Random Thoughs and A Dream

I can't sustain a frame of mind for five seconds without wanting to leap out a window. Living is too difficult without having what they value. A gift could be anything everyone already deemed worth being such. Selfish selfish selfish. do I ever ask what he or she or they are doing because maybe they know a better solution to existing. When all our surroundings are polluted, what happens to the human being? Can we really live in filth and not become it? Feed me but give me the tools to feed myself first. I feel like the word career has become a synonym for suicide.

Last night I was in a first person shooter killing hi-res aliens in very creative ways. I was also in a swimming pool with my cousin and he asked me to summon the king of the sea but a woman showed up instead, materializing out of the water. He wasn't fooled. He wore a crustacean suit. A facebook aquaintance was trying to steal everyone I love. I was traveling in a cirucs caravan with a girl with tan skin and dark hair; she was telling me I'd see my love soon. I was in a house cleaning with Alysha but I was a woman named Joe instead of myself. The landlady next door told me that I was paying rent there too and then two men at separate times told me I'd impregnated them.

Dream Journal Entry #2

I'm in a spacious auditorium not unlike the one from my old High School in Parowan, only this one is much more lavish and extravagant. There are ten or less people in the crowd and one of my favorite bands, Grizzly Bear, is playing on stage and also somehow spread out in the audience. I'm seated in the balcony area with a snare drum and a cello in front of me. I meekly try to drum along with the beautiful music being made, but I feel out of rhythm. One of the band members is suddenly right next to me, bow in hand, and starts to play the cello as if it were an entire string section by itself, all the while singing high and melodious; the other members then join in and the sound is ethereal. The music dies down and all that's a left are a few simple but gorgeous notes on the cello. The concert is suddenly over and Edward Droste the lead singer is talking to people up in the balcony area. I approach him and ask him how he feels about his newest album Veckatimist. I pronounce it Veh-kat-uhmust and he seems confused...apparently I've pronounced it wrong. He says, "I thought it was Veh-ka-timest? But who knows." I apologize for prounoucing it wrong but he doesn't seem to mind. We talk about the album for a bit but the details are vague. I'm then suddenly in the hall-way locker area of my alternate reality high school, following two blond girls in ponytails and large sweaters who were also at the concert. They're conversation is inane and I feel an extreme dislike for them both. It turns out they're both supposed to be cleaning out the lockers and they quickly start opening lockers and discussing the things they find. I quickly walk past them and head towards the exit when I hear Mrs. Doubek, my fifth and sixth grade teacher, yelling something behind me. She doesn't seem to approve of something I'm doing. The dream ends.

When My Chest Suddenly Weighs Ten-Thousand Pounds

I hate waltzing alone
And
I hate telephones
I want to come home
So come home.

Dream Journal #1

I've decided to begin recording my dreams on this blog, completely uncensored, so here goes:

Eerie ambient music is playing while a woman with dark hair is sitting at a bench on a beach. She is surrounded by vibrantly colored trees and coral, almost neon. The water is seperated into a large array of tide pools filled with bright fish of every color. Some of them swim forward and some of them swim backward as if they're rewinding in time. The sky is black with clouds and bright flashes keep obscuring my vision, flashes of lightning. The woman seems upset and worried. There is something sinister about everything. Suddenly I'm the woman and the water begins to rush up against me, I run and run trying to escape the rising waves but every level of the sandbar I ascend is soon covered in water. Finally, the waves are some how ahead of and behind me. The waves form impossible shapes and are deadly close to crashing down on me when I tell myself to escape. So I fly high above them but with great effort. I fly back to a beach house where my family is gathering, and I am myself again. People are watching tv and preparing food and everything looks very splintered and no one is really who I think they are. While flying through the kitchen, my boyfriend informs me that he kissed a man the night before and I fly on, unsure how to feel. A fat man named Stanley in camo tells me he is preparing for the army. He is awkward and strange. My flying is very inconsistent, but I love the feeling so much I keep trying to soar. I tell everyone how great it feels and some of my sister's attempt to but they are unable. The dream goes on like this for quite some time. Things are said and some of the locations change but I'm still flying around and feeling wonderful. The dream ends with my boyfriend and I watching Stanley on a tv screen in an army truck, sticking out like a sore thumb among the other stone-faced army men. That's all I can remember.

