Terror Watch

As I read my plot synopsis aloud to my mother a while back, I realized, Shit, this is just another vampire story. I mean, and I make it that much harder on myself because the "evil" can't be magically explained.

For a while I struggled with how I felt about that, but now I think that adding an element of satire on the Vampire love interest phenomenon is a wonderful idea. It gives me a lot of freedom to make the story as grandiose and otherworldly as possible.

The Vampire archetype as a love interest has existed for a very long time now, and I think the Terror Watch project will allow me to examine a lot of the sociocultural elements that explain why those untamed, dangerous bastards are the men that a woman will end up doing stupid stupid things over. And fuck it, ya know, I was totally one of those pre-teen/teenage girls who wanted a god damn vampire.

And now I think that by submitting to the cliche I have a template to work from and therefore have made things much easier on myself.

At this point I still haven't really started writing it yet but I am always thinking about it. I'm having a lot of trouble starting somewhere because I don't want to begin a piece on poor foundation. I know it's important to just start typing and see where a story takes you, but when I do that I lose track of what I want the project to be about.

Laura

Remember red short summers
and staying up all night? And I guess
I've been a bummer 'cause I'm always
high and girl I'm sorry that I'm always
right

There was a time when you brought me
along into battle, taught me how to be
a weekend warrior
you knew the game like a nobel laureate

You're where my mind goes in psych class
discussing disorders
I raise my hand and say,
"My best friend Laura.."
 
American Spirit cigarettes, late nights at the lake
chevy cobalt cruisin
grape ape
gettin baaaked

Remember red short summers, and staying up all night?
walking places just to find
things to buy? And I guess
I've been a bummer 'cause I'm always
high and girl I'm sorry that I'm always
right

Its hard not to read into things

when coincidences have this strong of symmetry.

The People I Love and It’s Easier To Find Something If You Know What You’re Looking For

She wants her future mate to be beautiful and a bit androgynous. She wants him to love good music, and hearing new music. She wants them double or triple their libraries just through knowing each other. She wants him to be stylish because she's shallow that way. She wants him to have a loud personality that she can amplify. She knows this: she is impressionable but no one is impressing her. 

She wants to see him in the daytime, and outside the walls of her room. She wants to meet his friends, and she wants them to like her and feel glad that he met someone as good for him as she will be. Every now and then, they should want her to hang out with the guys. 

She wants to go to concerts together, go see plays and art openings and be artists together. She wants to know that she has someone who has to feel bad for her when she has petty problems, and also someone whose job it is to comfort her. She wants someone to be her default person to go do things with, someone with whom plans are always tentative. 

She wants him to call her first every now and then.

Ugh. It’s not like she wants to see him every day. She doesn’t want to pull him away from his community. She doesn’t want to be clingy or needy, she just wants to be mutually adored, pursued, and wanted by him.

She wants him to know the best thing he could ever do for her is stroke her skin and play with her hair. She wants him to know that she would go with him on any adventure he set out for. She wants him to know that her poker face hides a girl who believes in justice and romance, a giggly little six year old who wanted to be a princess. Not the broken, abused individual he might think she'd try to mask. She wants him to understand why the first is so much more embarrassing to her. 

And I guess she really wants him to know that she’ll write you lyrics if he'll write music.

And I guess she really wants him to know that she’ll write you a script if he'll play the lead.

And I guess she really wants him to know that she'll sing for you if he’ll play guitar.

And I guess she really wants him to know that she'll direct a video if you find her the right project.

And she wants them to always feel relaxed around each other, because when he's tense she'll give him long sensual massages and when she's tense he can hold her in his arms and play with her hair.

She wants to feel comfortable asking him for things, and even more she wants to feel comfortable giving him things.

She wants them to go cool places together, talk to new people they’d never have met otherwise, have completely novel experiences. She wants to write a love story without having to edit him out, without having to make it totally different even when it’s based on things he said to her or how he made her feel.

She wants to know him better. She wants to know how to read what he wants, know what he's thinking. She doesn’t want to feel a panic, like she's on the verge of losing him when he's with other girls. She can’t mind if he has other flings, but god damn it she wants to be number one.

They have two minds that she thinks would mesh well together, but she needs guidance. She needs inspiration. She needs structure. She needs community.

And she's so sick of it. She doesn’t want to hook up with every other guy. Even when they’re hot. She wants to be able to be like, “Nah, I’m with someone, and I’m in love.”  

