i don’t, i don’t

je ne manque pas le garçon
je ne manque pas le garçon
je ne manque pas le garçon
je ne manque pas le garçon
je ne manque pas le garçon

GODDAMN IT.

 

ortense

snow belly rising
she has traveled
always wrapping her crooked
mouth around an empty day
also known as
the last hurrah

 

heart-attacks

lately i’ve been pretty agitated with the fact that everything i write seems to just sit around on my computer, like lazy, untrained dogs …. cats, basically. so i’ve been toying with the idea of publishing a few of my poems and short stories myself, via xeroxing and stapling little books together and distributing them around the downtown area. sort of like those old men handing out the little bibles, but maybe different. it isn’t something i ever thought i’d do, and i’ll probably only ever do it this time, just to see what happens. it’s all the thrill of releasing an animal into the wild with none of the dangers of it dying as a result.

anyhoo, i wrote this a little while ago ( say, a few months ), and don’t think i ever posted it or anything. reading over it, i’m not sure what i think about it. maybe it could have ended better? figure i’d see the response it gets. critiques, suggestions wanted.

—

Even now, my chest gets tight around you. An arm goes numb and tingles, and although I never remember which, I’m sure it is only ever one arm. Sometimes I even feel nauseous. You’ve given me alot of these small heart-attacks. Kind of like when a kid is in the car with one of their parents driving and suddenly, the parent has to slam on the brakes and they stick an arm out in front of the kid. To save them. The parent could have a full-blown myocardial infarction, but they don’t. Why? Because the child is so accepting of that one gesture. The arm goes out, the heart resumes its normal business. Fatal injuries are prevented, facial reconstructions are avoided. Concussions, brokens noses, lost teeth, broken ribs, punctured septums, collapsed lungs. Head trauma. A child lives, a parent’s heart does not stop, just because they could co-exist so perfectly for a split second. This is only my opinion though.

It was never that you needed saving in particular, and you were not my child. You’ve given me so many heart-attacks like that though, simply because I could never stick my arm out in front of you unless it was a hug to say hello or goodbye or just a hug because you were feeling happy, excited or silly and just felt like one. So, I certainly couldn’t kiss you. I could not hug you from behind or rest my chin on top of your head or ever-so-slightly press the tip of my nose to your neck. Even if it wasn’t because I loved you or might have loved you, even if it was just to save my own little life. I could not mirror your body position with my own close as could be or let my fingertips graze your eyelids or stretch out across your back so that we made an intersection on the floor. I could think up all these interesting, non-sexual-but-still-interesting things to do concerning our bodies, but these always were and still are and probably always will be things that will never happen. I could not stick out my arm to hold you or even to stop you. Instead, everytime the brakes slam, I will just wish that I could reach out, and I will wonder how I have survived so many of these little heart-attacks.

cheer

if someone’s empty hands
could give your little wild ray
of light a chance to shine
i hear
the one who calls you
back to sleep
would cheer

—

meant to make the reader feel optimistic. like the whole world is inside of that one person who is rooting for you. please let me know if it works.

he finds

my madman in the grass
with sweetest sighs
finding the delicate things
but he finds me, ever in bloom
____

short and sweet ( i hope? ). i think it’s about loving someone who also loves you back and knowing why they love you and knowing that it’s all true, every bit of it. vice versa. just a nice feeling that everyone should experience at least once, myself included. here’s hoping.

feedback? suggestions? like it, hate it?

well, it’s about time!

i’m writing again. i can’t explain why. the only possible explanation is that i’m no longer in any sort of .. er, relationship? if you wanna call it that way. anyhoo, i’m happy that i can at least do things like this.

it is a waltz

you have no use for
people tangling your lonely arms
arou
around
nd themselves you sigh
a mysteriolust body
or just food for wolves
1 2 3 between my two eyes

gi gi

you shimmered like
a fish always
poisoning the air in front
of our faces and i
should have thrown you back

you may be strong, even ancient
i think, breathing underwater
but every glittering scale
is an island
that you lose yourself on

ring ring, ring ring

that bird you find dead
in the heather when
the telephone is ringing
and with your feathers
you think she will finally fly

skinning

are you really
real bad news
spinning softly waiting
for a spill, for the thrill
and am i waiting
softly spinning
while you’re grinning
at the kill

constructive ciritcism is always welcome. as for everything else, i’ve got another game plan. i’m leaving on the 22nd to go to savannah until late october to work 7 days a week on an army base, to make money for a car. i know the car, i feel safe in it. i just have to get it, take driving lessons, and get my license. then i’m going to apply at johnson & wales college in charlotte for their baking and pastry arts program. i may feel lost at times, but at least having a battleplan of sorts makes up for alot of it.

and to hell with romance. i realized recently that i am actually capable of not trusting someone ( whereas i’m usually pretty gullible ). of course, this person, while wonderful had questionable intentions, and as much as i wish things with us were different ( you seriously have no idea ), a friend of mine once said something like, “wish in one hand, fuck someone in another … eitherway, you’re getting aids.” now  i don’t know exactly what that means, but it makes me laugh everytime i think about it.

punchline.