Outside and Inside because You are both Places

Whether I wither into a dunce
Or grow to great acclaim
I will always remember the meanings
Attached to my name

I need this to work so badly. I need to be in a good place. I'm so tired I barely want to move most of the time, I'd rather attach myself to a world that isn't mine. 90% of the sentences I write begin with 'I'. Will I ever move outside my own head? This is easier than a journal; I can't even read my own writing most of time. I'm happy but I'm also tired. Shouldn't happiness give you energy? I hate feeling like I'm going to crumble in most social situations. I can't remember telephone conversations I have with Landlady's or businesses or potential employers because I get so nervous I barely know what I'm saying to them. Wouldn't it be great if I could regulate or have absolute control over my reactions to people? I'd say it would be great if I could control other people's reactions too but then I get into creepy controlling tyrant person territory...I'm already afraid of becoming that enough believe you me. I really want to make something beautiful but I can't without doing this first, and maybe even after doing this I'll still have shit. Can it be pretty shit? I can't wait until I feel completely whole if that ever happens. Tomorrow I'm going to get a place that is mine, won't that be nice? Now I just need a job. The house just dropped into my lap so it really isn't fair of me to assume that the job will too. Soon my love (who will probably read this, kiss kiss kiss)you will be with me, I feel it, but don't take that as a hint or a pinch you have to do things within your own time, as do I, but I get by on pretty horizons. You are that wavy pinkish red I saw flaming in the sky yesterday...I actually tried to take a picture of it on my phone to send to you but it was greatly demeaned by the quality of my camera phone and thus not worth it. I keep thinking of how we'll truly have a life together here, temporary though it may be...it really is a lovely place. From there we can go anywhere! I think we should serve some kind of orginization that helps build homes in foreign countries together for awhile, and then we can live in a small place in San Fransico and or on a beach somewhere...I don't know, I just think we should be adventuresome. This started out as a rambling stream-of-conciousness and then turned into a message to you, but I guess that's part of it anyway. Sometimes I just speak better in letters than in sounds. I love you, and I know you love me too. It makes me so happy when you write beatiful things or get excited about projects...there's nothing more sincere than the look on your face when you can see something that isn't made yet but you know you can make it. I feel like such an awkward nervous bastard sometimes but you don't care and I appreciate that. I'm growing, we both are. Growing sometimes works better in pairs. I'm going to go eat garlic fries and sugar-free shakes whilst watching Gilmore Girls. I hope you are happy and not worried. I love you.

Spew

Wow oh how I'm not
The feeling reeling being
I used to be
Petrified from identifying
All the cold spots
On humanity
Block on cock it does
More adoring than doing
Fuck my luck and lack
Of knowing
Built to be boring
Am owned by the stones
Arms all bone
And heart like a firearm
Truly shooting up
Bunches of truth
I am not and won't
Be warm
I am not and won't
Be warm

Untitled

Hope went down the hole in your throat
While words came armed and out
I cannot do battle with your mouth
It peels me down to the truest nude
Rude with reason and spice of mind
I am a blushing child
I'm young and dumb enough to love
For absolutely nothing.

Winter

I can't hate it enough
When Christmas trees come down
When I flounder for an honest hello
Force fed motivation puts me in clothes
Where did my hands go
I don't know
You political bundle of expectations
Everything's a dice roll closer
To feeding my libido
I'll never know
How sitting in a room of bodies
Could mean anything more then measuring cups
Never filled up
I want it to snow so much
That I never have to feel anything more
Than numb.

Liam

Peach-faced with an infant grin
Screams, milk hungry fingers
Pink palms careful against my beard
If I were small again...
Net-eyed and absurd with beauty
Instead of a small bodied nothing
The correct kind of miniscule
His artist heart in every moment
Noticing the language of eyelids
And reading lips like a mechanic

I now function on fear and panic
Crawl on all fours out of sadness
When did I stop howling for joy?
Blind and deaf to derisive observers
The howls now hushed to moans
I still find echoing in my stomach
How I shrink in time's tyranny
And agree to believe in other ideologies
Outside that of being naked and free
Little mentor make me bold!

I will lie beside you Liam
Catching coos and awws
It is more like poetry to me
Than any man or woman in a suit
With a Degree
Bleeding beneath it all.

Delay

Finally a teenager at twenty
Allowed to feel brash and dirty
The head of a handled beer
Off flies the bottle cap
Here comes the queer
A manic dancer between hands
And heads and lips and hips
Feel me up already
I felt you across the room
Fit in your iris like a microorganism
I can only love you there
The company kills my senses
Words spoil me and seem enemies
Alcohol adrenaline did it again
Sorry Sorry Sorry
More sincere than a smiling dog
A punch to my maw is necessary
I am not a cautious mouth here
Unbridled and obnoxious
I killed the kid in me too quickly
Now he's going to kill me
...I don't mind.