the plague

I can't write anything. I had an inkling to but my mind gets bogged down with everything I have to do. This summer I'm going to look up like meditative mind detoxes or something, man, I just need a separation of stress and happiness right now. Maybe I need more meditation. I'm making a mental note in my mental to do list that after this post I'm googing it right away.

I think this summer before I'm working with the kids I'm going to wear my sunhat on the bus to work. I sound like I'm crazy, but I love my sunhat and not enough people wear or do what they love anymore. So as I am doing what I love, I would like to be wearing what I love. I want to do that from now on. Why waste my time with things that I don't want to do? I want to plant sunflowers somewhere as well, mental note to ask my mother about that and the publishing contacts she promised...

Also this summer I'm hopefully looking to do another reinvention, Jackie O style, and I'd really like some vogue support but no spring issue to date has been helpful.. There was this green sundress in old navy, it looked perfect. IT'll probably be gone by the next time I go home...

Don't follow me on twitter or tumblr, don't like my facebook posts, I don't care if you do. There's a moment of liberation where you start to live your own life. You tell your parents something they don't want to hear and stick with it. You make a decision that your best friends don't agree with and learn from your mistakes. I've gotten tattoos, gone to school out of town, fallen, gotten back up, and smiled a lot. Wow smiling feels good sometimes. I don't care that I'm chubby, because I'm happy. TGhere's a chocolate eclair in the fridge from dinner and I get to eat it later and I'm not worried because tomorrow I have yoga.

I enjoy yoga, and vogues, and reading poetry, and writing poetry, and writing anything, and watching sex and the city all the time, and staying up late talking, and tzatsiki, and sundresses, and shoes, and art, and reading the newspaper, and any kind of tea, and audrey hepburn, and cosy unmade beds, and warm socks, and laughing until I cry, and posters, and aviators, and puns, and jewelry that means something, and so many more things that I would rather be important to me than anything else.

I'm in my room with my christmas lights on in february, reading a vogue and watching tedtalks and sex and the city eeating chocolate buttons in an unmade bed and cosy socks and my boyfriend's sweater, and I don't care about the work I'm not doing or the people I'm not seeing, the stress in my head or the smile on my face, because in the end I'm going to remember tonight because of the thoughts I had about the good things, and the bad things that were in the shadows of those good things will ultimately fade away.

Why focus on the bad? Why?




in that one intimate moment
with an arm below my breast and ten seconds
before I turned over again,
me, the restless sleeper,
and him -- the hibernation wreaked from his soft snores,
or his messy hair, those sleepy eyes,
his heartbeat his breathing slow
and yet mine pounded away my breathing normal, not sleeping,
not even awake to enjoy it just to feel the pressure
the warmth of his body against me,
and the cold air away,
the intimately designed entanglement of feet
or arms but not really, I don't sleep then,
I turn over then, turn turn turn,
turn and wheeze, but not the gray ones,
not the ones that hurt,
but the ones I feel when and how
he pushes against me,
he crushes me under his affections,
and I turn again, turn over again
indecsive amongst the dark night sounds,
the heartbeat, the hair from his head against my shoulder,
pet peeving my way down to his pushing me off
and out of the bed, my bed of course,
two pillows sir we need two two for us,
and i feel it, eventually,
by then there's no touching but the planks of our feet,
our shoulder blades, back to back
we sleep,
finally, I do sleep, eventually, amongst us,
amongst the warmth but just enough
so that no more heaving or headaches,
but waking up to some sleepy eyes
and tousled but loved
--well, just waking, finally