Log in

No account? Create an account
Come, pull my strings. [entries|friends|calendar]
Strange, Too.

[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

[02 Nov 2011|05:10pm]
I saw bright, open
common sense-
I do evil things,
and evil things return
post comment

By the way: [14 Jun 2011|08:40am]
[ mood | excited ]

I find a(n extremely delayed) delight in this album. Of course I relate to this one the most, although I prefer to shake it to "Tear Garden". Either way, there really isn't any reason you shouldn't be listening to this album.

post comment

She was... an American Girl. [13 Jun 2011|09:03pm]
[ mood | predatory ]

Sometimes I forget that I was an asshole when I was younger.

Thank goodness I have LiveJournal to remind me.

Man, being a recluse certainly tampered with my firey little brain quite a bit. To think I used to be excited by drink and drugs and, worst of all, fucking for the sake of fucking. Vapid, clueless, and primitive to be polite. I won't launch into any new set of colorful adjectives. But I'm increasingly grateful that I chose life.

I've likened youth to madness many times over the last several years(a little nod to my idol, Stephen King). To my chagrin, mine's fading fast. Although on this topic, whether I mean the youth part or the madness part is uncertain.

After all... for all I've changed, I'm still myself.

post comment

Ignore please, friends. [02 Sep 2010|11:48am]
[ mood | tired ]

Current shipping turnaround is 1-3 business days. Feedback, wishlist, etc at the bottom of the perfume listing. Sales within the US only due to customs and Paypal policies, sorry! I may make exceptions for smaller purchases and I do swap almost anywhere, so try me. $10 minimum pre-shipping, please! "PEND" means an item is confirmed in a swap or sale and is likely unavailable. "POSS PEND" means the item is in negotiations but not gone yet.

Gigantic Perfume Post.Collapse )

17 comments|post comment

I'm still alive, you know. [30 Mar 2009|07:01pm]
[ mood | accomplished ]

I've got a Depeche Mode ticket for summer, a tattoo, an rx for Klonopin, and more importantly, a life.


It's good to be good, you know? Working, living, loving. Doing some taxes, doing some laundry, running some errands. Writing, reading, breathing. Life. Not so bad once you actually do it.

I can almost taste the summer.

post comment

Boredom. [26 Sep 2008|06:07pm]
[ mood | curious ]

Am I less interesting now that I've become more sane? Since I've figured life out and have begun to get things sorted, am I just plain old boring? I sometimes wonder if being a functional human being has made me a big fucking snooze.

post comment

1998 [25 Aug 2008|06:50am]
[ mood | crushed ]


1998. My mother was alive then, just a couple of years from developing the lump she'd ignore in her breast. Just a couple of years from dying.

1998. My mother was struggling to feed us(we were only two, then), working herself to death. We had an apartment in the low-income housing area of a nice city in southern California. Jeremy and I wanted for nothing, though both of us were aware that something was amiss. We had only eachother most afternoons and evenings. I'd cook him some dinner and we'd play Sega Genesis until I decided it was bedtime. Mom would come home from work, visibly exhausted, and tell us she loved us and go right to bed.

It was 1998. I'd certainly known pain by then. But I never, ever could've imagined the shards of it that'd tear me to pieces just two years later. And how it'd endure, an injury that'd want to speak with me whenever it was cold out. It's faded, sure, but still prone to flare-ups.

She died in the early morning of August 30th, 2000 in New York City. Her name was Jessica. She was 38 years old. My poor dear Jeremy was 6. Craig was 1. Jeremy had arrived with his father, John by plane just as she died. His plane was landing as she took her last breath. He never got to say goodbye. He just missed her. I'd never seen his father cry before that day.

My mother was cold when we got there. No one had told me she died. I had no idea where we were going that dark early morning until I was standing in front of her corpse. I was in shock. John was on his knees, holding my mother's poor rigor mortise inflicted hand, bawling and asking her "Why?". And she'd never answer, never ever.

And me? I'd never, ever forget my poor behaviour with her as she lay dying. Never ever forget making her cry because I didn't want to spend the night with her in the hospital. I couldn't cope. I'd never ever forget watching her vomit almost everything she ate up, though she tried to eat in front of me to please me. Tried to pretend she was okay. I'd never ever forget how the radiation shrunk her body. I'd never ever forget the cups and cups of pills she'd take in the hospital. Never ever forget her skin peeling off in sheets in her shower before she was hospitalised but after she was diagnosed. Never forget watching her beautiful body waste away, her nails fall off her fingers, her hair fall out of her head. Never, ever, ever forget.

