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do you remember my frog heart? |
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Tuesday, June 29, 2004 ( 10:46:00 PM ) elle's kevin asks. why dont i blog these days? dont feel like saying things, but i'll do it now. face value, because the thinking too much is what makes you miserable. i think. i peaked at the wrong time, the best run ive had on the tram in recent was last week, on the sji tram that i hate, the one that spins me out of control. legs are the overcooked spaghetti i had for lunch, this is the last time we will do ten rounds of frog jumps ever again. it's like not bathing for days in obs, something you'll never do voluntarily, but something that's ultimately part of a bigger and personally in every way worth it. a once-in-a-lifetime sensation, the things that mould you and shape your experience separate from that of someone else's. things that you do when you are young. i think it's worth it, because i want to fly. but other than that. we climbed a wall today. we're sideways-spidermen. i bought. sylvia plath's poems, j.d salinger, the unbearable lightness of being. open hearts, dogma95 film (no festen?)i liked the sound of things, the two in special, the what is real that you feel feeling i get from them both. what you love most about it: he's a boy, you're a girl. somehow you work it out to sound like that means you belong together. i understand you, and i dont. falling in love is the alien cliche i refuse to acknowledge any more. new tao, great tao, control and focus and alone on the trampoline. i am no where near where i want to be, but it is a liberation being up there, free, enjoyable, exhilirating. that's the only reason training is not a chore. training tomorrow, tell me how i might fly? no such thing as high enough. you remind me so nicely . Friday, June 25, 2004 ( 10:38:00 PM ) elle's im done with thinking the better of you. with making excuses for you in my mind, with trying ever so desperately to remember your intelligence at times like these. im done with your primadonna ways, with your total lack of morals and ethics, with you complete disregard for the most basic of respect that you go beyond demanding. im done with trying to disperse my disgust with you, about everything i can think of, about you. why should you be getting away with it all the time? why the hell are you so freaking disgusting? its fuck despicable, ive been swearing at you all evening in my mind and when i try to come up with good memories i have had about you, i can draw nothing but a blank. why are you so freaking idiotic, delusioned, mindlessly conforming? why the hell do you stand for nothing, how can you live like that? being a dumbass would be a lesser of a crime if it werent for your freaking attitude about everything, your self-righteousness about your arrogance. and i hate the way you preen, and the extent of your self-assuredness.im done on and it's been decided, for me to not care about you, for you to just fuck all. and whatever your shit i cant wait for you to get out of it or out of my life. im venting, im steaming, what fucks the most is even after how they cry and scream and lose their sleep for you, you dont change a bit. i HATE thinking about you, its one of my most wretched topics, i hate the way you drive me up the wall and how pressing it is on me, how real and how ever present. and fuck this is all the credit im going to give you, now im going back to my bailey's irish. you remind me so nicely . Tuesday, June 22, 2004 ( 8:33:00 PM ) elle's im wanting to shift again. uproot myself. quiz quiz quiz. 1 part anger 1 part courage 5 parts empathy. blend at low speed, sprinkle with sadness. some times i want to say: do you want to believe what you hear. madison avenue, mighty attractive. and that's just about as much thinking as i want to do, right now. i want a cocktail, the banana one, with five different flavours. was it more. or maybe whatever. a tubful of bailey's irish. and my hair's short again, trademark love-it-hate-it kevin. the funniest reaction was kim's, still. hurhur. i cant imagine school starting, or i can. i cant imagine how competition is going to feel like, and even more: what it is going to feel like after. what being a good sec four is going to feel like. i cant imagine myself, myself in those absurd shoes. hell i cant remember the last time i went out. i think it was newton-ing, with team mates, if that counts. and the gym-t designs. i wish i could draw, i wish i took art. so incredibly jealous. some days. i like dashboard confessionals. every song he sings he sounds so small, so unsure. i hate to say insecure. it makes it sound like i am drawn to that kind of person, and im not. or i am, really. what i said the last time, i am confident, but i am not secure, there's a difference. believe me? i'll do it, i think. veg out, watch a video. never mind the time. on days where my routines are just one failure after another, i think about how fuck im not gonna let the tram beat me. tomorrow. you remind me so nicely . ( 1:23:00 AM ) elle's hey. i wish id met you now, or at least after those times. after i was done being screwed up, after i started learning what it is to be a real friend. the normalcy is hard for me. clearing the computer. came acros a picture of lilo, from lilo