mom

i dont explicity speak often. but here it goes.
cancer. the first time it was a go-get-it attitude. this time around, when it came back with such a nasty attitude and vengeance it begins to ware. my efforts in researching on how to help in the fight (for cure) also magnifies the great amount of animosity and downright hatred towards this desease. a hatred towards something that is so hard to yell at. to scream at. i do not consider myself a true daily victim in even dealing with it, since i am states away from my own mother who is fighting it. i dont see her pain or despair with it... with something she has no control over.

and in the end i know ive been lucky for all that i have and have had.
heres to hope.

caccoon

the envelope the letter goes and the stamp placed perfectly on its corner. it could not be more contrived. more deliberate. like the words chosen to present within it. calculated and perfect.

 

still. the breath is heavy with uncertainty. the heart trembles with resistence. unbalance would be lethal to it and most painful.

 

curl in the thougts, curl in the magic. curl it  into the central core womb and keep it safe.

maybe...

allergic reaction

a growth has settled under my skin

and my limbs redden and burn

my hand wipes at my hot face

smearing heat to colder places

 

i dig my nails to feel better pains

and write words to forget my hunger

 

when did this happen?

the lack of resiliance

the lack of self preservation

 

doesnt matter

my body is reacting in revenge.

 

 

i feel better

The blue sky has graced my ether again

orange skirts will reappear

yellow and green shoes will pitter patter

and happy sounds will dance above my brow

dime a dozen

looking over images today

of cute things and funny things

of buildings and modernism

of beautiful people and lovely smiles

and all i could see

is you flip through mine so quickly

burden

mi amor.. id like to say
but the words are dry in my mouth
the crook in my neck isnt helping
id like to smile but i cant
dance but im tired

and then you give me sadness
to make me feel better

Hey mami.

So here we go. My new mother board in my new computer.

I should be happy with my toy but I am debating whether this is a good thing or a bad thing. As if i don't sit in front of a computer at work enough*? Why would i subject myself to more screen time? More eye strain and bad posture in the comfort of my own home? It's not like my desk chair at home is something worth missing while I'm away. I'm addicted to the internet and the machines who bring it to me.


*As she types from her office at 9:53PM

night terror

cancer grew in her frail body
and i ate the cob like a greedy child
a painful crunch on my fallen K-9
my hand clenched hard to keep it safe
walking around lost and panicked

yanked from my roots
and before I knew it
i wandered with an empty crimson hand

stop shaking me!

stop this wretched twist you do at my wrist
the pull
the push
the spiral rabbit hole i fall
climb then claw
back on my mountain top again
now pull me back down
why dont you!
why dont you!?

push me

tinge of devil

i could wrap you in my cloak
but i swing it in fury
dance it at your lips
at the very fingers you reach from

circling your words with yours again

let us share what we both know
i am no pot of gold
we can say it out loud...

we expect failure and nothing more

lovely ladies will avenge my sorrows

September





October





All i need now is Miss. Brandi Carlile in November ;)

drum drama dram dumb

there is that drum again... pecking at my peg-legged drumstick. carrying on about its latest bass encounter. my feet seem to catch that proper beat.

AND

a nod of my head, i float to its vibration and get caught in drum drama. pitter patter, my heart goes thump. filling me with drams for easy feet and open legs. lets get going drummer boy in your dark chocolate skin.

be my dumb for tonight and i'll be your no-drama.

c'mon.. fishy fishy

I want to be the small fish

take this authority away from me

bind me and grapple this  power i have

let me kick and struggle my limbs away

i have the will to be will-less

the conscious to be left unconscious

a temporary defeat

a moment of pure sacrifice

...

you don't have it in you

the very rifle i'd use to kill

you shudder at it

and i stroke its barrel

...

but this fish has been wrong before.

drums, silence this violin

i've looked away from our sunny days
and taken a long walk through thorny trees
my clothes ripped, feet tired, mouth dry
a weak smile up to the moon
it smiles back and offers me a different day

Our coop makes it to sunny state, los angeles city

:) just a cute update on coop adventures

Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®

This "nothing"

I miss the rothko chapel in a time like this. Getting lost in its silent black womb. Suppressing my soul enough to quiet my nerves.

Maybe it was the sunshine that I'd return to that would lift my soul. The green grass and large pecan tree field. Piano's museum gleaming clean..my first love affair with architecture.

This was my stop after the bus ride, but before my nude figure drawing class.



Now I ride the subway straight home. Something's gotta change.

Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®

Call me a hater

Cause I don't mention in passing what I do...

what I do?

I drink

I smile

I love

I create

And I try my best not to grow bitter.



I'm a stripper... Not believable?

Ok

How about...

I'm a social worker?

Oh! That works for you?