She wants to steal his clothes, and she wants her bed to smell like him. She wants her skin stained with bites and hickeys. She wants to cum for him. She wants us to do every exploratory kinky sex act they possibly could as long as they don’t get into like, blood urine and scat.

She wants them to explore odd little pieces of nature, get drunk at remote bonfires, party like teenagers. She wants them to go places where she can wear cute things. She wants him to have plans for things for them to do. She likes being in control, but she also needs a flow to go along with.

She wants them to be in love. She wants it so bad. That means: she wants him to miss her when he doesn't see her for a while, and hear her in the lyrics of songs he listens to.

She wants him to believe in her, and work with her on projects. And let her work with him on his.

She exists to be changed by the people she meets, the people who take space in her life. She wants him to be the adaptive force that makes her evolve into something amazing.  

She doesn’t want him to complete her. He can't. She says, "I am already complete. In fact I’m overwhelmed by me. I need to give some of me away."

Better

Not The Sun

"Please make the technology
So I can turn up your love like some cold machine
Don't feed me scraps from your bed
I won't be the stray coming back just to be fed

Don't be waves
Come to seal my fate marine
Just pretend that you want me
To be my bait
To be my

Well don't be that note I can't hold
Well don't be that joke that I told and told 'til it got old
Don't be that hand 'round my throat so I can't breathe
Say you're my friend but why won't you be my family?

And if you break
Just don't tell me
To be my bait

To be my dream
Tell me you know what I mean
(Prove me wrong)
You set on me but you are not the sun
You are not the sun

Outside your cold lips again
You set on me but you are not the sun
You are not the sun
You are not the sun

Just pretend that you love me
And be my bait
To be my bait"

And Matrices

I just experienced a strange instance of deja vu, and immediately the thought I had was 'oh, Matrix is resetting itself'.
And so, I breathed a heavy sigh and thought 'Isn't that a relief?' like somehow, the system must be overloading and that's why I'm so volatile and tense and angry lately.
I don't believe in things, but I still let the thought relax me.

Shit and Stress and Shit

I feel terribly unhappy lately.

Saw Alexis Texas with my girls at Dreamgirls tonight

Seattle bitches hollllllarrrr

Repost

At some point when I thought I'd be more proactive about learning web coding, I removed a lot of old posts that I meant to eventually put back at some point so I'm going to slowly start doing so with some of the better ones. 


I had a lot of trouble coming up with a title for this piece in particular, nor do I remember quite when I wrote it.

There’s something to be said about pride. I would hold her in my hands, I would trap her underneath the weight of my sternum, and I would listen to her breath catch. I learned quickly that I couldn’t hurt her emotionally, so it was some sort of affirmation when I realized I could crush her in my arms. I could squeeze her lifeless, make her limp, make her cold, leave her naked on a pile of books and magazines and clothes on her floor and who knows how long it’d take for anyone to find her.

I didn’t. I mean, I wouldn’t. Even when she’s naked and her clavicle pokes through beneath her paper body and she looks so goddamn breakable. I just hug her tighter, closer to me, feeling the heat of her skin. I feel her humanity under my fingertips. Her lips, her breath stain my skin. She has sharp teeth and sharp bones and she folds herself up tiny like she’d fit inside herself and she gives herself to me like a present.

She told me once that her favorite thing about the winter time was wearing short dresses on cold nights. She once told me that she would rather die than ever be in love again. She once told me that she knew I didn’t last long to prolong her pleasure, I just had trouble finishing. I leave her house with gold rings on my dick from her lipstick. I leave her house trembling and nauseous, wishing she had asked me to stay.

There’s something to be said about pride. There’s something to be said about doing well in a game you don’t even know the rules to. There’s something to be said about making a woman like that scream beneath you. There’s something kind of sad about being too timid to ask her what she’s thinking about.

She pipes up, “I am a mirror,” and doesn’t elaborate. I tell her she’s an earth quake. She says she’s a syringe. She says, men like you tend to get addicted.

She has whipped cream on her finger and my want for her crystallizes like sugar god it makes my teeth hurt.

I know there are a million things I’ll never know about her and she teases me with hints of secrets, dangled above me like feathers on a string.

I see her smile light up her face super bright and she’s floaty like a cloud of hot air balloons. I say I just want to see her happy, but the thing is I think she might already be happy.

Instead, I kind of just want to see her bleed.

