10 November 2001

It's funny how a couple of hours in at 80's night can make your whole week.

I know, it's been a couple of days, espeically after so many posts the past couple of days. It's weird how erratic things become when you're getting back in the swing of feeling normal again after a bad week and a half. You start getting into somewhat of a routine, even if it's not going to last very long, but the feeling of stability feels safe for a little bit.

I'm probably going to get bored soon.

But not for at least another couple of weeks. This weekend is Mikey's 21st-- starting at midnight tonight. Then I've got a show on the 17th, another on the 18th, and then it's down to San Diego for a couple of days and two more shows, on the 20th, and then maybe one on the 21st, and, oh yeah, one on the 23rd. I'm gonna be busy.

Plus yesterday brought the new Matthew Good Band CD. That's a review for next week, since I did Hemlock yesterday.

I'm just ready to get out of town. Yeah baby. Tori. Twice. On one night. And then Brandon Boyd three days later. It's gonna be a good week.

.the girl who is not very 12:18 PM [+].

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08 November 2001

Strangely enough today, in running errands and buying Mikey an early birthday lunch (big two-one in three days), I find that I still have this silly grin on my face. I feel good today feeding Dad and hanging out.

Right now I'm just really tired.

I'm finding that my disc du jour, though not the best record in the world, is the new Incubus record, Morning View.

The songs are speaking to me right now, especially "Circles," "Nice to Know You," and this one, "Blood on the Ground," from this site.

Blood on the Ground
I don't wanna talk to you anymore
I'm afraid of what I might say
I bite my tongue every time you come around
Cause blood in my mouth beats blood off the ground

Hand over my heart I swear,
I've tried everything I could within all my power
2 weeks and 1 hour
I slaved and now I've got nothing to show
Oh if only you've grown taller than a brick wall
From now on
Gonna start holding my breath
When you
Come around and you flex that fake grin
Cause something inside me has said more than twice
That breathing this air
Beats breathing you at all

I don't wanna talk to you anymore
I'm afraid of what I might say
I bite my tongue every time you come around
Cause blood in my mouth beats blood off the ground

Hand over my mouth
I'm earning the right to my silence
In quiet discerning between ego and timing
Good judgment is once again proving to me
That it's still worth its weight in gold
From now on I'm gonna be so much more weary
When you start to speak and my warm blood starts to boil
Seeing you is like pulling teeth
And hearing your voice is like chewing tin foil

I don't wanna talk to you anymore
I'm afraid of what I might say
I bite my tongue every time you come around
Cause blood in my mouth beats blood off the ground

I'm fast to a better judgment
By saying less today
I will gain more, gain more
No tears to you my, my fickle friend
Youououou you brought the art of silent war

I don't wanna talk to you anymore
I'm afraid of what I might say
I bite my tongue every time you come around
Cause blood in my mouth beats blood off the ground

I'm heading to bed early this evening.

.the girl who is not very 10:19 PM [+].

Yeah.

You're finally at your best after relaxing and catching your breath for a moment. Now that you're well-rested, it's time to do some of the things you've been putting off lately. Make a sudden appearance to surprise someone from your past. No matter how many new people you meet, don't forget that old friendships are the glue that holds the relationship cycle together. Keep in mind that a present doesn't have to cost much as long as it comes from the heart.

.the girl who is not very 5:12 AM [+].

I just got some sleep. And got up. And I feel like posting.

I send poems, and people freak. I'm not surprised.

You're gone. Goodbye. Erased off my phone. I'm tired. You're not worth my time if you're going to trip like that. I don't have time to put up with your shit if you're suddenly going to be the boy you claim you're not. Don't fuck with me like that. I won't stand for it.

You had time before, you have time now. I don't want to fucking build myself up for things only to be (suddenly) treated like shit. If you don't like me anymore, just tell me. Don't play.

It's so strange how things can change so quickly. Just a matter of days, and you find out how people really are. It's disappointing. And lonely.

