Gisele.
I’m listening to “Breed” and I feel all… and then I hear ‘gisele’ and what “breed” really means, and hasn’t the “art” world come a long way, but still kind of sucks that I know more about the details of celebrealities without truly having been curious about them? I don’t understand fascinations. Isn’t Gisele such an amazon and wouldn’t it be cool if that’s what he meant instead of “she said?”
Euphoria has no words but for me right now it looks something like this. In New York, in the winter, let’s be real, heaters make us happy.
is the title of many poems
and that gives me hope
because I know that there is a lot of recovery potential out there.
I am trying to make a point about womanhood; rebels without a cause tend to have causes.
I am playing games. I chose this photo for a very specific personal reason. I don’t know why things like this give me comfort but they do. A wise woman once said that she enjoyed envisioning the marriage of things rather than the opposition of things. I really dug that.
#tomboy #michellerose #prettynamecomplex #socialexperiment
preparedness i’m focusing on you and I like it.
My poetry has become: feminism trigger girl foreground beach background humanized nature blue like a color and pretty like a girl.
If the beach is where I belong, then of course I’m gonna end up with skin cancer, right?
caffeine is a wonderful social lubricant, in my humble opinion
Studies show simply being around happy people makes you happy, right? I don’t know. I think it’d break my heart to see all those people thinking they were happy at the beach while they were getting skin cancer… or would it? Do I have a way of sabotaging everything? Why am I thankful for it. It’s me. I have a feeling my “thankfulness” for it is adaptive. I’m pretty sure the fact that all I’m doing is “getting fucked up on caffeiene” and watching a movie I’ve avoided for… seven years… seven years… is it no coincidence that all I ever wanted was to be a writer, and I happen to be the perfect little poet? I resent how quaint and cute I am. I prey upon it to become stronger. I really dig the extra “e” I put in caffeine. I hate it without the extra “e.” I think I’ll spell it caffeiene, and only I will ever know the real reason I did that. Is this what it means to be a writer? Gloria Steinem I’d rather be a regular woman like you than be a writer. I know that you are a writer; it’s just that every woman is a writer, and I really think I’d like to leave it at that.
It’s like you’d never understand because I know how it feels to feel like Penny Lane in Almost Famous, and maybe you do and maybe you don’t; I hope you can. There is a certain magic to us girls; resenting the preceding statement, I revert back to a side of me that strives to be solely analytical.
Gravity. Magic. Girls. Is there anything wrong with the preceding three words all in a row like that? I apologize to my loved ones for living as though I’m dying, but something about lighting Grandpa’s Yarzheit candle earlier today helps make that all go away. Gratitude is fucking crazy man.
“Why are you taking love like it’s some kind of blessing?”
mystery man
I feel like I know what James Dean was like. I think most people could imagine. James Dean I thank you for your sexy naivete: focused to the point of destruction<-I heard that somewhere recently and it rings true with you, and me. I did say that I would take Forever27 as a challenge; I didn’t know it would mean so much to me.
ugly girl complex
“This girls got a whacked out ugly girl complex. She’s gorgeous.”
“I think she’s ugly.”
“I think she doesn’t matter.”
“She is something else.”
proud moment
I like the way she doesn’t care what people think of her. For example, her interest in the following photo feels like this moment had been placed, based on where this article began:
I am trying to make a point about womanhood; rebels without a cause tend to have causes.
I’d rather not think about negativity, although I appreciate it as a reminder. To me this photograph is a reminder of the suffering of womanhood; it lays it to rest in just the right way for me. I guess that’s why I love the Britney “Control Freak” shot. I am a control freak, which says a lot about me, and I am a “true artist” which also says a lot about it; it’s pressures that were placed for no reason at all; does everyone feel this? I was feeling peaceful about reality, like about how its all been done so I can chill because life makes sense, and then its like wait a second; I’m living life too, and what have I been working toward…something about human suffering, so its okay to tend to my own.
most image-ey pic of me
If you aren’t “clever” enough to understand me, that’s okay. I’ll do my best. There is a difference in when people use the word “tired” as overdone, or physically tired, and there are a lot of variations of the two. For example something can feel tired, and then all of a sudden have a slight familiar appeal, or someone might feel too tired to engage, but feels they’ve got to keep on keeping on, and so they adjust in their mind the meaning of the word “energy” as well.
