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[24 May 2006|08:25pm] |
HERE NOW : ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) espejos
ADD IT.
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[24 May 2006|06:06pm] |
the windows open
feel so nice, i want
to go outside and lay in
the grass and play
basketball and have a pic
nic. and the mexican kids
nextdoor play outside, and yell
and yell and yell.
today was my last regular
day of high school. i am
going fucking camping this weekend.
i'm gonna catch a frog.
i've gained 7 pounds or some shit.
time to get on that bike. ride or die.
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| what i couldn't say |
[21 May 2006|04:43pm] |
After Twelve Days of Rain
I couldn't name it, the sweet
sadness welling up in me for weeks.
So I cleaned, found myself standing
in a room with a rag in my hand,
the birds calling time-to-go, time-to-go.
And like an old woman near the end
of her life I could hear it, the voice
of a man I never loved who pressed
my breasts to his lips and whispered
"My little doves, my white, white lilies."
I could almost cry when I remember it.
I don't remember when I began
to call everyone "sweetie,"
as if they were my daughters,
my darlings, my little birds.
I have always loved too much,
or not enough. Last night
I read a poem about God and almost
believed it--God sipping coffee,
smoking cherry tobacco. I've arrived
at a time in my life when I could believe
almost anything.
Today, pumping gas into my old car, I stood
hatless in the rain and the whole world
went silent--cars on the wet street
sliding past without sound, the attendant's
mouth opening and closing on air
as he walked from pump to pump, his footsteps
erased in the rain--nothing
but the tiny numbers in their square windows
rolling by my shoulder, the unstoppable seconds
gliding by as I stood at the Chevron,
balanced evenly on my two feet, a gas nozzle
gripped in my hand, my hair gathering rain.
And I saw it didn't matter
who had loved me or who I loved. I was alone.
The black oily asphalt, the slick beauty
of the Iranian attendant, the thickening
clouds--nothing was mine. And I understood
finally, after a semester of philosophy,
a thousand books of poetry, after death
and childbirth and the startled cries of men
who called out my name as they entered me,
I finally believed I was alone, felt it
in my actual, visceral heart, heard it echo
like a thin bell. And the sounds
came back, the slish of tires
and footsteps, all the delicate cargo
they carried saying thank you
and yes. So I paid and climbed into my car
as if nothing had happened--
as if everything mattered--What else could I do?
I drove to the grocery store
and bought wheat bread and milk,
a candy bar wrapped in gold foil,
smiled at the teenaged cashier
with the pimpled face and the plastic
name plate pinned above her small breast,
and knew her secret, her sweet fear,
Little bird. Little darling. She handed me
my change, my brown bag, a torn receipt,
pushed the cash drawer in with her hip
and smiled back.
---
things are ok in my heart again
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[16 May 2006|09:52am] |
thank you fabrice rochalemagne for teaching me how to make the best eggs ever.
thank you lane tech high school for not giving a fuck if i leave after 1st period.
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[15 May 2006|05:05pm] |
so today i'm on the bus
and these two boys are talking
about impeaching bush
and they have no idea what
they are saying. it made
me really glad to have taken
ap government, even though
i am failing, i am so much
smarter than the talking heads,
as mr. deross would say.
in our new place, patrick
and i are getting a kitten
and blessing our floors
with 40's and maybe some
incense and really good friends.
the big guns are comin' out
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[13 May 2006|04:44pm] |
BEER
from: Love is A Mad Dog From Hell
I don't know how many bottles of beer
I have consumed while waiting for things
to get better
I dont know how much wine and whisky
and beer
mostly beer
I have consumed after
splits with women-
waiting for the phone to ring
waiting for the sound of footsteps,
and the phone to ring
waiting for the sounds of footsteps,
and the phone never rings
until much later
and the footsteps never arrive
until much later
when my stomach is coming up
out of my mouth
they arrive as fresh as spring flowers:
"what the hell have you done to yourself?
it will be 3 days before you can fuck me!"
the female is durable
she lives seven and one half years longer
than the male, and she drinks very little beer
because she knows its bad for the figure.
while we are going mad
they are out
dancing and laughing
with horney cowboys.
well, there's beer
sacks and sacks of empty beer bottles
and when you pick one up
the bottle fall through the wet bottom
of the paper sack
rolling
clanking
spilling gray wet ash
and stale beer,
or the sacks fall over at 4 a.m.
in the morning
making the only sound in your life.
beer
rivers and seas of beer
the radio singing love songs
as the phone remains silent
and the walls stand
straight up and down
and beer is all there is.