and stitch, laughing. mouth stretched open in a watermelon grin. titled duneveropentilyoursad. and i just thought. fucking sweet. then i cry, not over you. about me. and how stupid i am. you remind me so nicely . Monday, June 21, 2004 ( 10:37:00 PM ) elle's we're all going crazy, i cant help you. tell me. when i talked to him today the first thing i thought was that he was insecure, the way he rambles, halfheartedly, as if he thinks: they cant still be listenign to me do you believe in what you're saying? the little things, we are no where close to epiphany. whats that word he likes. shrapnel. shrapppp-nel. and ive wronged you so bad, im sorry. i dont know how to say it. while i have just frowned upon your lack of resilience, i've completely forgone the million things that are beautiful about you. your quiet sensitivity, your all-accepting friendliness. you know. how you cringe, when you think of how you used to be. like looking at old photos of yourself, wondering what the hell was i thinking? i want to some day be a person that i will be completely comfortable with. you know how, you'd always want to believe that you could justify the things you've done: i was stupid, i was young, i was drunk, i didnt know better. the way i see the desperation in her eyes: there's life after failure, there's life after mistakes. i want to hack off the corners, hack off the old limbs. they trip me up, all too often. talk to me. talk to me talk to me talk to me. i dont want you attention any more, i just want to know. how've you been. kevin says: i didnt say ask to be a princess, but if the crown fits.... reminds him of me. hurhur, whattheshit? why? dont tell me about it, because little things can kill me. i just want to know. when am i going to crash. you remind me so nicely . Saturday, June 19, 2004 ( 12:06:00 AM ) elle's how id like to trash my computer. save the geekspeak, say it with a sledgehammer. fuckyourpopupadsalready, my web browser jams with every five pages. today she said, liberal arts. i roll the words over my tongue, i like them already. you remind me so nicely . Friday, June 18, 2004 ( 1:02:00 AM ) elle's i just want one day. one day so laze around with friends, one day to sit around musing. i love musing, you know that, i dont do that any more. it's just let's get back to work, let's not think too much. i want to be able to let my mind wander halfway around the world and beyond, i want to feel some colour and some texture and some tone. i want to stumble upon words that i never would have thought i knew, i want to take the time to wonder at everything i see. the fascination is the most wonderful feeling, the kind of heady reeling, you think: beautiful, delicious, amazing. and then they fail you, or they disappoint, and it is the simple things: a squeal of glee, a secret smile, feel-good charisma. silent laughter: the belly-aching kind, that rocks you back and forth, over inside jokes. i want to feel free. free and reeling, tumbling over deep blue horizon. lately. things with names have endlessly confused me. words and connotations, i used to be good with words. people used to say that to me, you have a way with words. what they meant, i think i know. im still scathing, im still sarcastic, hopelessly ironic, even if im the only one who gets it at those moments. but i dont write the way i used to, i dont reach out with my senses and caress every thing i can reach. i used to do that, i used to be so free. free like it is, to fall and fall and fall. and i feel spick and span, i dont feel any thing any more. its just lalala-routine. lalala-try-to-study, lalala-training, lalala-light-hearted-foolery-around. lalala-pigout lala-braindead. i tried today. after the fifteen minute walk in the pouring sun i sat in the canteen and realized that i cant remember the last time when i wrote something, something that i liked, something good enough for myself. ive read things that ive written and i cant believe it was ever so natural. oh hell it was, i didnt even know it, didnt even know how smoothly things flowed. but i tried today, i tried to cut the strings of consiousness and let it go all over the page. i wrote about sounds today, scrawled at the back of the text-pad, swerving inky blue. the wind ferocious, otherworldy chimes (the canteen kind), the false clang of the fire alarm bell. all the people people in some kind of other universe: the distance is more than physical. perhaps the closest ive gotten to raw material in the last few weeks. what logic and observation tells me, is that i write the best when im stressed, sick, drunk, asleep. i have to be those things first, and i half-lament over how all things i truly love doing require me to go through some sort of suffering in order to feel good, some kind of jump start new-blooding. closet masochist yet residing. its something else, you see. when the feeling hits you and you can spin it into long, untelling yarn. when i write a lot of the times im not trying to make sense, but it either does, or it does not. you'll read me, or i'll read myself, and i'l never be prolific enough to run for weeks, consistent enough for me to count on anything indefinitely. so maybe what this is, a kind of kick-jump start, revving, warming up. whatever it is i am in no time for, i dont want to lose sight of this, these, easy wavering