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September 18th, 2009
02:22 am - you know how you know when you know
damn you wisconsin boy and your building your own canoe and taking it down the mississippi all the way to new orleans then us falling in love and you LOSING YOUR FUCKING TRAIN TICKET to go back tomorrow. there's a reason you lost it. the universe knows you should hang out a little longer.
that's all.
i hope to see you at the shrimp boil tomorrow.
i know i'll see you, actually. here's to the universe (and whiskey. and your love of jackalopes. you didn't know you knew i was a jackalope but you brought me whiskey).
you know when you know. ahhashfkjashfjlafhjlasf
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August 15th, 2009
06:44 pm
okay i decided i'm going to make a chapbook.
i've been mostly reading and scribbling down ideas; absorbing and preparing for autumn since that seems to be my writing season. but i've been throwing around the idea of a chapbook for some time and i think i'm going to begin making progress on it. i'm lookin' for themes or subjects. i think travel may be up there, but i'll have to narrow it down. hm.
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August 8th, 2009
02:57 am - on the politics of new orleans--
"it is unfortunate that it is so difficult to communicate with brad pitt" --scott
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July 30th, 2009
10:28 pm
for dinner i just had a half a banana, iced tea flavored vodka, a free hamburger, an ice cream float, one tomato cut up with some spices, and a bowl of rice crispies. altogether, not too bad for not spending a dime today!
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July 29th, 2009
04:28 pm - ey yo
tryin' not to be a ranter & tryin' to help the poor girl out but uh
if yer seventeen maybe moving 1500 miles away is a bad idea?
i didn't move to new orleans to be a babysitter hunny you got yerself into this
now make it work. next time try a summer camp.
i know it sounds so glamorous but this is real life for the rest of us in the house
and we've got our own lives goin' on; i'm sure you can make it to the grocery store
just fine.
okay i just had to get that out in an inoffensive place.
but jeeze; what did this girl think, it would be a dorm with a dining hall?
probably, actually. i guess when yer seventeen yer not exposed to enough
to have any faint idea what life would be like with no rules.
and if yer not a drinker or a smoker, it doesn't have that glamor to it.
poor thing
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July 25th, 2009
01:14 pm
from wikipedia.org:
"Another claim is that The House of the Rising Sun actually existed between 1862 and about 1874 and was run by a Madam Marianne LeSoleil Levant whose name translates from French as "the rising sun". Bizarre New Orleans, a guide book on New Orleans, asserts that the real house was at 1614 Esplanade Avenue between 1862 and 1874 and was purportedly named for its madam, Marianne LeSoleil Levant[1]."
oh yes i live there. i love it more.
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June 18th, 2009
06:11 pm - disaster ensues =[
okay so i'm movin' to new orleans, hahaha.
my lease started monday, leaving tonight via car.
eighteen hours of drivin' ahead of me!
at least i got to steal all of david's music
i can't wait til he comes to visit me =[
it's seemed pretty surreal until this morning.
now my car is packed up and i'm scared shitless
yikes. it's going to be good for me
it's a good opportunity to get a lot of work done
and i really would like to focus on that right now.
not drink beer & play video games all night.
it's been a great semester of travelin' and campin' and havin' a good time
but it's starting to dawn on me that i'm saying goodbye to a lot of things
and not just for the weekend.
i hope he comes and visits soon =[
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May 31st, 2009
11:43 am - cheers
here's to fifteen gloriously awkward hours of delicious family barbecues. madisyn is now six years old, and i celebrated by eating delicious brazilian food, drinking copious amounts of beer, and stumbling awkwardly out of david's bedroom this morning to a house full of family. hahahahahhahahaa oh it was hilarious. at this point i'm confident that the game is to make as many people as possible think we're bangin' and continue not.
also, the british scientists are right--bacon sandwiches are the way to go when it comes to curing hangovers.
also, white rose burgers are delicious for about five minutes and smelly for about twenty more hours
also, you cannot see the sunrise from washington rock.
also, i wish we did go to mountain jam, the weather is lovely.
now i must go look up the chords & lyrics to we shall overcome and bring them to alan.
