The beach was exciting.
(Especially when we stayed up to watch the sun that never rose.)
I thought a lot.
I talked a lot.
I should've listened more, like I said I intended to.
I got cranky the last two days.
I asked for forgiveness.
She understood.
I am going to hang out with Nick Fava Monday.
I don't want it to be like Nick Kilmer.
I got my letter.
I listened to music.
I got my blink-182 tickets.
I listened to different music.
I am going for a walk.
There are things I have to do.

Today is the anniversary of Billie Holiday's death.

Strange Fruit Gives Me the Chills

Billie Holiday wrote a song, one of the few she authored herself, after she found her husband with lipstick on his collar. It is titled "Don't Explain." These are the situations were I am scared of the truth. It makes me feel weak, but human.

Stoof

I finally found out why the Liberty Bell is historically important and got my blink-182 tickets. I'm going to start an altered book. I'm not sure what the theme should be. One "Books On the Street," essentially, "read a book, read a book, read a motherfucking book" or "A Collection of Letters." I'm going to muse on it tomorrow. I was also trying to think of relating how books are dying and slow to convey information as compared to the internet. Maybe by making it a dinosaur. I dunno.

[Edit: The book I'm altering is Ulysses, so I might actually do the theme about how books are a home away from home or whatever, because the whole theme of Ulysses is him just trying to get home.]

Today, I had a fucking adventure

12 miles. Plus the tiny hike through the woods from point C to point A, after which point my shoes were soaked.

Rant: Sorta Coherent, Fades in and Out

"before my death I hope to obtain my
life."

I hate that I feel sexier when I wear make-up. I should be able to feel sexy without it. I don't like supporting this fashion industry. In my whole life, I have spent less than $5 on make-up, not including two vials of black and yellow nail polish that I wanted so I could paint my nails to look like bumble bees or the glow-in-the-dark polish I got for Halloween. My eye shadow and foundation were gifts from my aunts. I did not use the blush until I wanted to give Molly's figurine some color. I have not used the foundation. However, I have spent at least $30 of my parents' money to shave my legs and arms and hoohah. I wore no jewelry to prom. It's specifically sexy, though. I'm supposed to win guys with my personality, and I do consider myself on varying scales of attractive, depending on what I'm wearing, or what effect I'm going for. I want to tell everyone that it doesn't matter what you look like, the one who loves you will find you fascinating to stare at. Every curve and color, and it all blurs with tactile facets too. I, in all honesty, can't though, because I am proud of my genetics and lifestyle that have allowed me to live up to this standard of beauty. I love who I am, physically and in all other respects. There was a PostSecret with a venn diagram: "People Who Love Me, People Who'd Love to Fuck Me" and the words, "I fear that no one will be in the overlap again." Someone had replied to it, "My problem is, I can't find anyone I love and would love to fuck." They change everything and are so separate, but both so necessary, at least definitely at this young and raging with hormones stage. I have no experience saying at other times, but I think it's still similar.

Sunday, in the Park

Today, I walked to Bellevue from my mom's for the summer concert series. The band was very folky and from West Chester. They played "It Ain't Me" by Bob Dylan, which is maybe my third favorite song of his. I sang along. In between singing and scoping out two hotties (one with an Obama shirt, another with a Mt. Pleasant Band shirt), I would find this little girl staring at me and we giggled at each other. Eventually, her and her sister worked up the courage to ask me what my name was. I told them, and returned the question. I wasn't sure what they said, but I knew they were speaking French. We spent the next few minutes sitting, giggling, and me answering questions as they ran to their mom for "transduction." The older girl was 8, the younger 6. We played tag, and the only French I learned this whole time was how to call a time out. An older gentleman wanted to give the littlest girl a flower, and I told him they spoke French. He began asking a few questions in French, and they energetically responded. The younger girl had a leg brace and lift, because her right leg was shorter than the left. It was an amazing evening. I gave them my address, and they returned the favor. I'm going to ask Wasiq to help me compose a letter. They gave me pretty much the sweetest ego boost ever, because they took pictures of me for their vacation, and the American friend their parents were visiting told me that they were saying "tres belle," and that those sort of things shouldn't get lost in translation.
:]

Considering a Question Posed in Firelight

While everything said was true, I don't believe in "the one."

I like to think that I am aware of the transient nature of life, more so than most people. I have had days so beautiful, filled with activity and extreme emotion. There's that hypothetical, "If you had 5 minutes to live, who would you call and what would you say? Why haven't you said it yet?" Other than not being able to express who amazing my parents are, I feel like I've said everything. Maybe some people need it to be emphasized and clarified, but I try to live without secrets or hiding how I feel about people.

