Sunday, December 29

Eleven Thirty Comes, And

Work was done, the restaurant was locked up. No plans for tonight__________''_just a calm evening with nothing and nowhere
...and no one.

I do have somewhere to go, though. I have some people that might want to see me... I should give him a call... Maybe it's time to stop by whatsherbucket's house again... Maybe I should--

--and before she knew it, it was five in the morning. Netflix still blaring on her computer, a pile of French flashcards to her side, and the night's third shade of lipstick on her misshapen mouth--like she had somewhere to go.
As if she had someone to see.


Wednesday, December 18

world famous

If you could but
catch a glimpse of this 


"i'm trying" she explained
"but you're the first thing i thought about that morning--"

he'll shake his head

"--and every 

[hell] shake his head and
tear* up
the wrapping.


Thursday, November 14


"I trade books with the devil sometimes," she says.
"He enjoys Oscar Wilde(of course)and
his favorite form is essays, funnily enough.
Me too.
We don't talk much.
--'Rage after convenience' was the name of...this one."
Adding, "This dream."
(Only in context
and not even then!
does it make any sense for an outsider.)
"Don't take that personally."


She yells, "I loved you through it all!"
and he stops.
''Sign the wire with love,''         ---(hemingway)
     he smirks.
''or with Washington Irving's name,''         ---(catchtwenty2)
''or with any of the other books you're so into these days!"


Thursday, October 17

cheating and watching:

creating and watching:
(give me just a second)
i love all the time we've spent trying to make something of an emotion that we all have
we all have it but when we can't be normal like the rest
we need these problems to
se[e]-[t] us apart.
set me a   p         a                  r                                       t. please!!!!!!
the feeling a
the turmoil--theyre inside and if icouldbut touch the rim the edge the fringe the BORDER of the brink!!--..
was never so sweet
as when i was
Dragging my feet and Hitting myself.
when i was
breathing in
and out
Where it may fog up and sweeten me,
Like it's all I ever needed for my.

(give me just a minute)
and then when i'm breathing out,
it embeds itself into the rest of the fabric of
"it all."


Wednesday, October 9


He says it could have been something i said
or did
or didn't do
that drove [them] out of my life.

i'm getting really hot so i turn away and swallow this little white pill that i have.

"you're being rude. I'm trying to help you," he says.

i know that and press my palms into my eyes until they ache.

i ache.

my eyes are dull and i don't know how to be happy anymore.

He sits down on the floor next to me and i think he might hold my hand, but he'll never do that.

"Let's go grab a drink."

i don't say anything.

"It'll help," he promises.

i know that too.

"I've never broken a promise to you." He says he's not like him [them]. "Give Me more credit."

i don't give him anything because the white pill is starting to work and i'm finally in a white place where he [they] can't come.


Wednesday, October 2


DAMNED be my folly!
and TO HELL with those expectations!

The other day, I turned the devil away
like a friend I didn't know how to take care of anymore
or an old lover that stopped taking care of me.
He got mean and I could feel it

In the arms of my parents--
In the arms of the most real love I've known--
I saw the meanest
and mostpathetic
thing look at me
into my eyes-----------------
in some darkness that I've made

it [he] looked at me
and left
--'''___without a fight_-"-- which
worries me
more than anything else.

I could be done with my roving.
With my rOving, wAndering, and wOndering
for noW.

I just need someone to cut me some slackkk k     k             k?


Thursday, September 19

suffice '-''-_tu sais

I started writing a poem about a boy
who wrote a poem about a girl,
but then it started to bother me to
think of him
thinking of me...

thinking of this other girl.


Sunday, September 1


there was no way for them to know if He
hear their conversation
so she talked about Him as if she
hurt His feelings
which she [strongly][believed] she



Saturday, August 10


        "Rae, do you believe in the nature of good vs. evil?"

        "Well," I start, caught off guard. "I guess the first thing that comes to my mind is that in Greek literature, good and evil existed before anything else did. It's such a central theme that you hardly come across a myth that doesn't include, if not revolve around it. That's probably not just Greek mythology, but the vast majority of others, too. To answer your question though, I've never really considered how much I do believe in the nature of good vs. evil. It's both a rewarding and comforting concept and I have gotten into the habit of believing in things that are rewarding and comforting." 