“i would kill a thousand babies to be able to hug you again. i can’t imagine anything feeling better than that right now … besides killing a thousand babies.”

- alex

—

whatever it is we had for the brief time we had it, it’s come to an end. it did so slowly, a little painfully, awkwardly, and we were both so frustrated for a spell, but it has ultimately ended well, and with a joke. all in all, i couldn’t ask for a better break-up, and when i really step back and look at the situation, i realize that i haven’t even come close to losing a friend.

i won’t admit defeat!

.. even though this whole distance thing is alot tougher than i initially thought it would be. not to mention, i’m usually the first person to cut-and-run in a relationship when things get difficult. then again, there are small, shining moments where i find myself thinking, “hey, this can work,” and that has never happened in the past.

in other news, i am currently working at luna rosa. drop by and see me sometime. i’ll be in the kitchen, making paninis, shouting, being tricked into drinking copious amounts of limoncello ( tastes just like lemonheads and straight vodka ) and being called “jynx” by my boss. i  love working for italians. tried getting a second job telemarketing for the peace center in the evenings, but i don’t think that worked out ( siad they’d call by friday at 4, no call ). pity, because i hate being at my house, unless i’m there to sleep or read. so, if anyone needs a petite, live-in housekeeper ( i cook, i clean, i tell jokes, and can fit into tight spaces! ) until mid-august, give me a call. i don’t take up much space.

it’s unfortunate

that i see so much logic where i should see only selfishness.

what can i do about this?

i’m trying to understand, really, i am ..

but stop letting your problems stagnate. stop stating and act, even if you don’t know if what you’re doing will work. at least imagine what you could do to change your life. maybe i’m biased. obviously not everyone thinks the way i do, but life would be alot easier now if more people would just try –or even illude themselves into thinking that they’re trying. so that they feel better about themselves regardless. half-ass it, all that matters to me is your happiness, it doesn’t matter if it’s meaningful or sensible or practical to other people.

so be angry about whatever it is that you think you shouldn’t be angry about, take your time figuring out what you want to do in school. it doesn’t have to makes sense. i don’t care. i like you.

then again, maybe i’m missing the entire point. it happens.

new biz for worrywort

• i was officially accepted to harrington this week. all i’ve got to do now is get this student loan ( ohgodohgodohgod ), apply for housing by the 27th and sign up for classes sometime in august. this has all been ridiculously new to me and stressful as hell. i can only hope it’ll get easier. my first class is in september and i want to see everyone i possibly can before i go. 
• leaving for chicago this friday for the student weekend. beth may be going. we’re stopping to see tumbleweed at his school in indiana on the way. i’m a giddy little woman.
• been practicing poi and began attending circus practice again. i hope to learn some skills ( poi, fire-fans, hooping, fire-eating, stilt-walking ) that i can take with me to chicago and … silly and unrealistic as it may sound, make money by performing while i’m looking for an actual part-time job. this wednesday, i’m going to a fire-eating workshop and maybe this summer, the fella in running the whole outfit will have a burlesque troupe put together. woo!
• since i’ve become semi-spoken for, er .. gentlemen callers … have been coming out of the goddamn woodwork it would seem. the reasoning behind this is beyond my understanding. i reckon god just hates me and, although i’m rather happy and comfortable in one aspect of my life, still figures he should make another aspect perpetually awkward. fuck him though, i can take it. awkward is my middle name, bub.
• i’m worried about several things …. still. i can’t help it. like, for instance, having the common sense it takes to live on my own, especially in a large city. and i’m terrified that i will not be smart enough to handle college. seriously people. i’m not .. stupid, i guess, but i didn’t go a year of high school without failing at least one class. that includes my senior year. i took the class over that summer. my academic work ethic is sorry as hell, i procrastinate, i’m easily frustrated and i haven’t written any sort of paper or essay since the beginning on senior year ( and even then, i bullshitted the whole thing ) or done any sort of complicated math. i feel like i’m in over my head and i have no idea how i’ve let myself get this far without completely losing my shit and backing out.

things i need for chicago

rape whistle
knife concealed in a lipstick tube
knifepen
pepperspray ( check! )
this

alright, i’m freaking myself out.
i should just bulk up and start walking on stilts everywhere.

in other news, i’m finally pretty content with one aspect of my life. it just lives really far away at the moment, but i think i can manage.

sometimes things work out afterall

that’s it, really. i’m digging a certain tumbleweed who also digs me back. so far, we’re both okay with just knowing we’re fond of eachother.

i would say ‘that’s that’, mattress man
but there’s always going to be more when it comes to things like this.

pre-apocalyptic

FREAK-OUUUUUT.

why am i worried now

did someone make a fool of me
‘fore i could show’em how it’s done?
______

firstly, everyone needs to stop what they’re doing ( except maybe if you’re performing brain surgery –maybe ) and listen to neko case’s new album middle cyclone. that’s all i’ll say. i’m not going to even go into why it’s great because i’m not a critic, just a fan of really wonderful music.