Closing Lines

"I don't want to loose you."
The spelling stung, but he was dumb and now I am loosened and it is wonderful.

"I still really care about you. We can talk about this whenever you need."
And now I am forgotten, my tongue tied.

"Do you want to try for something real, maybe later?"
No.

"I don't want to lose our friendship. ...take as much time as you need, and respond."
We never had a friendship.

The saddest thing in the whole world is knowing that despite all of the love still there, that this will be our last hug and feeling it end, very slowly, from a tight embrace, to merely standing there, holding hands.

Today

Today was awesome and the result of unfortunateness.
Jimmy hung out with Gabby all of yesterday, which was cool because I had to finish Molly's graduation gift. I asked him if he was free today, and he said, "No, I'm hanging out with Gabby again because she's leaving for Italy soon." Understandable, she leaves on the 13th, except that he's probably not going to want me back and I'll be leaving his life forever soon. Sorta in an effort to be mean, and sorta just because it's super fun to hang out with him, I txt'd Dan G. and asked what he was up to. We decided to hang out and frolic. The frolicking didn't happen, but we did bike around until eventually settling in to talk beneath a shady tree in Rob H. and Gab D.'s neighborhood. We talked about all sorts of interesting philosophical things, with promises to lend each other books and articles. Then we headed back to his house to meet up with Brandon, where they subsequently jammed. I was very excited to sit in on the jamming. Then we put french fries in the microwave, had "brownie bread," and Kool-Aid fruit punch. We decided to light sparklers on fire and have a water balloon fight, and I was conveniently wearing a bikini in case I decided to stop by Gina's. We had 17 water balloons and missed with probably 13 of them. Then we played "Civil Rights March" because Dan's hose looks like a fire hose from the south. It was fun and incredibly racist, but fun. We considered reenacting other tragedies, like the Hindenburg, but didn't. My pants were wet, and I am very proud to say that the only skinny jeans I have ever worn were Dan's. I just don't think they look very good on girls. Then we finally ate the french fries, tried to find people to come over, then sat in his front yard until Natalee and Kierstin showed up, followed by Taylor and Gabby. Dan, Brandon, and Gabby went inside at one point, leaving Taylor and I alone as Natalee and Kierstin left, and so we played volleyball, soccer, and catch with a basketball. It was a good time.

Thunderstorms
Waking up to a text message
Merry Dandelion Hunt
Making wishes on blue M&Ms
Having lots of green M&Ms
Disney movies
Vinyl Records
Doodling
Hipster fairytale alternative love stories like JUNO or Away We Go
How awesome art erasers feel
The way certain boys smell
Walking
Biking
The way trees look when they are full of sunlight
Shade in the summer
Hammocks
Lemonade
Stargazing
Finding shapes in the clouds
Sparrows
Playing guitar
Singing
Singing with friends
Making gifts for people
Writing letters
Making witty phrases or images
Reading
Climbing trees
Wearing pirate hats and [seasonally] scarves
Seeing people you've missed
Swimming
Wearing sexy clothes
Feeling sexy
Chuck Taylors
Oscillating fans in the summer
Sewing
Feeling productive
Writing love poetry
Making up songs
Free style rapping
Havin' money
Being proud of something
Acoustic guitar
Capo
Buttons
Fuzzy blankets
Painting
Stringed instruments
Sunglasses
My fancy camera
AWESOME music
Miniature things
Bandannas
Idealism
Holding hands
Tiki Torches
Live music
Feeling healthy
Fruit
Bread
Mac n' Cheese
Wind Chimes
Sitting down after standing up for a long time
Bein' a hipster
Learning
Reading Wikipedia
Reading poetry
Remembering
Trying to play harmonica
Talking to neighbors
Sunsets
Sunrises
Being awake before the birds
High heels [sometimes]
Callouses on my fingers
Vibraphones
Certain marimbas
Jack Kerouac
Music boxes
Cootie catchers
Long bus rides
Long car rides with friends
Blonde hair
Having fingers
Being able to breathe
Leaves in autumn
Old pictures
Sweaters
The perfect hoodie
Throw-back candy
90s Pop
Hot chocolate
Smores
Bonfires
Apple Cider
Milk and Cookies
PB&J
Fireworks
Lightning Bugs
Poetry & Literary tattoos
Kurt Vonnegut
PJs
Adventures
Christmas lights
Pictures of friends
Pictures from elementary and middle school
Bright colors
Beautiful prose
the word 'Incendiary'
Web comics
Science
The perfect resonating chord
Understanding a math or science concept for the first time
Having people worth biking to
The Beat Generation
Allen Ginsberg
Incense
There's oodles and oodles and oodles more I can't even begin to say or express or think of, but I have to go bike to a friend's house and frolic in the woods and maybe go to Wawa.
Wawa
Frolic'ing

I Am Amazing

all bo rock i d on ,

that's what it took to narrow down "It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)" on Bringing It All Back Home by Bob Dylan to "What a Catch, Donnie" from Folie a Deux by Fall Out Boy. Luckily, the first one is a long song. The genre is Rock.