        "Are you thinking too much?" I say instead.

        "Yes," he answers honestly.
        "Don't get to yourself, okay?"
        "I know, I know," he presses his fist to his forehead. Five minutes later: "God, I wish I was normal sometimes."

        "What the hell is normal?" I want to slap him. "I'm not going to let you be sorry for yourself. We have these problems no matter what, so, sure, we can say we have the right to be pathetic and helpless because of them and we can use them as excuses for our vices and reasons for our character, or we can own them. They might be what eventually make us powerful enough to get the better of them. We could be powerful people--we can be the GOOD here--don't you see that? Just get it over with and own up to who you are so you can start realizing what you have to lose." 

        "Hey," I pull his hand down and hold it. "Not to be harsh, but you shouldn't pity yourself. You are what you are"  "and I love you regardless."


Thursday, August 8

You won't be reading this.

Dear Chief,

            The minute I woke up this morning, I remembered that you were already married.
            My biggest fear used to be that I would run into her and she wouldn't know my name, not even as an old friend of yours. That I would be lost in your history somewhere. I wish I could believe that she absolutely doesn't appreciate what she has when she's with you, but of course she does.
            I hope you feel the same peace while loving her as I felt while I was loving you. 

            I'm so tired that I can't be angry about it anymore, and the good memories are starting to stand out again. Like when we kissed for the first time and just stared at each other in shock. Or when I told you I loved you and you smiled and gave me one of those bear hugs even though we were screaming and swearing at each other moments before. Or the time you held my hand when this song started playing and I couldn't stop crying because you had already ended things between us a month before, but I still wanted to marry you.

            None of that really matters much though; you won't be reading this.

            It's been a year, so I want to assume that my still loving you falls under the category of "old habits die hard." I can't wait until it's over, because when I no doubt see you on campus once school starts again, I want to smile for you and mean it. I'm going to mean it. I promise.


Monday, August 5

May I?

The weather warns me of an ultimatum
and I think I can't wait much longer.


            She walks up to him at one or two in the morning. He ignores her and watches the pink moon with his hands in his pockets until she reaches for him.

            "You have such a serene look on your face," she says, touching it.

            He puts his hand on top of hers and holds it to his cheek for a moment, breathing deeply. Then he pulls her hand down and puts his back in his pocket.

            "Someone needs to take me away from this," he says, eyes wide open. "Someone damned like me, and we'll be together in our everliving--"

            (she has never hated herself more for loving him
            than she did in this moment)

"--I think I can't wait much longer," he whispers.


Saturday, July 13


"you're out of your mind,"
he says.

he says, "you may be out of your mind,
but there is a
guy who
is looking for a girl
with green eyes and a sad mouth and a pretty body
who cares too much
about her shoes
who admits to not appreciating
the gross or heavy books she reads...
            and is crazy.
and you'll
forget about me once you find each other.
i'm not worried."

     i'm not worried.

she stands up
walks him to the door
and says,
"i'm sorry,"

he says
and lets her kiss him because
he loves her
and because he thinks it might be the last time he gets the chance to.

she watches him disappear down the hallway,
then she takes a gross book from her
and carefully begins          cutting out the pages
so she can
fold them into
roses and cranes.


The four-way-stop phenomenon

            I feel oddly at peace with humanity when we are all working together at a four-way-stop. When we unite to achieve a common goal. We're cordial. We wave to others to go first before proceeding ourselves.

__--_--                  _____
You've no doubt found yourself in the following situation:

1) The Realization: the strangers recognize their common path.
2) The Downward Spiral: The strangers try in vain to side-step around one another, only to discover that their movements are being inadvertently mimicked.
3) The Encounter: When close enough, one stranger will eventually give up, chuckle at the absurdity of it all, and lead the other by the shoulders to a new path.
4) The Recovery: Any embarrassment after the event quickly subsides when they consider that the other person feels just as foolish.
            I like to think that we subconsciously work together in situations like this to achieve a common goal: the crossing of the road or the brisk abolishment of an awkward tango.
            In my case today, the common goal should have been the avoidance of an uncomfortable meeting. But every now and then, one will have the unfortunate realization that there exists a human being that dismisses all social cues and crushes the four-way-stop phenomenon like...something delightfully fragile.

