Up the stairs: the station where the act becomes the art of growing up

...His stomach turns and he thinks of throwing up.
But the body on the bed beckons forward
and he starts growing up.
The fever, the focus.
The reasons that I had to believe you weren't too hard to sell.
Die young and save yourself.
The tickle, the taste of...
It used to be the reason I breathed, but now it's choking me up.
Die young and save yourself.
She hits the lights.
This doesn't seem quite fair.
Despite everything he learned from his friends,
he doesn't feel so prepared.
She's breathing quiet and smooth.
He's gasping for air...


What do you want?

I love this general style, and plus it's neon green which is bad ass


But points to this one because it has technicolor mirrored lenses.




Which one is better? Because I'm fucking buying one.

Your secret's out and the best part is it isn't even a good one

Tell me something about yourself. A secret. Something you've never told anyone else. It doesn't have to be here, it can be on myspace, facebook, an email, over IM, anything. I have no preference.

But it's time to start trusting your friends.



My turn: I was obsessed with a certain boy before I started dating Carl. I changed everything about myself so that he would like me, and still all he talked about was the other slutty girls. One day he was kind of down, so I invited him over. We went down stairs and he asked me to give him head. I didn't say no.

He didn't talk to me for a year after that and that's why I hated him.

I will play my game beneath the spin lights.

The time has come for colds and overcoats.
We're quiet on the ride,
we're all just waiting to get home.
Another week away, my greatest fear.
I need the smell of summer,
I need its noises in my ears.
If looks could really kill,
then my profession would be staring.
Please know we do this cause we care
and not for the thrill.
Collect calls to home
to tell them that I realize
that everyone who lives will someday die
and die alone.

And we won't let you in.
Though we're down and out.
No we won't let you in.
You win, you win, you win.

I wrote more postcards than hooks.
I read more maps than books.
Feel like every chance to leave
is another chance I should have took.
Every minute is a mile.
I've never felt so hollow.
I'm an old abandoned church with broken pews
and empty aisles.
My secrets for a buck.
Watch me as I cut myself wide open
on this stage. Yes, I am paid
to spill my guts. I won't see home till spring.
Oh, I would kill for the Atlantic,
but I am paid to make girls panic
while I sing.

And we won't let you in.
Though we're down and out.
No we won't let you in.
And we won't let you in.
We don't want what isn't ours.
We won't let you in.
You win, you win, you win.

And the coastline is quiet.
While we're quietly losing control.
And we're silent but sure
we inventened the cure
that will wash out my memories of her.
"The harpoon is loaded. The cage is lowered.
The water is red."
Like you, like you.

And we won't let you in.
Though we're down and out.
No we won't let you in.
And we won't let you in.
We don't want what isn't ours.
We won't let you in.
You win, you win, you win.



This is the happiest day of my life.

P.S. That doesn't count as a blog post.

It must be your face

Or it's your body
If it ain't your body, THEN IT MUST BE YOUR FACE!


My creepy child molesting uncle is back in town for Thanksgiving and I'm thinking the holidays in general. He called me. It was awkward. He's like,
"How are you?"
"OK"
"Just OK? You're not glad to hear from me or anything?"
"... I don't know."
"Do you know anything."
"... Nope."


I'm not sure where my dad is. He hasn't come home yet. He's 2 hours late.
I'm not working on my script. I really need to. Je suis regardée Testees. C'est très drôle, mais le premiere episode j'ai vu, ils ont gender reassignment surgeries et ils se sont baisés plus et il y avait nudity plus, et j'ai vu dans la living à chez ma mére.



I miss you. A lot. Can you please come over sometime this week? Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, s'il te plait, bitte, por favor, wa enkore, ole hyvä, gjörõu svo vel, kudasai, te amabo, prosze, pozhaluista, uxolo, please?

So here's to being alone,

To anyone on their own,
If anyone's listening.

Tomorrow is my Dad's birthday. There's a delicious looking cake on the stove and if I didn't have any form of self-control, there wouldn't be. But, we went shopping! For food, so not as exciting, but when otherwise you're faced with a pantry full of canned tomatoes, rice, and wheat bread, it's pretty fucking fantastic.

By the way, we have phones again, but I still doubt that anyone other than Carl is going to call me, and he pretty much never calls anyway.

I'm hearing the faint sound that only M&Ms hitting the side of our candy bowl can make, and... I'm about to engulf them all in my mouth.

I'm in decidedly high spirits for which I cannot rationalize.

