weren’t really my style when i first heard them, but I liked the moon and antartica alright. Then, I bored of it quickly. So I didn’t really like Modest Mouse for quite a while. The version of Good News for People who Like Bad News that I had was also a scene version but it was downloaded by my exboyfriend, Jarod, who is one of the worst scene rippers ever. Actually, I think this wasnt’ his fault. The rip came from 107.7 the end playing the album live… it wasn’t like he just got weird versions and put them together like with Not a Pretty Girl by Ani. So anyway I didn’t really like that album because the bitrate was so bad and stuff. But as I heard the singles when they hit the radio, I liked them a whole lot. So I went ahead and downloaded this album. It’s pretty great. I respect that they’ve been on Kids Bop and still didn’t sell out with their next album. Kids Bop is so baller. You don’t even realize.
I’ve been having such a rough week. I’m just really depressed, I guess. The squad stuff and all of that. I’m supposed to write a couple letters about it sometime soon. Also, Joe was being mean a few minutes ago. I guess he has a right to be mean. But. Mrh. I don’t know. Part of me wants to try to move my appointment with my therapist up.. but I only have a couple days until I go there anyway… and I need to spend time researching tomorrow and I won’t do that if I go to the doctor. I don’t know. I’ll just try to work through this myself. I just don’t really feel okay right now, but I’m trying not to dwell on that.
I’m excited about my new relationship. I’m trying not to fall into my typical trap of hiding feelings in uncensored entries and not letting it be known how I feel and all of those things. He’s a great guy. I’m happy. I feel like I can talk to him about what’s bothering me and he’s just so vehemently on my side that it makes me feel a lot better before I go to sleep. He’s really good at cheering me up.
I worry. Because I know some people whose blogs are complete revelations of what they’re really thinking. I see in those the evidence that I could never have been what I wanted to be to them. But, you know, I’m not the one who has to deal with that anymore, and I feel better because of it. I guess the point of this paragraph was to say that I don’t want my blog to be that. Constant melancholy without revealing the good things I feel. Plus, I dwell on the things that make me sad all day and all night. I should at least be able to blog about things that make me happy.
I’m really worried about me. I feel like I lost my family. Like I communicate with those people in a weird dream. But I’m not alive in their waking anymore. That’s a mellodramatic way of looking at it. But fuck that. It’s how it seems. Awkward.
Four Twenty One
So the good news about all of this bullshit is that I just bought my Decemberists ticket. So while you’re all doing whatever it is you do… I’ll be drinking Boulevard Wheat and nursing a crush on Collin Malloy that is unparalleled.
Catching the clock
I have so much to say that I don’t even know where to begin. This is one of those blog entries which begins with a metablog on how and why i blog and how and why i’m bad at it, it seems. which is usually a sign that it will be a long one… but who is to say?
i guess the first thing i mean to blog about is my weekend. which was awesome, by the way. like seriously… i think it’s just the best weekend ever. my weekend starts on wednesday, if you didn’t know this. i had a manic episode. i’ll just be honest about that part because i think it’s important to get that out there. i hate manic episodes for several reasons…
1) i become completely irrational about consequences… as in, i know that my actions probably have consequences but i just can’t rationally think out what those consequences might be or why i’d be upset about them.
2) i become wholly stubborn and unmoving when it comes to my opinion about what it is i’m going to do. i guess this is because i can’t way consequences so my calculus even with other opinions still looks like a question “Should I do this thing?” with only one box to check “Yes”
Given that i think those boil down to the same reason… i’m just going to stop listing reasons, but there are others. I think that if I were ever to die as a result of my bipolar disorder, it’s more likely that it comes during a manic episode when i would convince myself of something truly insane. like that i could fly. but probably not that. probably like… that i could do infinity lines of coke in an hour. something like that. dumb. for the record, i’m not at much of a risk for that because i don’t do coke. i suppose i also don’t convince myself i can fly. ah, jess, this is so tangential.
so i have a manic episode and hopped a plane. some of this is because my mom called me a whore. i’ve since discussed it with her and it turns out that she didn’t call me a whore. she instead said that i was “whoring around” which is different. and i know that she actually meant it differently because it’s my mom. and we’re very semantical people. so that was that.
there is much more to this entry. but it’s not finished and i’m going to bed. so it’s censored for the time being. check back or something if it matters a whole bunch.
