| |
| does any one play....
FARMVILLE?!?!?
if so..
add me on fb, and then as a neighbour.
Josie Borgia. :) | |
|
| Blizzard is taking forever to work on the servers today, and I really want to try out the new patch. This is of course, relating to WoW.
I have 3, yes 3 finals tomorrow. I am prepared for every single one. I'm just glad my earliest class is cancelled and that final is monday, so i can at least sleep in. | |
|
| i love drunk free writing... :P
////
part four.
i swore i'd never write a poem about love.
not after you cut yourself in half like a bakers dozen
that doesn't make sense
because you crossed a country for your brother
who didn't amount to what
you were afraid that you weren't.
and when you got back it was all different.
every microscopic segment of your life had been split into threes.
and bees knees
if your grandpa hadn't died
and you lied when you said that you were glad you were home
because the only home youve ever known lives in your stomach
next to the poem about your wife
that you love that you left that you wish could see aurora borealis with her eyes closed
like the last girl you met could
next to the bottle that's now empty like your pockets
if only your dreams could stop being so goddam perfect
next to
life's getting hard because i want it all
all the good
and the god
and the silver gold midnight express main event
of my drunk old self
on this porch
with too many thoughts to write down on this page
before my cigarette goes out. | |
|
| i feel like
a tight rolled cigarette
from all last nights snipes
that i rolled poorly
and am trying to find the smallest ounce of satisfaction from
should i feel that small?
picture after picture
word after word
drink upon drink
i think i'd sink to the bottom if i could
the bottom of the bottle
where it's shallow and i drank the rest
in a pitiful attempt to find God or happiness or love or some other cliche that i'm tired of writing about.
you know?
these cigarettes only taste good when i'm telling the truth
and i swear
if i tell another goddam lie
i'm going to stop smoking
because it's really not worth it.
cigarettes are expensive these days.
and i really want to see G-d in something
and finish my book
and find a happy ending
Someday. | |
|
| two am mornings
shmoo am mornings.
i don't need a fucking alarm clock.
the thing is i'm always too drunk at 11pm.
11:11; if you're into wishes.
it creates too much confusion and pressure to obey a time constraint
that i rarely can find enough faith to believe in.
honest.
this includes the criminal justice system.
i had court today and showed up only a minute early;
because i wanted to stop and pick up a 'monster' (which, i know, are disgusting.),
in order to jazz myself up enough to take on the system.
well,
black ties and dreadlocks don't really mean shit there.
and when your last name starts with a 'w',
you basically earn yourself a free pass to watching everyone else go in front of you.
which,
to most,
would probably seem like a very frustrating inconvenience.
but to i, the jobless-homeless-reckless-revolutionary,
it means the glowing face of artistic possibility. (*mild sarcasm*)
i studied every shoplifting, suspended-license, trespassing-face of each of the old lady & teenage white male
criminal bastards in an attempt to discover what it is to be a 'law-breaker'
and unlock some universal secret to happiness
or G-d
or knowledge
and, in hopes of capturing the perfect story to be retold/rewritten/passed down.
but,
i have self-diagnosed ADD
and got distracted and looked at the carved graffiti on the wooden pews in front of me
watched the tear drop tattoo faces and the middle aged women diamond stud jeans
and the frightened seventeen year old hair cuts
try and convince a man that they were worthy enough
and it all just made me too damn sad.
so sad that i can't even write.
can't even enjoy this glass of wine.
or these last three cigarettes.
sat down at my piano and failed to play something beautiful.
sat down at my typewriter and it has run out of ink.
sat down with my cigarette and my lighter has run out of flint.
looked at the kitchen
there are dishes filling the sink.
i'm too damn sad to tell you anything more about the courtroom.
because i used to want to be robin hood
and peter pan
and kerouac
i used to see God in my lampshades
hold my breath over bridges
and make wishes on plastic submarines in the bathtub with my twin brother when we were 3.
i want all of those things back.
before there was a system.
and that man wasn't crying, with the blue tear tattoo,
in the pew right behind me. | |
|
| i will definitely be a bit confused when i wake up in the morning.
i just rearranged my entire dorm room with my roommate...at 2am...while drunk.
this should make for an interesting morning. | |
|
| Does anyone remember that show Sunset Beach? (A really awful soap opera with a serial killer with a fake British accent that no one remembers but me.) I'm asking because every time I bring it up, people look at me like I've lost my mind. But I haven't lost my mind. The guy from that show has shown up on CSI Miami and I can't stop talking about it and how that one guy got stabbed in the back with a shovel and it took him two episodes - TWO! - to die. I haven't lost my mind. Yes, I spend my days living vicariously through film and television stars, but this has less to do about that and more to do with my uncanny talent for facial recognition. I can't be the only one. Someone else had to realize Anakin Skywalker was in New Moon, and how many times Milo V has been on Law and Order, and somebody else out there has to remember Sunset Beach and this fucking guy that ruined LeAnn Rimes' marriage and then showed up in Miami-Dade with David Caruso. | |
|
| i used to think i was immune to heartbreak. i always left them before they were given the chance to hurt me, because i couldn't face it.