And it just goes to prove my reasons why I have my walls up. I shouldn't ever really give a shit about a boy, not even in the slightest. They all turn out the same in the end anyway.

And you even had potential. A lot of it. Goodnight.

.the girl who is not very 5:04 AM [+].

I'm going to go kiss my father goodnight.

And tomorrow I'm going to wake up and feel better.

.the girl who is not very 12:05 AM [+].

Okay. This is fucked up.

Ah, but can you prove it? There's an awful lot of assumption and presumption taking place at the moment. Some conclusions have been reached in a most unscientific way. They are now being treated as if they were unimpeachable assertions of the highest truth. You have your doubts - but nobody else seems very interested. Some people indeed, seem to be doubting you just for having those misgivings. Don't bother trying to fight an endless, thankless battle. Just wait till a certain someone hoists themselves from their own petard!

I had to look that last word up, unfortunately.

petard:
1 : a case containing an explosive to break down a door or gate or breach a wall
2 : a firework that explodes with a loud report

.the girl who is not very 12:00 AM [+].

---

07 November 2001

Have you ever had someone just start acting completely different all of a sudden? Yeah. Raise your hand. You've been there. Has it been someone you really dig and want to have around for a while? Oh, not as many hands this time.

Why can't I keep boys around? Why do I freak them out so fucking much? I'm. Just. A. Fucking. Girl. I like to know someone actually thinks about me sometimes, and not in a stalker kind of way. I don't stalk boys. I don't even really get all that distraught over them unless I know I'm gonna fall hard which has only happened once so far in my life. (Almost twice, but that's another kettle of fish I don't want to dive into right now.)

No callbacks. No acknowledgement. If you're reading this right now, do you realize how that just adds to my landslide of bad right now? You're the one person I ask for to Whoever's Up There to be stable in my life, and you decide to freak out now. You have bad timing.

Not that I have really room to say it's not fair. But I have one bad night. One really bad night, and all of a sudden it makes you scared of me. Ask anyone, even people who are aquaintances, and they'll all tell you I'm the most stable person in the world. That probably doesn't really make a difference if I say that myself. 'Course, you said it to me once. It's like I can't have a bad day. One. Bad. Day. The smile I have when I see you is true. So fucking true you probably don't even see it.

It's bad enough my brother is my travel agent for Guilt Trips right now. It's even worse that I have to sit at home and basically watch my father on a rollercoaster of dying. I'm trying to keep things in perspective, and it's really difficult, and all I ask is that you be here, and sing me a couple of songs, and tell me why all of a sudden I'm a nobody today. Everyone else seems to think I'm a nobody right now, so I might as well get an explanation somewhere.

There is no explanation. I'm a heartless bitch, because nobody will ever read this, because this is what I'm feeling. Really fucking alone. And cold.

I really wanted us to really last. I was ready to be in it for the long hawl. I guess that doesn't really matter after one night. One night doesn't make it forever.

.the girl who is not very 11:34 PM [+].

This was finished a couple of days ago. I want to post this first, then vent.

This is True
My favorite memory
used to be New Year's
when I sat on my roof
and watched the fireworks
with all my friends.

Now it's a pint, and friends,
and your voice on the end of the line,
singing a song,
and even if they're throw-away notes
they make me drunker
than the pint,
than the smile spread all over me.

Time over the line
scattering the rats in your brain,
and you made my year
past meeting famous people
who lived past my expectations,
past finding new friends
and appreciating old ones
as every year does to you,

as every year makes hugs
longer, kisses more constant,
surprise smiles in little gifts
like a voice over the phone
at one in the morning
singing a smile out of me.

I deserve this!

Even the nights we don't talk much
I get butterflies, you know.

At night, you say the things
I want to say
before I can get a word in edgewise.
So I stay quiet
and waiting
for that one second of silence
when I can speak to your eyes
in a clearer tone
than broken up phones.

