I may be mistaken

but I believe some of these are on the path of our road trip

The making of mountains

je t'adore je t'adore je t'adore
turn yourself
off eat a biscuit

when you speak
in a presumptuous way
how can I take it so
menage a trois and beaten
to blood and pulp

beaten till rock hard
beaten to peaks

from a file labeled "random shit"

Mystic Pines

for C-----

That these places become parts

of us and tremble without us

is halfway correct. You

became a part of many

poems. You will not miss

me. It’s only people missing, so

we say and so we number.

Don’t mistake this with

remember. We miss, we

reminisce, we can’t take

pictures with our eyes or

stabilize our thoughts. They change

their shape and tone with a new

emotion, the absence of a first.

fun facts:

A few aspirin tablets should be powdered finely and made in the form of paste with water, then they are applied over the face, neck, upper back/chest (wherever required) as mask. They can be kept for 10-15 minutes and be washed with warm water.


For face wash, a few aspirin tablets can be powdered coarsely and mixed with required amount of water (like a scrub) to wash the face.

Again the adverse effects should be watched carefully.

Almost everything else can be carried.

Writing is a disembodied act.
We need:
Two cans of coconut milk - 1 lite or light; 1 regular

To make a vegan cookie dough

And/or:
Almonds/Chocolate Chunks/Ricemallow Cream



Happy Birthday to Jessica, Happy California
to most of the rest of us. All I am is caffeinated. All I am is unsure
of what's next. What do you suggest I get,
some sort of certificate? A real job? A life?

I know what it's like to have thoughts in boxes and send them on and look back later.
My clothes I should fold into boxes. My pans. My ladle.

I might, I don't know, Cry at work

or something. It's been done. It's been done.
How many ways can I tell you I love you and mean it? Why isn't everything
being enough?
I look at the hour-by-hour forecast and mean it.
I rearrange my Facebook friends in Chat. Create categories.
Categorize, if you will.
And still there's a teeming a swelling a something like what in the hell did I get myself into?
In life. In life. In doing what I am and studying what I did and being this version of me.

I can't tell you to mean things anymore and I have no incentive to get rid of the "I,"
am startled by honking. It's violent.
Please. Knock on the door. Or call hir.
We all have cell phones these days, or don't we?

There's always this desire in me to get on here, record some urge, post it where it can be seen but isn't up for a direct response. What is it, what is behind it? There's no necessity. What is emotion? There are so many things I don't understand because I get, maybe, part of the picture.
I get what is felt, what is feeling?












It's just
it is difficult to know what any person wants from you at any one time.
I am terrified of disappointing all of you.

It is okay

to say too much. I was too tired/drunk the other night. Tired is hard to get rid of unless there is time. I always wake up then finally rested and embarrassed of what I'd been too tired to hold back, what I've thought of those I'd been too tired to handle at the time. Maybe I don't want to dye my hair. I can't decide. I just know I can't throw anything away because I'll end up wearing it. Must simply continually add and combine and never wear the same thing twice in the same way. That's okay too. There is too much repetition already in my food consumption.
La.
I got my schedule completely wrong and now instead of working 5 hours at 8.50 an hour, I'm working an extra 4 hours at 6 an hour.

and I think I also dreamt about running. Bugs.
Murdering, as a man, this woman kissing me with peanut butter lips.
They tasted that way. Maybe she just got sick. And she was jealous of the other woman I also played (if you think of dreams as a play). A jump down each level of bloody corpse and then it flashed back to that hotel night. Some sort of after-prom. I had also been fired in the slightly more realistic portion of the dream. "You do such a great job for us; unfortunately we can't stand to have you around anymore," was the email.

Oh last night was so fun. And it's so beautiful now! (Outside) Bella's in the window chasing bugs and sometimes falling. I'm not sure whether they're in or outside. I didn't know if I wanted to take the class. I want to do nothing when I'm tired.

*Identity Crisis*

It's gonna be okay it's gonna be okay it's gonna be okay it's
gonna be okay (etc etc)