secondly, i’m getting cold feet, about telling someone something ( “i like you. i’m sorry, the circumstances are awful and i’m pretty sure they make it impossible for you to feel the same, but i am awful fond of you. just thought you should know” ). i’ve got the words, more or less, but there’s so much at risk now, i can’t possibly make myself do this. this is tougher than agreeing to give college a try was. i need a skeptical ear, not a friendly friend, to listen and to give me advice.

thirdly, these are art/design colleges i am seriously looking at:

SCAD ( savannah college of art and design )
harrington college of design ( chicago! )
the school of the art institute of chicago

jungle water

calm down
your cupid’s bow lips
your shoulders are
moving, tiger-striped
you’ll find yourself another
slip into dark jungle water
you’re bobbing your head

small news ( circus? radiology? massachusetts? dance studio? bakery? )

firstly, it shoudl be noted that one of my favorite awful movies of all time was on today. mannequin, circa 1987. no idea what i’m talking about? just mosey on over to youtube and watch the trailer. i recorded it, for the purpose of viewing whenever i please.  what’s wrong with me? i don’t know.

secondly, on the job front, there are many opportunities to speak of, but few seem to be moving past just that. there’s the 8 month stint with the circus for $225 a week, baristering at coffee crema in the haywood mall, radiology assistance at greenville memorial, working the sales counter as strossner’s for their sexist overlord ( but oh, does it smell good there ), being trained by fred astaire dance studio people to be an instructor ( sounds tempting, but i’m afraid i’d start and find they were wasting their time actually trying to teach me a skill … then i’d feel bad ) or moving somewhere that has yet to be determined with my father and striking up a new life there. so long as they’ve got a fairly large public transit system wherever that is, i’m game.

once i’ve saved up a substantial amount of money, i’m hoping to pack myself and my cat pu and move myself up to newton, massachusetts. it’s nice there. look it up, why don’t you.

also, happy valentine’s day. i love eating those little chalky hearts and ignoring the fact that i have not had anything even remotely close to a boyfriend ( i wish i liked that term as much as i adore “lady friend” ) in four years. fuck it though. it’ll happen when it’s meant to happen. until then, i’m just going to lust after conan o’brien and a male version of kim deal that probably doesn’t exist and keep putting myself out there, time after time, no matter the results, until something really wonderful happens.

right now, i may or may not be rather keen on a certain tumbleweed, even though the circumstances point to no.

but in the infamous and shrill words of paul sedaris, “fuck it. that shit don’t mean fuck to me.”

i .. love this video.

especially, the black guy and his laugh
that british guy
and that woman’s spaceship/dress.

another near-death experience?

and after 9 years, it still scares the living daylights out of me.

fuck drunk driving
fuck crying
fuck you, bruce
fuck you, patsy

thank you, awkward rickshaw man ( benjamin ), for the blanket and for making me laugh when i felt like i was going to sob like there was no tomorrow.

is it less heartfelt if i wrote it after watching an episode of house?

i’ve had all my dreams in the dark
but none of them were ever
                                                             as real
                                                             as you
morning bells ring
blues
and spotted dogs sing
twos
and none of them
as real as you

i wrote this around christmas/new years and forgot about it.
inspired by synesthesia and something called charles bonnet syndrome. look them up, they’re both pretty cool, especially the last one. it’s like having a ghost limb only for blind people.

titles? please?

.. maybe just “ghost limb”?

 

 

 

expect nothing

and you will gain everything.

.. uh, right?

in five days, i will have been alive nineteen years. the prospect doesn’t bore me, i’m not jaded or indifferent to birthdays. in fact, i’m rather excited, but i’m a little afraid to even get excited about it, because things rarely turn out the way we want them to. but nineteen is my favorite number ( along with four ), so i’ve decided that this is going to be a good age for me, and hopefully it will be.

talk is cheap.

scheming and slipping through loopholes and under the fences of every obstacle i find myself faced with. it’s not a bad way to live, just incredibly depressing and unfulfilling after a while. settling for just the basics as far as living goes ( shelter, food, water, air, books ), doing just what you feel you’re able to do at that moment and not striving to shoot for anything else, just talking about it.

as they say, talk is fucking cheap.

after being convinced ( i.e. threatened with bodily harm ), i drove a huge goddamn pickup truck around an empty parking lot for almost two hours on new years eve. we have a black president now for chrissake’s. it’s time for me to change too.

i just hope i can do it.
wish me luck.

actually, better yet, call me once in a while and say, “amy, are you driving? right now?”
if i say no, hang up on me, come to my house and kick my ass all the way out to the car.

wish, granted

i spent the last bit of the old year and the first minutes of the new year driving a monster(ous) truck around the lowe’s parking lot in easley while shouting “THIS IS THE MOST TERRIFYING MOMENT OF MY LIFE”, but sort of enjoying myself, then went back to pickens where i watched movies at my dad’s house, sang what i knew of “auld lang syne” to my dog outside while i took out the garbage and read in bed up until right now.