            I don't necessarily consider my time spent at the gym to be enjoyable; I go because I know it's good for me and I like to see results, which it generously gives to anyone who pays the monthly fee. I step in, shuffle around on the elliptical for an hour, and promptly see myself out.
            Today, in the middle of my episode of Friends, I discovered that someone who was included in my circle of friends from high school was just across the room sitting at the check-in counter. A thick horror dawned on me when I saw that I caught his eye and he took that as an invitation. Despite my hasty focus back to my show, he sauntered his tall, handsome, loathsome self over and leaned next to my TV screen.
           Allow me to explain: the reason that I was less than eager to catch up with this guy was that, simply put, he was a stupid jerk. We never enjoyed each other's company and actually went out of our way to have little spats that usually consisted of me going after his lack of class, and he going after my lack of social normalcy. We had no reason to be talking to each other now.

          The conversation began.

          Oh, how I wish you could feel this particular discomfort! The kind that is having no motive or reason to impress a person, but having the inescapable desire to do so anyway. My dripping make up from work was being caked to my face like ashes. My breath was coming out in shallow huffs, so I could only manage to give him head movements and sounds to make it clear that I was  aware of his presence. But I would not get off the machine. No, for that would instill in him the sense of power and permission to continue the dreadful conversation, that, you might remember, was not obligatory at all.
          My realization of that truth coupled with the fact he was insisting that we have this encounter regardless hit me with a surprisingly forceful amount of resentment. The only joy he could possibly be getting out of the situation was that it was vexing me to the point where my grinding teeth could have very well been heard over the whir of machines and televisions.

          The conversation ended, and he left. 
          I couldn't tell you one thing that he said to me.

          In a sour and spiteful mood, I drove home. When I approached the intersection by my house at the same time as three other vehicles, I threw all cordiality out the open windows and plowed through the street, laughing at them all the way.

          If he can shatter the phenomenon, why can't I?


Thursday, June 20

Of Desirable Objects

Seeing the moon when it's still light outside is always strange.
It's as if the night just can't wait any longer to come out
      with all it's mysteries
      and fright.

          I can feel little ghosts of creepy-crawlies on my legs, like they can't wait to emerge either.
Something shifts in the vines behind me. To my relief, it's just the cat and he hops out to join me on the bench.
          If I could stop being afraid of the dark...that is, if I didn't have to be awake when it falls, it'd be much easier to give the cat a scratch behind the ears and lock the front door behind me. It'd be much easier for me to leave this empty and beautiful house, with it's familiar creaks and shadows--even the poltergeist that walks around upstairs feels safe. Like home. But I'm trying to be an adult here, and in a minute I need to drive back to my house. The one that has all of those awkward ankles and low ceilings and the doors that slam.

          Most of my time writing this has been spent listening and looking behind my shoulder. More sounds are starting to surface and my cat's eyes are beginning to glow.
          Even though I'm not wearing enough to keep from being just a little chilly, I think I'll try to stay out here until night completely takes over.
          I can do that much.


   Look...I'm not photographer. I usually leave that to Claire and Christopher.

Wednesday, June 12

Without those shoes

          Allow me to be straight up with you from here on out: I'm very sad. I'm aware that my posts for the past... well, year have been riddled with some combination of angst, and bitterness, and darkness, and I am so sorry. I want to shake it off, but trying to be optimistic is utterly exhausting when I'd give almost anything just to sleep off the days until The Blues pass.

          I don't sulk and wear heavy black eyeliner and creep people out in coffee shops while writing poetry in a cursed-looking leather notebook. (Okay, full disclosure: I do wear a lot of black eyeliner.) Quite the opposite, actually. I like to think that I'm an approachable person and a engaging conversationalist. I know that I entertain everyone at work, like, 24/7, which is why it's difficult to make people understand that It's still inside me. (The Sadness, that is.)

         Logically, you'd think the frequency of my depressive and/or terrorizing episodes might diminish their severity. It seems like everyone, myself included, is getting tired of caring for me or taking me seriously. I don't blame anyone for this. It is all getting SO.OLD.
         I look at what is happening to me and I'm so over it that it's all I can do not to ask everyone to join me in a insolent and moving round of applause. We'd all point and laugh, saying, "Here she goes again! Here's that WOE that she's so good at!" 