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May 21st, 2009
03:47 pm - gerald stern has influenced me beyond recognition
Becoming a Traitor
It’s three years now I have been living
within these city walls.
I have studied neon—the bells of traffic
lights blinking soft and brake lights glowing
in the night, the river hidden beyond a wall
of graffiti.
I want to smell the fresh paint
I want to feed small birds french fries
to study their wings, delicate
I want to find the sunrise, always hiding
behind tall buildings, haloed by ambulance
sirens bleeding into the dawn.
In one month, I will move to a new town
and leave this loud behind, I’ll wake up
in a town where good mornings are welcome.
But I will remember the smells of recycling mornings,
I will remember my small arms lifting bags of trash
to the curb.
Let us remember sitting on train tracks
at sunset, scratching lotto tickets.
Let us remember to always have hope.
I remember Fridays, we’d sit by my window
and speak of leaving, it seemed so easy
it’s so easy to dream.
I dreamed of trains, of letters outweighing bills
in the mailbox, of words from you to me.
Now I stand on empty floorboards,
admiring the town I swore to hate.
And now, you see, I am standing on the city wall
watching the highway below, holding open
a door for anyone to join me.
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May 20th, 2009
11:37 am - i got attacked by a vampire last night!
actually, i must have just scratched myself while sleeping. but it was like a movie, i touched my neck & something was wet and duh duh duhn--it was blood!!
also, i've been having silly dreams again. all night long, every night. i remember parts of last night.
i was standing on my porch with a bunch of people and then just started making out with phil's friend James. it was really adorable and silly and we kept laughing and then he was like man that's a lot of making out. i need a break. while this went on, people kept leaving my house to go to some dance party. i didn't want to go because it was really far, at a bar, and it was already about 1 am. so i stayed on the porch, for some reason jeeps realized that can park ontop of other cars so that was happening, police were getting mad and randomly deciding "you're gonna geta ticket if you stay there!" and designated random no parking zones. also, my house turned evil and tried to kill me and needed plutonium? so i got the plutonium away and it fell under the porch so i knew it was just a matter of time before the house realized, and people were coming home and trying to go in and i was just the nutcase yelling NO NO THE HOUSE IS EVIL and my cat ran in the downstairs apartment and i finally got her out. also, lots of people were walkin' by on their way to the dance party, including mike with a group of about 50 people, to all of which he tried to introduce me. every time i guessed a name, i was super close. linda/lindsey etc. anyway, lauren from folk fest showed up and was excited for the dance party and when i asked how to get there she said the EE or the L and i was pissed off b/c it would take forever to wait for a bus and the bar closed at 2 anyway! so i decided to drive even though i was a little drunk and for some reason i had david's car so i put a bunch of kids in it and off to the bar i went. they kept saying it was in the 8s and i was being a pissy know-it-all sayin' "since when do they call it that? does that mean there's 8 sections and people use all the numbers for names? where am i, the 1s? i've lived here for years and never heard that before." then we passed a starbucks i'd never seen before and tada we were at/in the bar. i parked inside the bar? and susan was there but i think i was imagining her because i knew she was in germany. you could bring alcohol inside which was good because i had a big cup full of beer even though i didn't really want it and the place was open til 4 so it wasn't a real bar and the dancefloor was downstairs, but they would play a short song and then 5 minutes of commercials and then james showed up again lookin' all goofy and was asked me to dance so i said okay but i didn't feel like dancin' so i just kind of stood there. also my car was parked on a yellow line and i was scared i was going to geta ticket and susan was like stacey, you're inside a bar. it's 2 am--no cops are around. but susan was in germany and i was just imagining her there. i think i confused myself so much i woke myself up.
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April 2nd, 2009
10:25 am
Brooklyn Bridge is Falling Down
Brooklyn Bridge, I crossed you once,
and then you double-crossed me.
