the bookstore

I've spent almost every free hour in the past three days at Barnes & Noble and I can't get enough. I want to sleep there and sniff the pages.

Blueprints

I don’t want to lose your scent.
The faucets running but im tired of washing , tired of waiting
and my issues on letting go have become more habitual than anything else.

your blue room,
your blue sheets
your blue heart is pumping but there is no oxygen,
no life,
no red.

you brush my hair behind my face and kiss the side of my cheek-
and you tell me you’re not pretending but,
standing at the faucet I feel otherwise inclined.

time to shower,
time to move on.

I play Chopin for you-
Nocturne in C Sharp Minor;
I melted into a formless being-
I thought I felt our energies;
bright yellows, a hue of orange,
a sunset.

when we fell asleep I matched your breath.
wrapping charges,
falling into you-
I had (no body.)

I linger to catch your scent-
I choose to remember all lovers this way.
In the distant future I will find myself walking along, and something will remind me of you-
It will catch me off guard and creep in from my feet to my fingertips and I will feel you all over again and the bed sheets will only be a memory and
I will know I will never see you again;
It will cut through me with razor sharp fangs and I will regret never knowing
You.

The contamination spreads and I feel more insecure than ever-
My body polluted with sheet music filled with deception and a man that was never worth my time or my music but-
I feel compelled to tell him that when the violin came to its crescendo,
I thought I knew You,
and I loved you for a fleeting moment-

he only held me close-
he holds all his women that way
I was nothing more than just one of them.

Confusion says:

I feel like I don't even know what to do with myself anymore. I felt the best about myself about a month after my last "break-up" but I think I misplaced some of that when I started to let go. It's almost like after all that hard work of readjusting myself and deciding that I need to change my life, I became way too comfortable and molded back into the same person; this creature of habit and I am just so tired of it. I feel like I give pieces of myself away and then all of these people have these pieces, and I only have one left. I need to take a nap and wake up in another country, or maybe just wake up when it's warm again, that would be okay too.

tikki tikki tembo

on my first day as in intern:

A patient at the Alzheimer's Foundation tells me she needs to talk; I pull her over to a secluded table and ask her to have a seat:

"I just don't know, i feel like I'm losing my marbles... I used to have my marbles. I just need someone to talk to. I'm so depressed.


It's like, I'm here; but something is missing.


I have to go home, my mother is waiting, and my father would be so disappointed in me. You know, I just want a friend."


(Her parents are dead, she doesn't remember)

Bluebird by Charles Bukowski

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?

step # 1: listening to your gut

i love spontaneity. you want to know why? well, that's because of times like last night- things falling perfectly in place just from one random act and having a domino effect. so, i suppose, depending on what kinds of things you believe in, maybe spontaneity isn't the right word. anyway, it was beautiful. besides the impracticality of Alex's house (the easily stain able kitchen counter tops, the 2 hour drying machine that dries, damp dries, regular dries, wrinkle removes, etc.. and the 3 hour dishwasher that should have gotten every bit of grime for the amount of time it took, and the perfectly placed comforter and pillows) it was fantastic. all windows and sky and complete silence. upon waking you hear the ocean and the sun is warming your face. no alarm clocks. i think to myself, had i not met that middle aged bisexual man who tried to kick it so hard to Sharon with his nonsensical bullshit of spiritual mastery, the course of events would have been completely different. so i entertain his thoughts, and he doesn't look at me, i ask him why i make him uncomfortable and whisper to him that i already know the answer; he closes his eyes as in deep in thought and nods his head. he is only trying to make an impression, to make me think he is thinking something profound, perhaps even, that he knows something about me and smiles coyly. he knows he's lying. i know he's lying. he knows i know hes lying. it makes him uneasy. on that note, i really detest people who attempt to charm, they're always the worst and they've always got something up their sleeve. when i meet people like this i look at my life and realize i am not as out of my mind as i believe myself to be.

the rest of the night was icing. we made new friends, one of which reminded me of; someone.

i feel content.

internship starts Wednesday?!

oh and p.s. i recommend everyone to see slumdog millionaires. i cried.