I want to keep this,
pack-rat it away somewhere
where I can see it
and show it to you,
and make smiles like making kisses.

That was awesome, I said,
and I really wanted to tell you that
with a kiss,
and even though that won't do it justice,
keeping it close just might.

And maybe you think
that it's just some dumb thing,
but it's not.
Maybe it's just another starry night
painted over a hurricane,
you're in the center
with a song,
serenading the rats.

And even if you didn't see my smile
I want you to know
it'll always be there
even you don't think you won't.

Here's the thing:
memory's the greatest gift,
past whatever Death or Heartbreak brings.

They're all put away
for me to pull out
and appreciate now and then,
like watching fireworks
or hearing you sing to me
whenever I want to.

.the girl who is not very 11:10 PM [+].

The poem last night didn't seem to want to be published, so it had to wait until this morning. Loverly.

Deadline last night was a little frantic. Just a little. No, really. It was minor, you know, comparatively, to other things that could be happening.

At least I got a good little chunk of Anne Rice in last night at the Roma.

.the girl who is not very 11:16 AM [+].

---

06 November 2001

This one's really fresh.

pieces
don't be afraid
I'm just not who I seem to be
at any time
there's a guy in his car
in the parking lot
eating donuts
and a guy next to me
who I don't know
with a guitar
serenading his demons
and I'm writing this
as close to myself as possible
thinking the worst
'cause if I didn't
I wouldn't want to see you
so badly right now
and not be caught
jaywalking a one-way street
with a coffee in one hand
and poems about you
written on the back of gas receipts
in the other
and I hope you're thinking of me
I'm hoping you won't be sacred of me
I'm hoping for the best case scenario
where I actually want to see you
and not wonder about the you-shaped feeling
in my head when you aren't there
I don't want to think this is just
nothing
'cause it doesn't feel
like donut holes
or incomplete ditties
all the scrappy poems are for me
reminding myself
of the pictures I never took
and you are more than a snapshot

where are you?

singing a song to the stars somewhere
the parts of yourself in retrograde
and nobody likes just parts
they want the whole universe
wrapped up in a bow
and it's not that easy to catch
it's not that easy to bullseye exactly
who you are
or if they've really seen it all
it's all just
voids
and pieces
and pretty noise
that ends all the fear.

.the girl who is not very 11:07 PM [+].

Erg. I started to lose it today. In fact, I lost it altogether here at home. Then I sat with Dad all day watching TV.

It's a very awful thing to say, but I just kept thinking really awful thoughts. I just want all of this to go away and I really hate that it's all in my face and I can't do anything about it. It's like I have to put myself on hold for all of this. I shouldn't have to. Call me fucking cynical or selfish or whatever. If I'm supposed to be living as an adult that means that I take responsibilty for myself. I shouldn't have to be taking responsibility for someone else.

God that sounds idiotic. But I wouldn't be thinking it or writing it if someone inside me didn't believe it.

.the girl who is not very 6:36 PM [+].

I hate it when people give you out-of-service numbers and you have a deadline.

.the girl who is not very 1:11 PM [+].

Dammit, 0catch's servers are being spoggly right now. They do that about once a month, scare the hell out of me, and then 2 minutes later they're back to normal.

I just really need to get to bed. And hopefully not dream about awesome people anymore.

.the girl who is not very 1:47 AM [+].

Um. So. I did my article. 200 words seems like it would be easier to break up and do in two sessions, but I'm so used to doing it on a weekly basis with reviews anyway I figure I might as well just let it flow sweet from the wineskin.

Plus I just feel like I'm the shit when I get things done early and quickly and it looks okay. I still sometimes feel like I write things so quickly and it's crappy and my editor's gonna write me with that look on his face that says, what the fuck are you doing? I haven't gotten anything like that, really, though I have gone through a couple of really major edits in the 9+ months I've been writing there.