[Edit: great line, "money doesn't talk, it swears."]

Very Muddled, Not Very Enjoyable Game

I play this new game with my iPod. I start on any song I want to hear, for example, Daughter, by Pearl Jam. I am very meticulous about having all of the correct information on my iPod, so it will also display the genre, Rock, the album, Vs., and maybe the composer. Then, I get it in my little head, that for whatever reason, I want to hear a particular song next, such as anything by Bright Eyes. Now, the band has published many albums, and is always of the genre "Alternative & Punk" or "Indie."

The game I try to play is, by the end of the first song, figure out what letters only those two songs or artists have in common. For example, to win this game, I eliminated all songs that did not have "ght" in them. That narrowed it to 70 out of 500 on the playlist I was on. Then I went for "ea," because of the Bright Eyes album which has the word "ear" in it, which made the count 7. Then I specificed to "ear." Then I added a D. Then a period. Then it was only two Bright Eyes songs and Daughter. Sometimes it is very hard.

Pablo Neruda

that that house is empty
and wants nothing to do with you,
your stories mean nothing,
and if you insist on being gentle,
the dog and the cat will bite you.

And something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire,
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and I suddenly saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open.

I want to do with you what spring does with cherry trees.

Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.

I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,
and you hear me from far away and my voice does not touch you.

Love is so short and forgetting is so long.

the rain repeatedly spattering
its words and drilling them full
of apertures and birds.

He learned the alphabet of the lightning

shut up the stars and bury the ash in the earth;
and, in the rising of the light, wake with those who awoke

Your memory is made of light, of smoke, of a still pond.
Beyond your eyes, farther on, the evenings were blazing.

I'm not sure what the graffiti speed has to be to replay in real time it took to draw it, but my most recent would be rather long.

[Edit: I found the "Stat" function on graffiti. I used 85 colors and it is a total of 175 meters of line.]

Huh...

In 1998, teenagers from Portland, Oregon, celebrating high school graduation held a wet T-shirt contest on a Boeing 727 to a Mexican resort . A flight attendant encouraged the activity. An FAA investigation followed, as pilots supposedly judged the contest on the flight deck, disregarding rules that passengers are not allowed in the cockpit. A video showed contestants emerging from the cockpit wearing wet T-shirts. The FAA disciplined the pilots for sexual misconduct.^[1]

Ugly Sunset by Ethic

Sunset, ducking beneath that horizon
what are you so afraid of?
it gave me goosebumps
undeniably dramatic
moonlight
pouring rain
whipping wind
one last breath
she rose out of that lake like silhouetted sea creature
polaroid proof
damaging my internal organs like soundwaves

if there ever was a moment to be labeled poetic
this was it
she was everything
and we were endless

and now she's nailing some other guy and
I'm trapped between the foreground and the background
as the only guy she knew
who could make her tingle
the breakup gave me acupuncture wounds in all the wrong places
which felt less like a sacred chinese method of release and relaxation
and more like being jabbed with a bunch of little fucking needles

so this
is to that sunset
which claims to be beautiful
with it's shapes and shades and mystical colors but really
it's one ugly motherfucker
that sunset
has put an end to more beautiful days than you care to count
that sunset
is the reason for teen curfews and little girls being taken from their homes
that sunset
is the cause of evil worldwide

fuck that thing
you can paint your canvas and snap your photos,
but I sumbit
that that is one ugly sunset

that sunset
and all of its hideous glory
barked death threats at me
and told me that if I thought it was so fucking ugly that I shouldn't look at it
and if I thought these feelings were too painful
then I shouldn't write poetry about them

I look at that sunset
because even ugly is beautiful
and humanity holds no standards
so kissing the audience with my break up poem is not self indulgence
it's taking something ugly
and painful
and heartbreaking beyond comprehension
and showing you just how fucking beautiful
life can be
so go ahead sunset
keep causing death and destruction and darkness
masking it as beauty
and go ahead baby
make me jealous
pluck my nerves and
yank those fucking tears out of me
I appreciate beauty
no matter how difficult it is to find

I hope you
can do the same

ugly sunset
ducking beneath that horizon
what are you so afraid of?

I might ask him to take me back.
I'm only hesitating uncertainly to make sure I really want this.
I don't think he'll say yes.