You, tall bricks stacked to last, to pass
the time standing strong as elephants
while I cling desperate as wires wooed
by the wind.
We hang suspended, our arms a trestle
separating me from you, yesterday from tomorrow.
The suspension is killing me—
I can’t hold this weight alone.
I can’t wait for you to fix your grip
and I think of London in the springtime.
Rain is falling heavy and hot, stinging
my shoulders, arms & hands—I’m groping
for a crack to hold onto, someplace
to slip my fingers now that your hands
are gone.
Brooklyn Bridge, I suspended disbelief
to cross you in good spirits, but
returned home conquered and frail.
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April 1st, 2009
10:24 am - poem a day for april
prompt: origins?
To a Little Green Lizard
I’ve caught you in my lens, friend.
You’re paused, midstride,
soaking up warmth from the stone path
as I soak up you, green and scaly,
unlike anything I’ve known back home.
I wonder how many fences you’ve scaled,
how many visitors you’ve startled in this
sculpture garden. You’ve started me and
I’m beginning to think about what you’ve
seen, how long you’ve scuttled through
New Orleans. Your skin is dry, ancient—
your eyes, bright and wise. You, little
companion, have observed great things,
rehabitation, regermination, the origins
of City Park in the twenty-first century.
You’re older than me and so significant.
Tell me, green friend, when did it commence?
Did it feel like an end? How can I begin
to tell one from another, anyway?
It’s all the same—we’re all the same it seems
just some of us have better camouflage.
Oh lizard, I’m not done speaking,
I still don’t fully understand, but you’ve ran
scurried off into the bushes and I’m alone
and wondering.
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March 13th, 2009
08:21 pm - poem i wrote in the parking lot of a 711/poem in need of an ending
I waited until you walked to the nearest ATM
before I pulled out my pen and notebook
scribbled the lines I’ve been tossing around
my head all weekend, careless as empty beer cans
clinking rhythmic in the moonlight.
We cheersed our cups in remembrance
of how well we fit together—you and me
dirty and beautiful as two shepherds in love.
We led our flock to the waters of Chesapeake Bay—
struck a match and brought a new village to life
with nothing but a charcoal grill
and boxed sangria.
Together, we celebrated the sunlight
and cast out our lines without expecting
a single bite. Eating was not priority, being
was enough. Together, we felt our skin grow
tan and our souls grow old. Together
we wrote a new future.
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March 10th, 2009
02:06 pm - i am in love with virginia
each day is better than the last =]
i won a scholarship, saw phish reunion weekend, camped by the bay
got sunburnt, love love love life
really, i don't think it can be appreciated enough.
i can't wait to meet my new little cousin.
i'm going on a picnic date in the bamboo forest on friday. i have good feelings about this one.
=]
i wrote a lazy sonnet without paying attention to meter at all. ha
Poem for Maddie Grace
The sun refused to show her face
until the morning you were born,
then clouds rolled away, sunrise of grace
pushed away all fragments of the storm.
I knew I had to meet you soon,
before the Monday rains,
so I packed a book and hit the road
sailed toward Chesapeake Bay.
You, warm inside my cousin’s arms
who loved you long before you met,
carried you safe and kept you warm, held
you close for the last cold sunset.
Born with dawn, sweet Madeleine Grace—
together we welcome the sunny days.
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March 5th, 2009
01:30 am
New Year’s Eve
Tonight, it’s too noisy to write
a poem—I can’t concentrate.
Each image fleets and sleets
like snowflakes hitting the asphalt
to immediately dissolve.
My words are awkward lovers, trying hard
to fit comfortably in one another’s arms,
hearts too shy to recognize
what they’ve discovered. Love
is quiet and small,
like a haiku, or something
short—a single breath.
It wants to swim through my poems,
weighting each line and forcing me
to pause when I just want to share
what’s real. What I see. You and me.