Sigh... Hipster boys really need to stop thinking tight extra sagged skinny jeans is "hip".



-end of rant

Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®

Lover's aching feet

I will stand by you through this.. My soft breath and gentle voice will soothe you.



There is a rumor that americans work too hard and don't enjoy life. I think the italians started it. Nonetheless, my lover has lost his way into a cliche.





Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®

A tinge of sour grape

It was obvious she was allowed to dress herself that day. Yellow minnie mouse leggings, pink and white snoopy sneakers, green socks, plaid skirt, pearl necklace, white fur shaw and a red and white bandanna at her head. She accidentally grabbed at my calf when the train jerked, careless that she didn't know me. Naturally, my hand immediately fell to protect her faulty foot-work. She didn't seem to mind, being easily distracted by a burly man sitting down. We both looked at him for a bit. He was nodding off as I felt a cramp shoot through my stomach and the girls mom tugged at her hand for the next exit.

I think it made me wonder why she wasn't mine.

Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®

point of not return

"i have to get my shit together" thought the girl as her heel pressed into her paying customers shoulder. go back to school. get that degree i took this job for.
a swirl and dip into his lap, noticing that the dirty bloke kinda smelled nice.
"ah, he's still sober" she thought.
i really do need to get my shit together.

my other element

as you know i'm madly in love with you
but sometimes i drown in it...joyously
like a bucket of water,
a bucket of your love pours over me
and i bathe in you
with sunkissed drops at my skin

8 years clean

I don't think i've ever really thought about it as a triumph, becoming "clean". Even the word clean is strange to me, as I'm still in a bit of denial that i was ever "dirty" enough. Heroine users go clean. Crack users go clean. Meth users simply aren't using at the moment. Maybe it's because I never used a needle in the entire 3 years.

When we decided to "stop", we did it as any meth addict would do anything...we over thought the process and we spoke about it for days.. we discussed the strategy thoroughly.
We'd previously discussed so many other things this way, none of which we accomplished.

It's hard to come to terms with people praising us on our stopping. I wish I knew what made us stop. i wish i had more to say than "we just made the decision to stop".

milk man anyone?

awakened by the cat's meow i lay in my empty bed
its 8am and he's at eliza's house and I've requested a donut. his voice happy as he comes in. i rustle out of bed to greet him i feel his eyes stare me down in my nudity.
I begin to think about how madly in love i am with our peculiar relationship. Knowing that he's hopped up on a bit of blow. knowing he's mostl likely shared sexual thoughts with my dearest girlfriend. how we mantain ourselves seperate and together.

an hour later we lay panting and all i can think is.

you're so cool
you're so cool
you're so cool

Or maybe my eyes

My memory and wits about time fail me these days. As i look at people on the train and think they must be someone else, someone i know. The girl across from me, Krista. Of course its not really her. It's been 5 years and she looks younger than I remember. But at second glance, it might be as I watch her eyes scan the NYC tourist map. I ponder calling out to her. Krista?
Can't be her. She would be about 40 now and this girl isn't even in her 30s. Time sure has played a mental trick on me today.

i promise

i will treat myself better

written for the first time.

old stone..

looking at him with weeping eyes "ill help you jump!"
as her own body fell beneath her own feet.. through the concrete into the cold air between water and stone.
her voice seemed tot carry only but an inch
her eyes and body not paid wage to
and alone her hand slipped his
he stood stoic with a smile
that bared no resemblence to hers.

let's do this!

hoot!

2010

with my hair in rollers, a bride-to-be at my side, and a ghost looming over me.
That's how it began.
it continued with careful footsteps
that escalated to a flutter by the spring
and danced furiously in the summers heat
my sunshine was too bright for our fall
and the winter blues never came.

Happy new year to all..
(heart) teamlove

looking back

i started sharing my thought online four years ago. first it was a "journal" then the blog. it was simply a way to write again. I'd stopped writing in my paper journals and thought it might be easier via blog/typing. Four years ago today i wrote this via Journal Home:

12/6/2006 - all down hill
well finished the most relevant final of the semester....STUDIO JURY.

this is where students present work to a panel of architects and they tell what you did right/wrong.

so after not sleeping for three nights, i present, and a big shot architect tells me my design represented mush. mush in the sense that i could not make a desicion on what i wantd my architecture to be. the other two jurors liked my desicions but said the project lacked conviction. so this was not a good jury, to say the least. very bad actually.

the problem: i was too aware of what other students were doing all semester and not allowing myslef to become my own architect. i am talented, i was 1/15 people accepted to this institute, so why the hell did i sell myself short?

common of me to do this, but usually i analyze and repair, so next semester i will enter with conviction!

nice to know in two semsters i will have a masters, i would have never thought.