pity platter

usually when i'm in self loathing mode, i try to name three things i like about myself but today is one of those days where everything i think is ugly and all i want to do is stay up late and watch cartoons. 

i want someone to watch cow and chicken with. i want chapstick, and i want to feel like i can change the world. 

Laundry: When A Roommate Came Along

Park Merceds laundry rooms are the most scariest and memorable things on the planet.  It looks like a scene out of saw but the machines looks like dorm room replicas, like the strange nostalgic days of back when i was a serial killer. 

My body feels so achy and confused and I like thinking about my roommates because they remind me of cake, bad movies and dancing. They are all so sweet and so real. I had a lot of fun last year but i got to admit i was sort of disappointed that i was gipped out of the real "buddy buddy" roommate experience that I always envied about pals. But I finally can say "hold on let me call my roommates and see if they want to hang out too" or "let me call my roommates and see if I'm doing dinner together".  Best of all, I have someone to go to Park Merced laundry room with. 

pains and gains

How could a phone conversation ever make me feel this...certain? I sit with cold toes wrapped in sock and boot, not sure what I'm so happy about but I think it has something to do with the end of my watery kate nash days. Its hard to translate mixed love signals with painful cuts and jags  but at the end of the day, its nice knowing where I stand at the end of the fight. How am I suppose to know where anything will go? I don't even know when my next meal will be. I don't know what I want, but I know I like you. 

I have to admit however,  it does bother me,  when you tell me that I have small hands, it bothers me when you say the word cockroach, I hate you telling me I need to wear my retainer more often, and that what I eat isn't adequate. 

yes, thank-you, I know that I may seem small and meek, and would probably lose in a fight, and I'm not nearly as tough as I'd hope. I know I will never be a stand-up comic. I know getting scared of growing up seems silly and I don't read the newspaper as often as I should. I know I have nothing certain and my future seems bleek. 

Even after your constant reminders about how my life will blow, I still sit here in my Good-Will $5 robe, knowing that I like you, and I'm happy. 

My decision to live fast and die young

Next door Debbie popped in for a sec to talk about her garden and how now that she's in her 5o's she's watching all her friends die and visits her sister at a nursing home. 

I know I'm 19, but I still feel like my parents should ask me politely to go play on the computer or go watch T.V. in my room whenever something this depressing occurs. My mom would look at my dad and silently spell out "d-e-a-t-h" while my dad would make a face that says this ridiculous but his mouth says "lets go get ice cream in the kitchen". 

Then I wake up and realize I understand the effects of chemo, how a tumor builds inside, like a ball of hate waiting to explode while your lungs and liver cry until the brain signals that its ok, they can give it a rest, and they slowly fall asleep until you all shut off and your thoughts and soul and effects on others and things begin to fade away. 

So I sit here, eating my pasta and meatballs, listening to Debbie talk about her ripe age and all the death that surrounds it as if its as common as cherry pie and all I can think about is how I should go to Europe and live among artist and vagrants, when what I should be doing is stop hating myself for getting old and forgive myself for growing up. 

All I know is that I should live fast and die young before death equals cherry pie.

If you weren't here, I think I would've made you up

Spending the summer wasting on ice cream, scam train fees, maracas, movies, celebrations and extremes. 

If you weren't here, I think I would've made you up

My mind and hands agree as they smell the familiarity of clean laundry and cats. Only ten, the night begins with me feeling endless and expandable. 

I want to stretch across horizons so I can touch every city in the world just once and never wonder. The pasadena film festival is tonight and I wonder if well go although my feet politely ask to reconsider this for a night of peace in front of a tv seeing as how they've trekked sand, up beat rockets, damp cloths and dancing affairs. They claim they are the sleepyheads from the Belle and Sebastian song and that makes me giggle.

Feet arent allowed to feel. 

 

Bad Bugs

shoop shoop do di do do

today i had a very bad experience with a bad bug.

Twiddling thumbs in sociology class i looked down and to my horror I found a cockroach looking up at me.  I couldn't speak or move but just stood up and started screaming and crying. 

My class looked at me and I ran out of the room shaky and embarrassed. 

I stood out there, trying to stop the tears and I couldn't help but wonder, why am I such a wimp? 

I looked at the underwear picture of me and jill and I felt happy as I tried to forget the horrors of today. 

san fran is calling me

*ring ring*

me: hello?
San francisco: hey its me
me: oh hi
san fran: i miss you
me: i miss you too
san fran: i wish you were here with me, it'd help to pass this long weekend
me: yeah id like that, its so hot here, i miss your foggy presence
san fran: haha thanks
me: no im really serious, the only thing that helps me now is ice cream and ice tea,
i never thought i'd say this, but i even miss your cool attitude.
san fran: even that?
me: that and more, i didnt remember home being a place of bigotry, i always saw you as overly politically correct at times...i mean...the whole olympics thing...but i kinda understand it now, especially after all of this strange Fred Phelps anti-gay stuff, i mean sheesh.
san fran: wow
me: yeah i just want to go home
san fran: we'll i'm not going anywhere
me: HAHA good one
san fran: yeah i know i know
me: its so small here too, i can't help but do the whole public transportation hating bit, and la mentality feels fake and plastic to me
san fran: yeah i hate that place it reminds me of everything sad in the world
me: i could understand why
san fran: so will i see you soon?
me: i have around two months left
san fran: alright
me: yeah...guess i'll talk to u then
san fran: sounds good
me: i'll miss you

*phone tone*