New Year’s Eve, I see you—
setting the rhythm for one new
revolution, one new resolution. Tonight
is one last chance to shake the loud out
like blankets, to cleanse the sins from
my mouth, spend the rest of winter
in silence, writing poems.
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01:16 am - i owe a lot to my favourite poetry professor. sometimes, i do believe people come together for a re
ason.
From the Third Level
after William Blake’s Proverbs of Hell
And the caterpillar lays her eggs
on the greenest leaves,
I can see her from my window
and I think of small babies with
small baby teeth.
If my children ate plants,
I’d climb the tallest trees
and pick each meal
off only the finest branches.
But I’ll never do that because
I’m human and we’re all sinners,
anyway. We choose only the
best branches to break, set
fire to the greenest leaves
and let the offering of fruit
ferment before we drink.
This kingdom rots for our pleasure
and, inebriated, we accept it,
choosing wicked pleasures of life
over simplicity, like reaching
out a window to touch a sycamore tree.
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March 3rd, 2009
12:50 am - poem i recited to and taught my class about:
wind last night blew down a gardenful of peach blossoms
a boy with a broom is starting to sweep them up
fallen flowers are flowers still-don't brush them away.
-anonymous
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February 26th, 2009
04:01 pm - dreams dreams dreams
my brain is broken again. i had a dream i went on a date with danny boyle. no i have no idea what he looks like, he was kind of old but he flew back here just to see me again once and then invited me to be his date at the academy awards and a party with tickets that cost 10 thousand dollars per pair. he met up with me and yael at a restaurant and she was like uhm, he's old, and i said yeahhh i know but it's so glamorous i don't care.
then i had a dream i was signing xavier rudd to a festival and he kept trying to make out with me infront of my mom and i was like uh...i'm going to my bedroom to uh...get a movie...and he followed me there for some hanky panky all night. it was weird. i felt dirty because i knew it was not professional and it should have been a serious business interaction and his manager was sure to tell me that after and said i better not dream of seeing him again but i didn't want to anyway.
the night before i dreamt that the landlord was showing the house adn then there was a party in my bedroom but i didn't know cos i was under the covers with somebody and we just wanted to cuddle up in blankets & not be a part of the world. it was hard to wake up.
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February 18th, 2009
12:19 am - greek choral ode...i'm replacing the entire first stanza
Ode to an Old Notebook
On those pages,
my hands understood me—
I’d tell them about each night, then close the lights
and lay down, but when I’m on my side
I can feel my body escape with each breath.
Each time I let the air out I feel more empty
and it only takes a minute before
I know—I won’t be sleeping tonight.
I’ll pour myself
a glass of wine and build
a fortress out of old books, as if walls of
voices could keep yours from my head.
The cat wanders into my palace and I
tell her about the day’s weather, crisp cold and clear:
You would have liked it, Abbey, everything
was bright and hopeful, like spring, but the wind.
The wind always whipped around corners
as if to remind me—we’re not there yet.
I’m not there, yet. I keep my hands busy, pour
myself into projects, read new novels all night, but still
I can’t write on the fresh pages of my newest notebook.
The binding just won’t understand that my lines often run long
or that pen scratches & inkstains are signs of affection.
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February 8th, 2009
10:16 pm - and another old one. i wrote a lot freshman year. maybe alcohol is good for the brain, after all.
You with the dark curls, dark eyes
you’re like me. We don’t know our roots,
we float on the breeze. We were born
to filthy cities, children of illegitimate intimacy
immediately sent off across the country.
We can only affirm this ambiguity
around us
within us
that is us we are.
We are the night, secrets
conceived in darkness,
two lips touch but don’t speak,
silent. We are the wind
born to winter, cold and strong
always dreaming, searching
for spring, for answers and
for mouths to spill language
for us to understand. We want
one true story.
Instead we make up a story
the two of us
the dark in us
the wind in us.
We find ourselves sitting
in snow, surprised to have found
this present, a gift with no past,
finally, a chance to ask.
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