And now? My pain is crystalline, little knives carved of ice and lodged right into my poor eggshell heart. And I can't... I can't change anything. I don't even know if I'd want to. I don't know why I feel obligated to do anything. It wouldn't matter, not really.

It just hurts so bad.

1 comment|post comment

Photographic Pictures [21 Aug 2008|08:03am]
[ mood | amused ]

These are from Byte, August 10th '08. Assorted photographers, mostly Jess(Indierotica).

Tre, Jared, Me. Basement level revelries.

More here.Collapse )

post comment

Why pamper life's complexity when the leather runs smooth on the passenger seat? [21 Aug 2008|02:43am]
[ mood | complacent ]

Oh, that's funny. That issue I was whining about in my last post resolved itself.

The moral of this story being that it pays to just calm the fuck down sometimes. I've come a long way but seem to be really incensed over lies or anything that even has potential to be truly damaging to me. Particularly when I'm innocent, which is most of the time nowadays.

Note to self: next time, drink a cup of tea and stop being such a little pussy. And drink more Jack and coke next time you go out stressed. And just let the boy(s) make out with you. It'll make you feel a lot better.

I can't believe I woke up anxiety riddled about accusations I knew weren't true when I had just had a great night out and was sleeping at my friend's house. There's really no excuse.

post comment

No internet. [04 Aug 2008|04:46pm]
[ mood | annoyed ]

I'm not avoiding anyone. I don't have any internet. Please don't think I'm flaking/angry/etc. I'm here, I'm alive, and mostly well, I'm just having issues pirating wireless connection. Tomorrow or the next day I'll have unlimited use to wrap up all my dues and say all my hellos and write an epic blog.

So yeah, don't worry, okay?

post comment

Try Walking in My Shoes. [29 Jul 2008|03:44pm]
[ mood | sad ]


post comment

Happiest Girl / Catching up with Depeche Mode. [25 Jul 2008|04:39am]
[ mood | ecstatic ]

I look crazy here because I totally fucking was. My arm is grotesquely elephantine. But aside from eye and arm malfunctions, this is the best photo of all time:


More, + the story of Fletch and Me.Collapse )

10 comments|post comment

...make it safe and clean. [14 Jul 2008|05:19pm]
[ mood | calm ]

Freshly bathed, clean and soft. My mind is much clearer, seemingly cleaned along with my body.

It occurs to me that I am not apathetic at all-- this sensation is actually pleasant. It's calm and collected knowledge, and the type that comes only with age. It's a weird sort of emotional maturity. It's sitting here relaxed, knowing with absolute certainty that this will pass, just like everything else. It's the very recent and enlightening knowledge that anyone that doesn't care about you isn't worth caring about. It's knowing that being polite and kind in all real-life endeavours never hurts and will indeed get you far. It's waiting before speaking or reacting.

I never thought I could describe myself as "calm" following such a turbulent life full of squalling and intense emotions. But I am, and it's nice.

2 comments|post comment

Be Careful. [30 Jun 2008|12:09am]
[ mood | grateful ]

This changed my life today. Or turned my sparkle of hope into a laserbeam, at the least. Because it's true. I guess I just needed a reminder.

I think I'm going to be okay. I think I love myself enough. And even if I didn't, my love is made whole by the input of others. The genuine, unwavering, freely and obnoxiously generously given love I now get every day of my life.

Please make sure to tell people that you love them if you do. It can make a difference. Of course there's more involved, but the very best thing you can give someone is love. Start with yourself, but be generous. Be honest. Be devoted.

Just fucking love someone.

1 comment|post comment

This is it. [23 Jun 2008|02:09pm]
[ mood | excited ]

If you're new to this party, you could guess which person in this photo is male and you'd be wrong.


This is only the best photo ever because you can't see my face. Ha.

post comment

Don't Come Around Here No More. [22 Jun 2008|10:10pm]
[ mood | moody ]

5 comments|post comment

Something to do. [19 Jun 2008|11:25am]
[ mood | sick ]

Setback last night. Massive breakdown, didn't go out. Quivering pile of snot and tears turning my white t-shirt translucent and making it cling to my skin. I did something bad, I think. I mean, to myself, accidentally.