passions. im not up to a world view, i just want to feel, i want to be sensitive for the in and sensitive for the out. i want to see words in my mind, sharp, acrid pictures with colour and smell and softness and rhyme. living things with eyes and souls and ever-ringing voices. lots of hyperbole tonight, but a sidehand attempt. i think slowly, and then i think never mind. artificiality is faking it, artificiality is striking a pose. i want neither, but full of myself. tossing balls from hand to hand, apprehensive, jocular. old waters, dive in. you remind me so nicely . Monday, June 14, 2004 ( 9:50:00 PM ) elle's like a ramble-radio, and full, full to the brim of it, i can't imagine you any other way. the way the voice changes with you, the way things let slide. meany-poke, we're both better at this than we know. but you're still my top three, and that has to say something. you know that, dont you? how. how i wish i could make it, too bad. oh some days i feel so stupid, i cant help how i let it all get to me. take me away now, i feel little and full of promise, great white hope. more like i am living, staring into the sun, things coursing through my veins. of course i couldnt have been honest to you. there are too many things i had to hold back, so much of context that you're never going to know about. i dont know how to explain, and then im tired to, i couldnt draw you in. you cant become part of some one's life by hearing about it, no more than through tabloids or the tv. he called me one of those people with my head in the clouds, the closet idealist; also the brat, the delusional, the sheltered, the asleep. ho ho ho, says christl. you remind me so nicely . Sunday, June 13, 2004 ( 10:24:00 PM ) elle's i need to start working. every one says things about how you die if you dont start in june. im slow to kick start, i have No Self Control. ive slept all day. it took me an hour of meticulous wrapping. the air is warm and feels like being stifled, but i cant make my self do anything. the flesh is so, so weak. i need to start working. i think about competition more than id like to talk about. i dont feel it but its creeping. there are still a lot of things i want to do. two more productions i want to watch. deadpan othello was two-thirds good, and there are things that stick: a yearning theme, desdemona leaping from chair to chair. my favourite scene is the one where new jealousy dances was it for the first time, the one with porcelain smashing and the restraint and the cut-up trumpet and all things controlled, precise. i wish they bring something we studied. and im reading the Pigoon book. hurhur. i want. perfect condition. scream, ha ha ha. it is like saying the word, in the calmest of voices. sigh. eleanor just go back to sleep. you remind me so nicely . Saturday, June 12, 2004 ( 12:57:00 AM ) elle's scary thought on the way home. many, well nevermind. im displaced. tired of being out of control on the tram. boingboingboing. let's paint a banner, i want a new gym tee. i can't concentrate, i am never stable, because it never lasts, it is never something i can count on, indefinitely. it extends to my routine. one off chord, one lingering thought. i scatter like sand in the wind. boingboingboing. zhang lao shi says things to me some times, i think she's scared i will fail. im scared too. not of failing, because what she said: hao de ye xing, huai de ye xing. il get there. im scared, fundamentally afraid, of not doing a perfect tao for competition, the one run that matters. im scared, well not scared, but the idea of disappointing myself is. something im not going to take well, i think. something i might obsess about. big deal, and not a big deal. once i start, i think things into a whirlpool. im thinking a lot of things now. random one-word articles. like gee, and sheesh, and hur. potter3 was well done, but im not one to rave. let's hear you say something. im tired, there are two weeks left to school, three weeks left to competition, a Lot of work to be done, many performances i want to see. second wind, meaninglessness. i said. that day. i remember feelings, the things that linger. the ones you can't name, they cloud me to listlessness, follow me home. i think about you, more than you know. not for any particular reason, just because of what you represent. how you've grown, from someone i used to never see, to... whatever it is you are now. i can't brand you, i dont want to classify people any more. file them up in my mind, with tabs and labels, colour-coded, number-tagged. every thing is something bigger, something impersonal. i flinch at the notion again, the things they say about me. so any how. yeah im sorry, but im kinda anti-social. im restrained, although i know a lot of people who might never agree with me on that. so any how. i was hoping you'd be different, a little strange, a little bit more interesting. of course im disappointed, my lofty hopes and expectations. crashing down, you'd think id be used to it, learn something new. what is true. progression, improvement. versus the self, the archaic. i think about integrity issues all day. you remind me so nicely . Thursday, June 10, 2004 ( 8:30:00 PM ) elle's i still think about what you said that day. it bothers me because it scared me, the notion of it, at that time. and this whole idea of me being that sort