Did you know that if you eat the brown and the blue M&Ms, they look just like Skittles, except chocolate-eyer. Has anyone ever tried those chocolate Skittles? They look as if they'd taste like shit. Someone get back to me on that.

Anyhow, right now I'm just waiting on Carl to possibly come online because he said he might do that later and I'm bored as fuck.

I made this and it makes me smile. I'm thinking that I automatically win for this:

If I could be like that

771270221

So I guess we’re all growing up now and we’re not anything like what we used to be and we’re not anything like the pictures of us that our parents took when we were five and splashing around naked in the blue inflatable kiddie pool that our dads blew up with their mouths and filled with cool hose water but I don’t want to move on because I liked the way I was when I was a toddler and I liked the world the way I saw it when I was little. I want to be truly excited about the ice cream man again and I want to think I’m rich when I find a quarter on the ground and I want to go back to the time when bubble baths were acceptable forms of bathing and I want to find shapes in the clouds again and love rolling down the hill and I want to be able to put my baby teeth under my pillow for quarters in the morning and I want to once again love the glow sticks my parents bought for my brother and I that we would keep in the freezer so they’d last longer and take out every night and stare at them under our bed sheets until we fell asleep and my parents would sneak in and put them back in the freezer for tomorrow and I want to spend hours trying to catch butterflies and I want to make mud pies and wear little tiny rain boots and splash in puddles and I want to believe in Santa Claus again and I want to be excited about getting goldfish at the pet store and I want to trade candy with my brother after a night of trick-or-treating and I want to fit comfortably under my bed and I want to get lollipops when I get my hair cut and I want to diligently make leprechaun traps that never work and I want to get eggs from the Easter bunny and I want to finger paint and I want to sing the alphabet song and not understand how to tell time and I want to be tucked into bed at night and I want my nightlight with Winnie the Pooh on it back and I want to cry about skinned knees and laugh about knock-knock jokes and really truly love Dr. Seuss again and not fake-trying-to-be-cool loving it but this-is-the-same-book-you-read-to-me-every-night-of-the-year-but-I-want-you-to-read-it-to-me-again loving it and I want to fear only the monster under my bed and I want to not care how I look and not care what people think and I want to be excited about jigsaw puzzles that are too easy and I want to be able to spend ten hours drawing monsters on the concrete with chalk and not notice that a whole day has gone by and I want to have to learn to tie my shoe again and I want to not know that my race is different from your race and I want to be able to cry whenever I want to and I want to know that everything is always okay and that there will be someone watching ready to pick me up when I fall and brush off my hands and put band-aids on my knees and hold me and hug me and whisper in my ear that it’s alright and that I shouldn’t cry and that it’ll stop hurting soon and I want to ride my tricycle with the orange handles and black bars and the little glow-in-the-dark beads that my dad and mom helped snap on the spokes so they clacked when the wheels spun.

Baltimore's Quiet and cold.

There's no ship in the bay to take me back home
In time for the holiday.
So December never ends,
You come here instead.
I've got gifts and food and friends,
Plenty of room in my bed,
Oh, you can help me mend.



The holiday season is ways away, but it's impending. Thanksgiving is going to be here in a little under two weeks, then it's only another 3 before Christmas. And then 2 weeks after that, we have finals.

It's hard to look at things after you've seen them in a new perspective. Like those patterns on the wall that you can't unsee. Once your eyes have sought them out, they never go away. I like that story the best, out of all the ones that V told us.
I used to have a strip of wall paper with rabbits on it on my wall (my mom picked it. it shows a lot about her taste. she's also the one that wanted to go with neutrals in every room of our house. when she moved out, my dad painted our house in rainbow colors). Anyhow, the rabbits were brush-stroked, and so was the grass around them. There was this one clump of grass that reminded me of a fish monster sort of thing. The way some of the blades of grass stood together looked like a big fish mouth grinning and the other odd blades stood away from them like fins. Well, like all wallpaper, the pattern repeated itself, and it turns out that one of those fish monster clones ended up right next to where my bed would lie. I had to fall asleep every night with that picture next to my face, and honestly, I was a little afraid of it. It wouldn't go away. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make it disappear. I couldn't unsee it, and I couldn't change it into something else.

That's how I'm starting to see time. As a big monster. It's just eating up everything. I wish I could see time like I used to.

Never close enough.

Fucking in the streets

Churchill is closed?
Je suis très confus.