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[10 May 2006|03:56pm] |
take me over
and over
and over
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[09 May 2006|08:02pm] |
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tell me something, anything.
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[08 May 2006|04:30pm] |
But in the love poetry of every age,
the woman longs to be weighed down by the man's body.
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[07 May 2006|10:13pm] |
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Eat it so that the point of the hook goes into your heart and kills you, he thought. Come up easy and let me put the harpoon into you. All right. Are you ready? Have you been long enough at table?
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[06 May 2006|06:07pm] |
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daft punk will never fail me. i love all the people in my life.
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[04 May 2006|05:00pm] |
Like this together, adrienne rich
1.
wind rocks the car.
we sit parked by the river,
silence between our teeth.
birds scatter across islands
of broken ice. another time
i'd have said, "canadian geese,"
knowing you love them.
a year, ten years from now
i'll remember this---
this sitting like drugged birds
in a glass case---
not why, only that we
were here like this together.
2.
they're tearing down, tearing up
this city, block by block.
rooms cut in half
hang like flayed carcasses,
their old roses in rags,
famous streets have forgotten
where they were going. only
a fact could be so dreamlike.
they're tearing down the houses
we met and lived in,
soon our two bodies will be all
left standing from that era.
3.
we have, as they say,
certain things in common.
i mean: a view
from a bathroom window
over slate to stiff pigeons
huddled every morning; the way
water tastes from our tap,
which you marvel at, letting
it splash into the glass.
because of you i notice
the taste of water,
a luxury i might
otherwise have missed.
4.
our words misunderstand us.
sometimes at night
you are my mother:
old detailed griefs
twitch at my dreams, and i
crawl against you, fighting
for shelter, making you
my cave. sometimes
you're the wave of birth
that drowns me in my first
nightmare. i suck the air.
miscarried knowledge twists us
like hot sheets thrown askew.
5.
dead winter doesn't die,
it wears away, a piece of carrion
picked clean at last,
rained away or burnt dry.
our desiring does this,
make no mistake, i'm speaking
of fact: through mere indifference
we could prevent it.
only our fierce attention
gets hyacinths out of those
hard cerebral lumps,
unwraps the wet buds down
the whole length of a stem.
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[04 May 2006|04:42pm] |
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imu.
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[30 Apr 2006|07:21pm] |
i am free.
monday - hangouts w/ matthew & patrick
thursday - oc night/dinner and shopping date w/ alex & joe bou
friday - mattrick bash?, dave is home!
saturday - piglet w/ celia & tyler
what an incredible week.
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| best paper ever |
[30 Apr 2006|11:53am] |
Blindness
In Blindness, the internees lives are completely uprooted when they become victims of an obscure and unidentifiable disease, landing them in quarantine. Here, they must face perils of not only the body, but the mind and heart. What must occur for one to regain control of their freedom after it’s been taken away? Jose Saramago demonstrates the need for human submission and rebellion in times of chaos in order to maintain a functioning environment and to prevail once again.
A parallel can be drawn between the ward in which The Blind reside and a second or third world country on the brim of a political and social revolution. Our inhabitants are stricken with a disease which cripples their potential prosperous nature as a society. They are abandoned by their government and left with meager conditions to live in. They are displaced and must depend on rationed means to survive. These reasons are why the people of the ward became vulnerable to oppression.
The oppressors, The Thugs, entered the institution establishing power and forcing The Blind to renounce whatever system of leadership they had cultivated. “...Let it be known...that from today onwards we shall take charge of the food...we shall put guards at the entrance, and anyone who tries to go against these orders will suffer the consequences.” [139] Again, on page 140, The Thugs assert their power by collecting the wardens’ valuables in exchange for food. “First you pay, then you eat.” Here, the internees realize there is nothing else to be done but become subject to The Thugs, for they are now their source of food. “From what we’ve heard, I don’t believe that for the moment we can do anything other than obey...worst of all, they have weapons.” [140] However, by handing over their personal belongings, The Blind gave away the last bit of freedom they had left.
