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?”
great expectations/it was the best of times/it was the worst of times/things dads say in movies
She knows that once she goes upstairs she’ll confirm that the lonliness is there, and the check will be done. She’ll then return to her room to check that all of her secrets are in place. She’ll do none of this and wish she could remember the real reason she wanted to go upstairs. You see it was many years ago that she took “none steps,” as they called it, and “forgot.”
Lights. Camera. Action.
There is no time to remember why I should not indulge. There is only the interruption or natural flow of life. She sat there thinking about how she didn’t want to end up like Virginia Woolf, heard a noise she knew was nothing, but used it as an excuse to go about her comforting checks anyway.
There was this intense feeling that she’d forgotten something, and she had. That’s how she dealt with it, and she didn’t care if her words sounded pretty. When she was a little girl she had once said after having being questioned, “I took none steps and I forgot,” and instead of dealing with life, she just felt the intense guilt and fear that a child feels at having done something wrong, something small, something like forgetting that a child is permitted to do and still be loved for. Some called her an angel, some the devil, and she is confused as to which things are reserved for writing at this point in her life.
I do not like this intense pressure I feel at having forgotten something, and I do not want to forget how to get rid of it, or what it really means, for I am not a witch but a woman. In this moment, there is literally not a thing in the world that I need to remember. Having unlocked something within her she laughed to herself and said “blessed be,” and deep down a terror loomed, and even deeper still, something else that she couldn’t quite detect, but she enjoyed the way “still” sounded and went with that. “Writing has changed since that day I forgot,” she thought to herself and sort of understood some things about herself that there simply were no words for at this time.
So you’re up all night cause you slept all day and you feel super guilty. It’s going to be okay. It’s not your fault. I like to make the most of nights like these. Where’s your magic?
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.
I think that when we sit for long periods, our bodies naturally tense because our bodies want to burn calories. We’ve all heard it. We’re not supposed to be in desk position. Our bodies are meant to be used.
If you’re not Kate Moss and can have as much amazing sex as you want, then you might be working at a desk all day, and that doesn’t mean you can’t have a life as awesome as Kate Moss’s. I just noticed how I tend to tense my muscles when I’m sitting for long periods. I remember how I noticed that about myself in 9th grade Biology as well. I would just sit there, clenching my muscles. I really hate modernity and sitting all day, but I guess I’m thankful for computers because I am sick and it gives me hope that I could work from home.
So if you’re reading this and you’ve been at your computer for a while, fuck your boss or your own hard-work-complex, get the fuck up and stretch. I swear it’ll only be like five seconds of your life…
I feel like I’m trying to unite everyone. I can’t. A voice inside me tells me I can. I don’t know why I can’t let this one go. I think it’s a talent of mine, and maybe I’ll lay it to rest so I can unite myself, and I know myself; if something ever comes up- I’m no longer sure if I can be there for others the way I once was. I don’t even know what it truly means to be an empath, why anyone ever told me I was, but if I am then maybe I should take the time to look at it and look at my own health. Maybe people like me need time away from other humans. It’s like that episode of Charmed when Prue receives the empath “gift” and she totally freaks out. That’s how I’m feeling.
I can’t think of any other logical explanations because I love people, am a people person, and thrive… well I’m a people pleaser, or atleast I used to be… Maybe I’m just growing up. Maybe I don’t want to be an empath anymore. Why do people brandy it about like its something to be happy about? It’s not. It’s scary. It’s terrifying. It makes me feel not in control. Everyone else comes first and now I have no clue who I am… atleast that’s how it feels sometimes, and I kind of… made a face at that because it’s not true that I have no clue who I am.
The whole world is fucked and guess what? I have above average intelligence, and… I just feel like a baller sometimes. I feel invincible sometimes, not really invincible cause I know I can’t literally can’t do “anything,” but I can do anything I want it seems. I am unphased.
Pascifism pisses me off. I used to self identify that way when I was younger. I mean I don’t mean to start any trouble. I guess thats a very subjugated girl thing to do. And then when you read feminist existentialism you realize what a girl you became, and it pisses you off because you also read “Be Here Now” and you know that human drama is inevitable. Why so badly do I just want peace? It tortures me.
Does it have anything to do with the peace that I’ve actually personally brought to others? People have literally told me that I’ve saved their lives and shit like that. I feel like a relic from the 90s. help.
The 90s comfort me because the nuclear family was being really open about how much it doesn’t make sense. “Broken home” became a household term. It became normal to be broken, and that comforts me.
When I used to do a lot of adderall I was always able to figure everything out about myself really quickly. I haven’t touched the stuff since 2009. It is still such a huge part of who I am and I didn’t even realize how much it affected me. This however, is not the point, as interesting as all the tangents I want to go on here are- the biggest thing I want to say is that it reminds me of those articles I used to read about kids taking acne meds and completely hormonally changing.
Oh how I miss 8th grade health class in this moment. Fuck it. I fucking love stream of consciousness writing and am reminded of how much my teacher was impressed with my project that semester. I as so fucking clever. The simplest things.. that’s the thing about education, and thats why I so resonated with that class at Binghamton “Evolution, Literature, and Cinema.” Everything kind of can be deconstructed…
I think I am desperate to know that I somehow make sense.
just “be” yourself.
heady
we get it. you want to say something big. unafraid.
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.
cozyredrosie 