          My indulging makes It worse, if anything. My soft, tender approach is not enough. Perhaps a controlled dose of cynicism could scare It off. Maybejustmaybe we could boo It offstage. (The Woe, that is.) Would you help me?


Thursday, June 6

'A' is for Absolution.

'B' is for Brighten.

I'm waiting for the darkness that's been clouding my mind to dissolve and make room for [something]--'--'------I vaguely recall.

          I do remember how it feels to fall asleep with good feelings and accomplishment. Just the smallest hint of satisfaction. I do recall catching my reflection in the mirror and not only being content with who would look back, but being proud.

          I'm waiting for myself to leave the house without seeing the perils from outside running at me. 

          I'm waiting for the shadows under my eyes and the tired look my skin has to liven up again.



          I'm waiting for the day when 
         I see pictures of old friends and old lovers et al. and 
           I can smile instead.
           I can be happy instead.

I can move on instead of
[anything but!!] this.


Wednesday, April 10


The sun wasn't up yet--
she liked to think that she was the only person in town awake at this time,
                      it was a secret to everyone else.

She had stayed up all night.
            Thinking about work the next morning--
            thinking about The Graduate--
            about how scary the dark is--
                          what it'd be like if things were different.
                              If he felt different.
                          If they both felt differently--
            about how much easier it would be to relax if she were in her own house and
      if she weren't sharing a bed.                                   
                                     but they just wanted to fall asleep next to someone.

The sun wasn't up yet--
she gathered her things to leave.
She kissed him, wishing he would open his eyes and share this secret with her.
"I love you," she reminded him. 

She lies awake for quite some time.
            Long after he's gone and fallen asleep.


Wednesday, February 27

Better Than __-Aye

            These days, there's gloom everywhere.
            Have you felt it? I can't stand it.

            So last night, I was thinking that February...bites some major concrete. I began to troubleshoot the problem so that March could be an improvement. 
            "Let's get to the root of this," I thought to myself. "What is the most general thing that needs to change?" Then I can work down to some manageable specifics.

Next month, I want to be happy--not happier--I want to be the first place.
I want to be happy.
I want to stop being so damn unhappy, you know?

            Today at work, I was visiting a semi-obnoxious table with a baby that had been making general (and loud) baby noises the whole evening. When I put my hand on the table, he immediately put his hand on top of mine and smiled up at me.
Cue sepia tone.  The chorus to I Hope You Dance
I'm being very serious.
Do you even know how soft baby hands are? It's incredible. 
            In the few seconds before his parents pulled his hand away, I mused about the fact that the tiny baby hands will start holding stuff and doing all sorts of things to get just a little bit tougher. Of course this is good; they'll be stronger and he'll be able to handle harder things. 
            Then I thought about how bold he was to grab my hand in the first place, especially compared to his older brother who shied away from me when I asked him how his pancakes were. Unfortunately, the soft, adorable part of baby will also toughen up. That sure trust he has with everyone will disappear and he'll be able to protect himself from random strangers. He'll learn that touching people's hands is just not something you do, no matter how good it feels sometimes. He'll grow up.
            But for right now, it's whatever. Sure, let me hold your hand just because I can!
            Tyler Durden once said, "A moment was all you could ever expect from perfection."
            How perfect was this moment though?
            Instead of trying to communicate to the parents that their baby had just healed a shriveled, blackened part of me I had previously believed to be forever maimed by the world forcing me into their den of cynicism and despair, I said, "Well, hello, tiny one. Thank you for that."

            Next month, I'll hold more babies.


Thursday, January 24

ə hol ʌðəɹ θiŋ ɛntaɪɹli

"Where did you go?" sobbed the tortoise as it's creator came into view after a long while.
"Away," said the tortoise's creator quietly. "I left when you asked me to."
"I'm so sorry," said the tortoise, crying and hiding it's face. "I don't want to disappoint you anymore."
"No need for words," said the tortoise's creator, crying with the tortoise and making sure the tortoise took deep breaths. "You were already forgiven. I've never loved you more than I love you now."