Here’s one. I want to get this overwith and its a total microcosmic metaphor to me that I personally don’t give a shit how it comes out, and I need to comment on my elitist snobbery here because that is the cliche of myself that I am fighting. I think. I really don’t know and not knowing is a highly common feeling.
so according to some i “lived out of my car” and I know that I’ve used these words but I don’t feel bad about it or anything, and I feel completely misunderstood, and I very badly don’t want to give a shit, because I think I’m losing the energy to give a shit, oh shit- and now I’m nodding and gaining the energy to feel like myself again. I’m not sure what it is, but it felt good to get it out, and I guess that’s what makes me a hippy who labels herself as a hippy. I want people to know that “it’s okay,” and I don’t know what I mean by that, and all I have to say now is… that “it’s okay” not a bad saying.
Thank you Tracy Chapman for reminding me of myself. A wise woman once told me that you always essentially come back to yourself. I wanted to write about how candles can bring people together. It’s pretty simple. There’s this block of material meant to be burnt down. There’s a means of setting it aflame, like with a match or lighter; things tent to heat up when you’re falling in love and you try to abstain from lighting candles. I wonder if I’ve been lighting so many candles lately, and if it is as trite as that old saying that I was never a fan of, probably due to its negative energy: “the flame died” or whatever.
I’m supposed to be thinking of my grandfather, and actually it works perfectly. I interviewed him once about love and have always remembered his romanticized view of his love affair with my grandmother, “We met in the dark room in our photography class in college. Who knew what would develop?”
I was recently asked to light my grandfather’s Yarz-ite candle and I’m so distant from ritualistic Judaism that I don’t even care to look up how its spelled and have anyone think I’m some sort of super Jew. I guess I resented the pressure of lighting a candle that is in honor of his death, the morning of New Year’s Day, the day he died. Have I become some relic collector of this family? Or maybe its the writing thing, and how I used to be able to stand up there and speak on a loved ones death at a funeral, and then so many happened in such quick succession, and I got softer-hearted, or maybe I stopped trying to make sense out of life.
So growing up- I think realizing the neuroticism of Judaism will help me in the long run, but I want to keep suppressing it for as long as possible; this way the guilt will be a sweeter ride ;)… anyway… SO GROWING UP MY RABBI would be asked a question, and in his answer he’d go talking about so many things, and he’d somehow tie it all together, and people always complimented him for this, or atleast acknowledged the long round about turns. Rabbi Shofar called me a machine gun because I spoke so quickly, but he was there the day I was… oh my god… I think I’m having a self-hating Jew moment. I love it. Being honest. I fit the stereotype in a lot of ways, and its better to just admit to it; I didn’t ever embrace it and think it was “the shit,” but it was just apart of me. At one point I gave pause and realized that I am the way I am because of some kind of… “something” Judaism gave me, and I never really knew how to follow that thought up. I guess now is an appropriate time for a Christianized-American, Catholic-wannabe like myself to thank God? And really mean it, and smile as she does cause she feels hatred toward God just like everyone else, even if she’s uncomfortable with the idea of “God” or discussing it because its such a tired topic. It however, makes sense. So preach. Praise the Lord. Get down… I still believe in rock and roll, and I can still teach you how to dance real slow. Something happened to me the day the music died too ya know, even if I wasn’t there, and it feels even more real to say that while I’m thinking about the 60’s and my grandfather and his children who were hippy babies, and their childrens’ children who were all a product of something truly amazing that happened in the 90’s, and I think that’s my cue to exit. Peace. Namaste. Shalom and departures.
so the whole macha/damsel complex… i meant to say something about it… oh well…
I like to keep things to myself. People in my life have gone through a lot. I like to honor their right to privacy. Just sayin’ and that’s all I’ll say.
cozyredrosie 