I might as well enjoy it while I can, because I might not feel this sweet tomorrow if I can't get a hold of anybody. And it's already Tuesday, so I have to think about what I'm going to write in that Hemlock review of the CD. We'll see. A real deadline looms.

.the girl who is not very 1:43 AM [+].

Okay, so by special request, I have to post this link.

You're welcome, Hammie.

.the girl who is not very 12:55 AM [+].

So.

Jamming went lovely. Lots of sweat. Feel so much better. You don't even know right now. That and clarifying a few things for someone, too. Although I still kinda have this feeling that I'm almost being avoided. Maybe. But I said something I meant tonight. I'm hoping it really makes a difference.

I'm trying to understand why people think I stay angry. They think I'm going to bite their head off. I may have a short temper, but I don't usually stay irate for more than a day. And it's hard to convince them otherwise. I'm going to be okay. Really. I just need some time to rage against myself. Or something.

This too.

A change is at least as good as a rest. If you happen to be an actor - you will never want to be resting. Likewise, if you are a criminal, you will invariably prefer a change to arrest. A lot of course, depends on whether the change is for the better - though it is difficult to quantify change in such terms. Change which at first seems unwelcome can eventually begin to seem like something to feel grateful for. Let much more time pass before complaining about what's currently changing for you. Tell your worries to take a rest!

And now I have an article to start before bed about the Hemlock show. Plus calling people about another possible article before deadline tomorrow. Yay.

.the girl who is not very 12:39 AM [+].

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05 November 2001

I had another dizzy flash while Sean and I were helping to feed Dad earlier today. Just seeing Dad's tube snaking out of his stomach, and pouring in the liquid stuff for his food. I had to stop and look around at what was going on and breathe for a minute. Then they made me change Dad's bedclothes, so that diverted me for a little bit.

I don't like being around it all. I keep getting reminded about cancer and what it's doing to my Dad. He's deteriorating. We're trying to feed him as much as we can right now, and he's still in a lot of pain. I hate it. It started to make me feel sick. It's all in my face. I have to come here and get that out of me.

And we're supposed to be jamming tonight, but I'm not getting my hopes up for that.

.the girl who is not very 4:36 PM [+].

A new experiment.

It's a work in progress. I'm crossing my fingers.

.the girl who is not very 12:16 AM [+].

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04 November 2001

Ye Olde Head hasn't been all that good the past couple of days. Maybe it's a post-menstrual thing. Maybe not. I don't really know. Sleep is good.

I'll just leave it at that.

.the girl who is not very 10:28 PM [+].

Blathering about is good.

This one's not titled. Yet.

pictures on the wall
and your number's somewhere
written on the back
of an old flyer,
some band long gone
from street deals
and stolen equipment.
the photos don't mean anything
these days,
just a glimpse
to remind me of what I miss
and what I'll never capture.
falling away
are the expectations
I brought to you--
now they're just offerings
that don't mean what they used to,
different rules
on different pedestals.
this we is not the same,
not like paper cut-outs of dolls
and droll conversation.
this time it's the wanting,
the waiting,
surprise Brownie Points
scored on every corner.
we meet on streets
going anywhere,
and the undefined is just fucking sublime.
our long walks
are red lights
skipping to our favorite record tracks,
making new friends
in familiar songs,
and turning off the lights
is just another way
to know we're really alone
together,
and you smile,
and I smile,
and it's more than just a picture,
a memory,
some heart-shaped strum
left behind on purpose
next to my bed.
it's all part of this thing--
the bored phone calls,
touching knees under the table,
my butterflies,
every time,
when you're there,
because I'm there
even though it's vice versa,
this sharing of old tales
under ceiling fans
and starry skies.
sing me your favorite song, love,
it'll make a picture in far more detail
in the room you and I occupy
in my head,
so warm
and soft
and filled with memories.

.the girl who is not very 10:20 PM [+].

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