Edit; Electrical problems, or so I've been told.


But, since I'm really bored and have nothing better to do, I was thinking about going to the rec center. Anyone want to come?


Also, I'm even more confused about this:


I got a mysterious comment from someone named Marnie on a post that I made over a year ago. And when I clicked on her name to go to her blog to read her profile, it's just a listing of different kinds of insurance. But not like one of those spam blogs that doesn't really exist. This one is there and obviously has someone running it.

That is probably the most FUCKTHEWHAT? moment of the day.

Mama

Mama, we all go to hell.
Mama, we all go to hell.
I'm writing this letter and wishing you well,
Mama, we all go to hell.

Oh, well, now,
Mama, we're all gonna die.
Mama, we're all gonna die.
Stop asking me questions, I'd hate to see you cry,
Mama, we're all gonna die.

And when we go don't blame us, yeah.
We'll let the fires just bathe us, yeah.
You made us, oh, so famous.
We'll never let you go.
And when you go don't return to me my love.

Mama, we're all full of lies.
Mama, we're meant for the flies.
And right now they're building a coffin your size,
Mama, we're all full of lies.

Well Mother, what the war did to my legs and to my tongue,
You should've raised a baby girl,
I should've been a better son.
If you could coddle the infection
They can amputate at once.
You should've been,
I could have been a better son.

And when we go don't blame us, yeah.
We'll let the fires just bathe us, yeah.
You made us, oh, so famous.
We'll never let you go.

She said: "You ain't no son of mine
For what you've done they're gonna find
A place for you
And just you mind your manners when you go.
And when you go, don't return to me, my love."
That's right.

Mama, we all go to hell.
Mama, we all go to hell.
It's really quite pleasant
Except for the smell,
Mama, we all go to hell.

2 - 3 - 4
Mama! Mama! Mama! Ohhh!
Mama! Mama! Mama! Ma...

And if you would call me your sweetheart,
I'd maybe then sing you a song

But there's shit that I've done with this fuck of a gun,
You would cry out your eyes all along.

We're damned after all.
Through fortune and flame we fall.
And if you can stay then I'll show you the way,
To return from the ashes you call.

We all carry on (We all carry on)
When our brothers in arms are gone (When our brothers in arms are gone)
So raise your glass high
For tomorrow we die,
And return from the ashes you call.

Things need to get better fast.

I want these:
I L O V E Y O U ! ?

It might sound crazy but it ain't no lie

I got an email from HotTopic. It said neon was this season's trend. I said, "OH GAWD." Plus, that picture they had was priceless. All you had to do was look at it and you'd have a flashback from a horrible generation (I won't name which one) that you weren't even born in. It was that awful. Just look at this page: D':
Or, like, this: Dx

I mean, I can understand some neon, but it was bright pink and green and yellow leopard skinny jeans and sleeveless jean jackets and big hair with random neon accessories. It's the kind of thing you'd shoot someone for wearing.

So, I'm hoping we can ride this one out and maybe not be ashamed of ourselves two years from now, because that stuff is so horrible, it will only take two years instead of ten to realize how fucking ugly our taste in clothes was. I can tell you right now, I will have no part of it, and I earnestly hope you don't either.

I'm glad that you can forgive,

only hoping as time goes you can forget




I want to start over. From scratch. If that's possible, anyhow.
"We've got half an hour left in this circus and I want to see some magic."
"You know, you're really no good as a ringleader."
"Yes, but I certainly put on a good show."



Sometimes, I really need to let it go.

Don't make it look so pretty burning

She always manages to ruin everything.

All bets are off. I always lose. Just like I lost this war.









I need you now. Why am I always too late?

When I get back up on my feet I make the music stop

I was a little less than optimistic about the end of today before you picked me up. All I could think of was the time I had wasted waiting to go over to your house.

And I wasn't tired when you arrived. I was just sad. So visibly so that your mom even noticed.

But after a little warming up and getting comfortable, I was home again. You make me so happy all the time, and I was having so much fun that I lost track of time. Oddly enough, it didn't fly by. There was just more and more of it.

When we came home, all I was thinking about was that I had 3 1/2 hours left with you, but when I left, it felt like I had been there all day.



Thank you. You have no idea how much you mean to me. Days like today just prove how much I need you.

Let's leave today and don't turn around

I don't have anything to say.
I'm not sure I want to.




Yesterday was somewhat lackluster. Definitely didn't turn out the way I'd have liked.