the boy i've been obsessing over since i moved to this city, who has made me believe we could have been something, has turned away from me.
he's with somebody else now, who is probably a lot prettier and smarter and way more in his league than i'll ever be.
i never thought i'd feel this pathetic. | |
|
| maybe this is a stoned thought
or maybe its a serious thought i can only think of when im stoned because my brain functions slower so i concentrate more on the small things
but
i hate, and i mean right when i see it i get a little bit angry inside, and my skin crawls, and i am just in disbelief, hate is when i see pens without pen caps.
why
why is is so hard to put a pen cap BACK on the pen?
do you really have that much time in between taking a pen cap off and putting it on the end?
you really get distracted the moment you take the pen cap off, a light bulb goes off in your head
and you quickly drop the pen cap and do it, then you continue to use that pen, cap less.
maybe i am really stoned and crazy .
like am i the only one that certain small things trigger me that much more when im stoned?
the smallest thing change my emotion so fast.
i dont know. sorry bad rant. | |
|
| **EDIT Wed Dec 9 00:28:16 UTC 2009 **
The notification system has been fixed in the new release... we are currently processing the queue, which is upwards of 12m jobs... please bear with us while our workers chew through this large queue and get your notification / emails out. Some may come more quickly than others due to weights on the notifications themselves, but we are hoping in the next 24 hours to have all the queues cleared and all notifications delivered that had been queued up over the past few days.
Again I apologize for this inconvenience, but we are almost out of the woods as soon as we are done clear cutting some of the forest ;)
Thanks,
** END EDIT**
Hey Guys,
Unfortunately with our last release, and its instability, we were forced to roll back releases. Unfortunately in doing so, it would seem that our notification system has been broken somehow. Our engineers are working on this issue as quickly as possible. We hope to have a patch within the next day, so we can deploy our code and fix the notification system at the same time. Please *bear* with us ;)
Currently all notifications are being queued up so they can be processed as soon as the fix is pushed and verified to be working correctly.
Thank you, | |
|
| I wore that scarf that you bought me today.
You bought one for each of us, I remember:
Three different colours, purple, green and red.
You let her pick first, of course you did, and we all saw the cuteness in this, apart from her, who remained oblivious, or more likely obstinate.
She picked green.
Then you came to me, and I wonder if you saw the pure unadulterated joy in my eyes at this gesture. You wouldn't know it then but such a small action left me happy for the rest of that bitter winter. This was one of the first times I knew I was home when I was with all of you.
I picked purple.
Lastly you got to her, you appoligised at her having no choice, as me and her ran up to her excited about our new accessories. She looked us over, and then back at you.
"It's okay, I would have picked red anyway."
Maybe I look for too much symbolism in things, but I thought each colour suited us perfectly, you probably never even realised it. We wore our scarves faithfully throughout that winter. I think we thought it bound us together, a unity, we were us.
That was before she hated you, before he broke her heart and before I stopped believing in forevers.
The green scarf got burnt.
The red scarf got lost.
But my purple scarf, I still have it. It still smells like last year, of friendship and of late drunken tears on late drunken nights, of hard times and dark times, of singing in the middle of the road, of walking through the bitter cold with last drags on our last cigarettes, I swear it's my last, of the sunrises we never managed to stay awake to watch.
Every time I wear it, I'll remember when we were an us and fall in love with my own nostalgia.
Thank you <3 | |
|
|  Anne Whitehouse is reading her poetry on every radio station NPR related with her latest release, Blessings and Curses. The spirit of her voice is embedded in the words of this collection of 40 blessings and 24 curses. Read our review of Blessings and Curses here and find out more about Anne and her life as a poet. | |
|
| ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif) freeskiersWhile some of us long to escape the cold, dark stretch of winter for hot tropical beaches, for others, there's nothing quite like whoooooshing down those shimmering sugar alps. If you're fond of freestyle skiing, get ready to slide down the slippery slopes in good company. This passionate, international community shares travel/gear tips, anecdotes, photos, and videos for those who can't get enough of the sweet stuff. | |
|
| seasonal_iconsNeed some extra twinkle to decorate your place? Check out these dazzling holiday-themed icons. If you're an artist, you can post your own creations, provided you abide by the simple rules (which is to say, all cheer and no politicking). Be sure to comment and give credit if you wish to borrow a little spirit (no direct links, please). If you're feeling a touch of humbug this season, this is an instant shot of festivity. | |
|
| handmade_giftsHigh on creativity, but low on cash? You'll find tons of brilliant suggestions for do-it-yourself crafts sure to please everyone on your holiday gift list. Offering detailed instructions, photos, budgets, timelines, and active support, you'll soon turn spare remnants of fabric and time into cherished keepsakes. Be sure to search entries and read user guidelines before you post for help! | |
|
| i didn't sleep at all tonight.
instead of writing my research paper.