Another instance of obedience for survival occurs when The Thugs request women. “The blind hoodlums sent a message saying they wanted women. Just like that, Bring us women.” [166] With no other source of food, the women comply. “Here...was a woman already in her fifties who had her old mother with her and no other means of providing her with food. I’ll go, she said.” [169] Though the situation has become increasingly grave, the women do not give up. They are hopeful for the future, despite the terrible situation that is currently taking place. This shows how far an individual will go to stay alive, and the sacrifices they will make to provide for those around them.
Finally, when The Thugs’ power has become too degrading and overbearing, the doctor’s wife takes matters into her own hands. She has decided to kill the leader of The Thugs. “...She brought her arm down with tremendous force. The scissors dug deep into the blind man’s throat.” [189] As a result of the murder, there is a power shift. Without a central leader, the remaining Thugs are now on the same level as the other blind internees. But, because the doctor’s wife has taken such a drastic step towards rebellion, she is seen as a threat. “Yes, I killed him, why, someone had to do it...And now, we’re free, they know what awaits them if they ever try to abuse us again.” [193] The doctor’s wife knew without action there would not be change or progression. Though the situation was dangerous, a risk needed to be taken so that control could be in the hands of The Blind once again.
It would be impossible to name an exact moment when the human spirit feels it must triumph over whatever evils it has become victim to. Nevertheless, The Blind, and the doctor’s wife especially, knew that they would not give up their lives to a dictator, being both Blindness and The Thugs. What The Blind endured and what they did to rise up, proves that one will surfer the most terrible of situations, even when life is not guaranteed, and that our desire to live will always overcome. “Find out just what a people will submit to, and you have found out the exact amount of injustice and wrong which will be imposed upon them; and these will continue till they are resisted with either words or blows, or with both. The limits of tyrants are prescribed by the endurance of those whom they oppress.” - Frederick Douglass.
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| slowreader |
[29 Apr 2006|06:31pm] |
you like me when i'm not waiting for you
but i like you most all the time
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[26 Apr 2006|10:51pm] |
my counselor asked me, michelle, what are you motivated about? what are you enthusiastic about? because it sure isn't school, according to your grades. what are you interested in? and i didn't have an answer. i didn't have an answer and it scared me. it was such a simple question but caught me completely off guard. i told him how i don't think i know, yet. i've tried out so many things, but have just gotten bored at them, i don't know yet, and i'm hoping this summer and college will answer that question. so many times i've thought what if i don't like what i'm going to go to school for? what then? because i don't have a plan if that happens. what if in two years i don't want to go to california anymore? what if levi's doesn't hire me? what if i don't move out? it's hard for me to be motivated because i always think about ways around things. well if i don't go to columbia, it's ok, there's community college. if i fail this class, it's ok, it's only an elective, there's always summer school. but when it comes down to it, two f's and a d are not acceptable, no matter what excuse i can come up with. the reason being i'm better than that. i can say i've always been mediocre, i can say i have no drive, no motivation, that my parents never instilled it in me, but it should come from myself anyhow. i keep saying, living on my own will make me get my shit together, but i want to know that i can do that without any outside forces or influences. i need to stop procrastinating and just fucking do. i need to prove to myself that i have something inside of value, no matter what anyone already believes.
my mother goes, michelle, you are so young still, you have your whole life to do whatever you want. don't worry about this now, shh, everything with time.
aside, without randi, liz, and paulina i think i would've had several mental breakdowns by now. no one has better friends than me. (& i miss fabrice and celia and lake forest summers so god damn much).
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[26 Apr 2006|12:26pm] |
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day 6 of 2nd grounding of the year. i'm stagnant, it feels like shit.
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[24 Apr 2006|08:37pm] |
we have begun our transformation from
pobrecitas to queens of la cita
the men, like earth worms, our kings,
rise from the ground for us, the soles of
our feet their sky
they forever come with crowns whose
thorns have already spread battle
fields on our flesh, our men claiming the
victories of our wreckage
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