(Decline to State)
IM Name: |
|Occupation:|| Occupying space|
|Fav. Movie:|| There|
|Fav. TV Show:|| Is|
|Fav. Book:|| a light|
|Fav. Song:|| the coming|
|Fav. Food:|| the|
|Fav. Car:|| day|
|Theme 'Profile2000' created by Mispelled||
Active Journal Entries | Archived Journal Entries
| Just a real journal, nothing to see here - Mood:Good|
Sunday May 12 20136:00:31 PM |
working for a doctor with the same name as me. kept answering everytime someone called her name.
scary communnal apt. with hillbilly men breaking into the rooms
went for a walk and two wolves happened by. One walked up and bit my hands.
Was directed to the orgy/swinger room. Couldn't find my boyfriend at first, and then found him in a lusty eyelocked gaze with another guy.
A girl in the bed was opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water.
Had to buy ice cream for a party. resentful. ice cream room had "Polish mafia only" entrance. and no ice cream.
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| Playing scrabble in an airplane - Mood:Good|
Saturday April 27 20135:02:53 AM |
|I found the word, "shaper". and I knew to put it in the overhead luggage compartment. |
The actress Elisabeth Moss handed me the letters in a Camel Wide cigarette packet.
The tiles then changed to a sack of pottery and knick knacks and I was to place them on top of a structure in a garage outdoors. Had to climb a ladder to get to it.
People groaned; it was the best spot for a word.
One piece was a fish fountain. I warned everyone to never put fish in there, it would cause them to fly. I placed the fountain last.
In my mother's backyard, the pond overflowed a bit and the tropical, feathery, beautiful fish started flying in the air.
I was in a bathing suit and had a small kickboard. I kicked my way up through the air, slowly and powerfully, to a 2nd floor bedroom window. Fish flew. My proud, tiny Italian papa was waiting. I touched his pockmarked forehead. He was so proud of me.
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| Do you have a consistent dream world? - Mood:Good|
Sunday April 14 201310:58:37 AM |
|I was having this dream this morning that I had taken some acid and was going to walk around town with my friends. |
When I picture my dream town, it's always the same. I could probably sketch out a map of where things are.
It takes elements from places I've been, but it has its own configuration that I have never seen in life.
There's The Neighborhood of Half Built Houses
The narrow forest near the lake/ocean
The path across the bridge and up a hill
The big neighborhood that's a bit dark, twisting, and far
The main street, where you enter some buildings backwards
The giant woods, with the hidden lake. It is sometimes good, sometimes malicious
Usually my homebase is my childhood home, but I don't really live there.
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| a poem to share. not mine - Mood:Good|
Tuesday March 26 20133:24:08 PM |
|leaving is not enough; you must|
stay gone. train your heart
like a dog. change the locks
even on the house he’s never
visited. you lucky, lucky girl.
you have an apartment
just your size. a bathtub
full of tea. a heart the size
of Arizona, but not nearly
so arid. don’t wish away
your cracked past, your
crooked toes, your problems
are papier mache puppets
you made or bought because the vendor
at the market was so compelling you just
had to have them. you had to have him.
and you did. and now you pull down
the bridge between your houses,
you make him call before
he visits, you take a lover
for granted, you take
a lover who looks at you
like maybe you are magic. make
the first bottle you consume
in this place a relic. place it
on whatever altar you fashion
with a knife and five cranberries.
don’t lose too much weight.
stupid girls are always trying
to disappear as revenge.
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