I played in the snow, from 2amish to 4amish.
followed by hot chocolate and a shower.
now i don't have any more of my paper done
and i'm heading off to class on no sleep.
i'm exhausted and a little bit rejuvenated. | |
|
| it is hard to breathe
when you believe in good
and you cannot find it everyday
i could die on frost covered mornings like this
sipping maddog from the bottle
and standing on my porch in the cold dark
lighting last cigarettes
picking dead leaves from the keys of my typewriter
feeling like the drunk in the storybook that watched the painting on the wall for some kind of meaning
it seems that there was more to this once
back when i scrawled rumi quotes in black ink on my skin
laughed with drunk grasshoppers on sunlit mountaintops
saw reflections of G-d in my coffee cups
and stole away into the night to hide from my bed and pillow
i want to finish my book by january
but, the pages all keep laughing at me
laughing at the ways i have fallen from the grace of meaningful things to say
the pen has stopped
ink dried
in part from the cold
and cynicism
the more i've learned only reveals the little i know
more clearly reveals my cracks and faults
the ignorance and innocence
i want to know everything
or it seems i know nothing at all
i do not know what i have become
or how long it will take to become more than this
but, i keep trying to force something of a prayer from my lips
or make some sort of goddam 1:11am wish that will give me enough to feel free
free like first snows
and first kisses
snow angels and heartbeats
foggy window poems traced with my skinny, white fingers
and the first names of all the people i believe in
cotton balls and journal entries
wine stained teeth and energy
free like christmas lights
mixtapes & day drunk parties
rolling fives on a thursday
and love notes on the mirrors
free like franny & zooey
and kavannah
and wes anderson movies
hot chocolate, merry-go-rounds, chipped teeth, & vinegar
free like train-hopping through alabama
and sleeping on the rooftops of convenient stores
dumpster-dived kitkat bars, watermelons, and sushi
free like,
if there is such a thing,
i will find it
until that time
my words will be restless
and meaningless
and all that i have to give
| |
|
| The reception was going fuzzy again so he started making the kind of jokes I would threaten to hang up on him for. “Are you sending me radioactive waves through the phone?” –he asks while I rub my thumb against the button that would take his voice back to Florida, some 60 degrees away from my cold Minneapolis living room.
“Don’t hang up,” he says quickly though I hadn’t even considered anything of the sort. I begin laughing just loudly enough for him to hear I am still on the line. “Even if you are sending radioactive waves I’ll forgive you, love. Maybe then I’ll light up at night just like your eyes and finally have a reason to deserve you.” | |
|
| - Music:The Kinks "Waterloo Sunset"
| |
|
| fuck whatever I've said.
He doesn't love like I love
& I am unhappy & unsure.
Something's missing between us, and I'm worried it's a piece of me | |
|
| Everyone has been in a REALLY bitchy mood today. To cheer everyone up and make them stop acting like assholes to me, I've decided to spam the internet with pictures of kittens.  ( meow meow meow )- Mood:annoyed
 - Music:Namie Amuro.
| |
|
| even though you and i had that debate so long ago
(over a year now)
i still don't think i know what maturity is
i don't think you had it, and i don't think you had a right to judge
i think that a huge part of maturity is the ability to apologize, just as much as the ability to forgive
and neither of these you have
and i think i very much like the idea of applying where you work, because i need a job and they hire and it'd be interesting
and i think that's partially a demonstration of my immaturity
but i've stopped caring about what you do
and i've stopped dressing up when i think you'll be someplace i will
and i've stopped comparing everyone else to you in my mind.
and i think that just because i like to blow bubbles, and i think that rain means something good is about to happen in my life, and i like cheesy love songs and playing my piano, and i have teddy bears, and i like to wear skirts and curl my hair because i feel like a porcelain doll
well, i don't think that makes me immature
and if it does i'm not sure i want to be mature anyway.
so call me ridiculous again, please. and thank you so much. | |
|
| Every time we lie awake
After every hit we take
Every feeling that I get
But I haven't missed you yet
Every roommate kept awake
By every sigh and scream we make
All the feelings that I get
But I still don't miss you yet
Only when I stop to think about it
I hate everything about you
I need interesting ljfriends. People should add me. | |
|
| damn good looking.
you are eating spicy hot dog sausages
covered in cheese
sliced into perfect halves
because you are drunk
and numbers are the only thing that makes sense
make sense of this
tristeza
pbr
and endless symmetry
you did roll a five today
a skinny black tie
dreads
and a scar where your monroe used to be
this is who you are now
drink in your indecision
taste your doubt
and breathe deep the love you will never stop believing in | |
|
|
i hid out on the front porch, i light up in my mind
i looked for me a lover, the best one i could find
he got himself a ticket on an international flight--
oh it's nothing but a god damn shame, is what it is
oh it's nothing
but a god damn shame.
the smell of burnt exhaust drifts into the bar,
it's midnight in california, it's high noon where you are
motorcycles and booze; this dirty old perfume
oh it's nothing but a god damn shame
it what it is
oh it's nothing,
but a god damn shame.
i tried to go to sleep in my haunted little room
the shadows are churning in the passage of the moon
it breaks my heart to tell you
that i couldnt come so soon
oh it's nothing
but a god damn shame, is what it is.
it's nothing
but a god damn shame.
tell me one more time
while you went away
it makes a little sense in the light of day.
when the evening comes around all my senses fly away;
it's nothing but a goddamn shame, is what it is
it's nothing,
but a god damn shame. | |
|
|
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