of person. well. there's just so much i cant stand about myself anymore. all my heebiejeebies. but nevermind. today was a good day, i think. i keep thinking about placebo's without you i am nothing. a million garbled sentences follow that, but i think i think too much already. bright please. wishlists pending, it's not me speaking any more. you remind me so nicely . Wednesday, June 09, 2004 ( 7:43:00 PM ) elle's perfunctory. how can i tell you what i am feeling now. i would give you a song, ask you to listen to it, with me. i think you would understand me without my having to say a single thing. like gun-shots, vodka bullets. this is how i want to die: drowned in my bath-tub, floating like a mermaid beneath the surface. pink liquid. when ran my friends down my wrists (once, hard, each) the water was warm, warm like a beam of sunshine, warm like a teacup in the artic cold. and that was how i felt: the only true moment i have experienced, you will never be able to share. not with me, not while. well. i didnt write it down. and now we are cold, totally cold, vacant and ornamentary. drain the tub, fish my body out. you are too late, and i am a million miles away. we are so personal. i think i have your name scratched out on the inside of my selves. the last time i made her laugh, she laughed and laughed and laughed until she cried. and after that we never spoke again. every time there is a new one i want to let myself fantasize. and why get my hopes up. there are no more surprises, i fear. with people, and whenever you are concerned. my old blindness. perfunctory. you remind me so nicely . Tuesday, June 08, 2004 ( 9:21:00 PM ) elle's i feel like i cant ask you to understand me any more. i cant reach you any more. you've gone off, you've been right here. i feel like. we are headed towards different things. different friendships, different people. well hell yeah i miss you, i always miss people after things have gone off. like rockets, to greener galaxies, while i am shackled to a planet heading further and further from the sun. this is what happens, when you convince yourself: nothing matters. dont do it, mary jane. you remind me so nicely . ( 8:58:00 PM ) elle's whoever sang the Love Song. its bass is pounding in my head, that hypnotic and indulgent ramble of chords. try harder, my dove. my fingers itch for new emotion. i'm sorry. i am. i didnt mean it that way, probably neither did you. oh well. i dont want to make a big deal out of... nothing much. we're still both here, we're still going to make it. but i am sorry. she keeps telling me. get started. i am not the one that is not afraid, i want to tell her so. but the moment these words fly from my lips they turn the beat around and stab me in the back. i cant remember. have i ever said anything worth saying? no i dont think so, else i would have remembered. just a thought, a note to self. while these long parenthesis of mindless talking, as if in my sleep, it is just to fill up the time. to myself it is like What The Shit Are You Doing, Woman. how might it sound, if i were trying to read my own mind. whatever it was, we said. get outta here. you remind me so nicely . Thursday, June 03, 2004 ( 7:52:00 PM ) elle's my back somer has started to feel good, good in a way i would not have believed if you had told me a few months ago. gerard scoffs it in my head, easy shit man. snap of your fingers, just like that. i only get it now, i can only start to imagine now how it might be natural. i need to stop being such a bitch. but how, i have a way with words when it comes to things like that. im not intentionally trying to be mean, it's something that i only realize after-noons later. more than anything it makes me feel. futile and insignificant, out of control. i've been told, need to start working and studying and all that o-level-shit-ting, during this four week lapse it is crucial. instead i have new wish-lists and vcds, giggling over late night foreign films with no subtitles that i dont understand. i've thought of a million new ways to waste away this holiday. you remind me so nicely . Tuesday, June 01, 2004 ( 10:33:00 PM ) elle's gab says: catch all the wormies! hurhurhur. you remind me so nicely . ( 9:05:00 PM ) elle's im easy confused, and easy believing. you should know this, whether or not you give a shit. and i know you dont, until it happens i become your inconvenience. there is left Not Much Point, in my trying to burrow through. im sorry, sometimes. for being so scathing, though i still think you deserve it. when i think: i am wasting my time on you, i am blowing the whistle on everyone who has ever wasted their time on me. in some way, i know. that includes you. so i'll show you my self, show me all your scars. training felt bad, and good. in that order. wow have i ever done seven taos consecutive no. going backwards on the trampoline suddenly feels like automatic, which is good, which is bad. i hope, on Day Of Competition, THE day of competition, i feel like this, the way i felt two years back. Wreckless But With Both Hands On The Wheel. farce, let me laugh. while i can. how? when my coach tells it like there is still time for us to make it. i am reading lolita, and hardly understanding a word of it. you know how it goes. you remind me so nicely . |
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