My left eye isn't seeing right, and though both are puffy from crying, something seems wrong with it. It looks okay, no worse than the other, but feels heavy and strange. Conjunctivis is out of the question. Is it possible to cry enough to ruin your eyes? Or one eye?

I was supposed to get my passport Monday. It's Thursday. I promised myself, finally falling asleep last night, that I'd go get it today. But my eyes hurt, my head is pounding, and I have to go back to the post office again tomorrow, anyway. I am considering forcing myself out into the sun and humanity, but I don't think today can be saved somehow.

I feel overwhelming guilt at this small failure. I don't feel well at all.

I think I'm convincing myself that it's okay to not do anything today. Tomorrow promises to be infinitely better. Tomorrow is Trash!, and my good friends, and the weekend. I can go out in the afternoon, run my errands, eat a nice lunch/dinner by myself in the city, and meet up with David and Ashlyn for pre-game.

Crisis averted.

I bought a Depeche Mode imported Strangelove single when I was with my daddy last week. I think I'll listen to that. And get lunch, and watch some movies, and lie low. Maybe I'll take a nice shower with my new shampoo and body scrub, too, prepare for tomorrow so I can definitely get up early.

These things sound nice, and I am comforted by my own writing.

1 comment|post comment

[18 Jun 2008|06:40pm]
[ mood | tired ]

There is a certain relief in being rid of relentlessly evil twats that is so nice, it cures hangovers. Or so I try to convince myself, up in my loft guzzling copious amounts of water.

My two new best friends are trying, most seductively, to get me to go out tonight. Again. After I bumped into and hung out with the boy half(who is so beautiful that less intelligent people have to ask if he's a boy or a girl) LAST night. They tempt me, my beautiful and amazing and fun friends.

Oh, who am I? I am not above temptation.

post comment

Phantasmagoria. [16 Jun 2008|10:40am]
[ mood | sick ]

I fail to realise that much like the protagonist in my favourite book, American Psycho, there are many people beyond help or even simple kindness. There are always people who will not, can not respond or comprehend decent human behaviour.

Why this upsets me so much, I am unsure. I am beyond merely sad, I am actually ill physically: my stomach an angry knot, my limbs tense and shaking, my eyes watering with tears. Further aiding my disease, the logic that I shouldn't be so hurt does not evade me.

I had dinner with Brian and his mom outside in their backyard last night. And it was good, and there was love. I have a lot of good things to look forward to. My phone was deluged with text messages from my friends professing love and desire and then "anger" over me not going out last night. Plenty of people love and care for me. I am not alone, and even if I was, I've been belatedly, but definitely given the tools needed to survive if not flourish.

I can't seem to accept that not everyone will like me or at least not think badly of me. I know this is a juvenile, romantic notion, wish, but I am genuinely upset and should probably face it so as better to get over it. Furthermore, making me feel even worse: does this mean I am ungrateful for the amazing and ultimately rare amount of love and care I receive on a daily basis?

I feel fragile, knowing that now the core of my problems in life amounts to, in essence, phantasmagoria. I am a self-imposed martyr, Janessa of Arc, and in the end my biggest problem is probably me, myself: relentless self saboteur.

God, I sound so pretentious sometimes.

post comment

Psycho-Magnet. [15 Jun 2008|05:51am]
[ mood | okay ]

Even on my best behaviour, I am a what Brian calls a "psycho-magnet".

Especially on my best behaviour, I am a psycho-magnet.

Oddly, this is a strengthening tonic on my own sanity. I've learned to absorb such matter and use it to make various repairs on my naturally poor structure. And in the end...

I am rewarded with finally attracting real, good, nice people who actually like me. I have friends everywhere I go. This is an amazing reward, and quite possibly the best I could think of.

Now if only I could adequately program it into my databank not to be so hurt or traumatised by the harsh encounters, even if just initially. If I could just remember and utilise this sage advice, maybe I'd function even better.

Friday was insane, but most importantly I had plenty of quality time in the arms of my good and beautiful friends, drunk and happy and not worried about a single thing.

6 comments|post comment

[ viewing | most recent entries ]
[ go | earlier ]