Read More
obsidian
lately i wear my heart like a weapon
and every new break heals with a scar shaped like a suture,
and despite my failures in chess
i prove my talent at calculated and calm
so that this stone is whittled into a precise point
and the black volcanic stone remains protected
within a sheath made of letter from the folds of other boys skin
and it swings at my waist with each step i take
you, somehow, pry my fingers from the handle
so you can hold them at my side
and with my focus distracted
you remove my weapon from it’s cover
as i glance in terror more than anger,
i am immediately calmed at the sight of yr reflection
printing itself on the polished black
let’s change this rock into something beautiful
like a necklace to adorn my clavicles
to honor them for carrying my heavy, burdensome heart
until you arrived to carve it into chambers
capable of pumping blood.
soldiers in sleep
i sleep recklessly like a child
conquering the territorial land mass of her crib
and lately i alternate,
making you an ally
or an enemy in my quest
as i reach for you
while nuding you
from yr rightful half
of the bed
and when we curled up
on the floor last night
perhaps my waking
in the panic of discomfort
sprung less from the awkward,
less-than-nestling concrete
and more from
the insecurity of disarmament
with so much new land to secure
and my favorite axis
undefeatable without my
favorite weapon: the edge
but in my sleepy wonder,
i noticed yr hand
found my back
each time i rose my head
like somehow,
you are aware of me
despite the lack of tripwires
in our new barracks
You could convince me
I’ve learned you first in the context of our bodies
exploring and discovering the physical nature of want
so as i find myself desiring you
in the quiet mements of falling asleep
i lose myself in the dream of what it is we have to learn
you could convince me of the truths i hold within me
the first being that i could be complimented
behind the habit of my awkward glance at the floor
whenever i hear a nice word said about me
exists the memory of a time when i could smile and respond
and in yr voice, i hear honesty, or at least
a twinge of truth ? i want to believe you
you could convince me of the truths i hold within me
the second being that i am not a whore
when yr hands hold my hips in whatever context
i feel pristine and untouchable
as though those who came recently
were only the clients in a cash transaction
paying for my body with insincere emotion
until i let myself feel a brand new sense of presence with you
you could convince me of the truths i hold within me
the third being that love means something beautiful
while simply being the glorious word we use
because i find myself unable to communicate
that look behind my eyes,
the one which over dinner says i only want to be yours
until the end of this conversation
and i hope we never tire or run out of things to say
Country mile
Well, the weekend is almost over and the most I have to show… other than some fancy foreign bottle caps for my necklace-making collection… is a phone with no backlight. Oh, and stories of what has turned out to be one of the best weekends ever. I was even impressed with Jack’s Mannequin live. and Kyle’s friends in carbondale are pretty worthwhile, though, I’d like to state for the record that after drinking with frat boys last night… I have again lost respect for the males of our species. I mean, really. Sometimes it’s hard to say if the majority of them are bad or not. And I don’t know what it was about me that was able to get around “mixed company” rules. But it really freaks me out to be in situations where I am obviously being treated like “just one of the guys.” Typical. Luckily, I was drunk enough to make fun of the kid who paid for sex 5 times in Germany. And then went off about how it’s just the prostitutes job to give him a half hour of sex if that’s all she says she’s willing to pay for. And that I think it’s ridiculous he can’t just have sex like a normal person. And I guess i was just really pissed that it’s somehow okay to treat prostitutes that way. Then I was thinking about how even in countries where prostitution is legal, a lot of the women will be trafficked and not understand that they have the legal right to leave. So after Kyle calmed me down once (I was a very good girl!) I was about to get all riled up again. Luckily, Kyle stepped in with this lovely bit of information… as verified by his viewing of Real Sports which is legit because it’s hosted by Bryant Gumble. So then I got to think about how this tool-of-a-boy was more-than-likely a rapist. I hope he sleeps well at night.
For that matter. He’s a pretentious mac user.
We’re headed to the terrible, wretched place of St. Louis for the night. I hate St. Louis. The worst part about the concert was everytime andrew mcmahon identified the crowd i was in as “st. louis.” I am not St. Louis.
Country mile by Camera Obscura:
Silver Birch against a Swedish sky
The singer in the band made me want to cry
We?re all inside our own heads now
We are leaving new friends
We are leaving this town
I wish you could be here with me
I would show you off like a trophy
The road it winds, it twists, it turns, now my stomach burns
Once again I?ll be the foolish one
Thinking a blink of these lashes would make you come
Don?t you worry, don?t get in a state
I don?t believe in true love anyway
Who?s being pessimistic now
I could document this as our first and our last row
The more you look forlorn, the more to you I warm
I won?t be seeing you for a long while
I hope it?s not as long as a country mile
I feel lost
An explanation
I guess I could try to explain myself… but really, I can’t. I think that life is sort of bizarre sometimes. Sometimes I just get upset. I get tired of people telling me that I am a whore and treating me accordingly. I just needed to get out of town. I think I had two options… one was a depressive episode and the other was manic and I went with the second. I’m not sure I still feel that way. I mean, of course there are a lot of things I’d like to say… but I can’t right now. I don’t think I have the words. I just have a whole lot of… Agh.
it is not what you think. I think it’s weird that Tyler got into a relationship with Jennae like 1 minute after he text messaged me. Hah. How brilliant. Also, I think it’s interesting that Joe apparently no longer things Jennae an idiot for being with Tyler. Or something. At the very least he congratulated Tyler. And i want the record to show that I did not drive to St. Louis to have sex with random guys. Dammit.