These Are Lies But

I want you to ruin me I want you to ruin me
Make a huge mess of me make a huge mess of me
'cause who are you when you have everything?
who are you when you have everything?

Break my heart betray me I long to feel depraved torn apart and fading I revel in the ache

You'll be the death of me you'll be the death of me
I'll give you the best of me, just take the breath from me
No where's too far when you don't have anything
I want to have scars and experience everything

I want you to ruin me I want you to ruin me
A pheonix rises from nothing
'Cause who are you if you have everything?
who are you if you have everything?

Break my heart betray me I long to feel depraved torn apart and fading I revel in the ache

Thank you for this pain I feel it
strengthening

'Cause who are you if you have everything?
if you have everything?

I'm in a panic right now because I can't remember if my old Archie Comics are in storage or if I recycled them.

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Because This Is What Mystics Have Told Me

She can remember a scene of ethereal lights
and watching him convey a prophecy
Fate sits a top a mountain
of weapons and human bones

She wonders if she'll ever finish
or if that's something
else, like a destiny or a character flaw

she wonders what is so
appealing to her about
keeping all the threads loose

It's been a surreal week
like a magnet being pulled the whole time-- a sort of odd feeling,
manifesting as a physical heaviness in her stomach.

Coincidences seem meaningful
all of a sudden.
And they are many, aren't they?

Though she's never believed in destiny
or in miracles she
definitely feels like something is happening
and she's in the middle of it and it is out of her control.

she meditates in her tall towers,
she mediates fights between the working
class and the girls who only like to party
she says thank you even when the server is rude to her

she wonders why, if this feeling is called emptiness,
it weighs upon her so heavily

"I'm telling you, it's fate," she argues,
unable to keep her hands still.
She cannot quantify why she feels this way.
"Fate is what you call it when you don't want
to responsible for making choices
with your pussy instead of your head."

"Like I said. Fate."

She spends the week in a daze, wanting.
Waiting to be pulled in any sort of direction.
"When it comes time to choose," she begins,
and never concludes her thought


She wonders if she'll ever finish
or if that's something
else, like a destiny or a character flaw

she wonders what is so
appealing to her about
keeping all the threads loose

She can remember a scene of ethereal lights
and he seemed smaller than he was,
conveying this prophecy

"Just wait until October," he says
stealing kisses and words from her mouth
to give away to her king

"Your love is a fire," he warns,
"one of you will completely consume
the other
and you will have to decide which
of the two of you is worth more."

Fate fingers the edge of an axe,
"We appear to be at an impasse," fate
only comes calling at vampiric hours
"Give me back my heart," she begs of him

She wonders if she'll ever finish
or if that's something
else, like a destiny or a character flaw

she wonders what is so
appealing to her about
keeping all the threads loose

good

Today I dyed my hair brown, investeded in new pillows and a new blanket, sat and read in the sun. Bear got scared of ducks that walk around where I live. I bought new panties. I played my guitar. The weather was warm. I purchased another 12 pack of condoms. I don't like the twisted pleasure sensations that I purchased last time I went condom shopping. They were on sale but I resisted going for them again. I was blazin all day. I did my laundry. I did my hw. I got hollared at from car windows and from teenage boys in groups in parking lots. I ran into Ume walking around my condos. He trilled at me the whole way home. I masturbated in bed. In the middle of the day. I thought about important things while I did, which helped me think but didnt help me finish. I thought about falling in love and handguns and plot devices and cliches and twists and turns and the sociopolitical condition of femininity and also about how awesome Cowboy Bebop was and how I need to borrow it from my mom.

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Greek-coloured huntress

Predatory female
in estrus
and you smell so
good


And her love, ludic
it may be a game to her
but she's playing
to win you

And her love, storgic
it may the end of her,
but she longs to be there
for you

And her love, manic,
like pale skin craves sunlight
she just wants to own and
dominate you

And her love, pragmatic,
it brings out the best of her
and she just wants
to share with you

And her love, erotic,
it stirs such passion in her
it would bring her delight
its all she would like
to make you feel good

And her love, agape,
like she's custom made for you,
and she wants to make
everything good for you

it would bring her delight
its all she would like
to be what is good for you

James

THIS IS WHY I HAVE OTHER PEOPLE HELP ME DO SHIT

in the process of trying to restring my guitar, I broke the new string

Drawing Day

Break my heart/betray me/ I long to feel depraved// torn apart/and fading/ I revel in the ache

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the less guys I hook up with

The fewer pageviews the blog gets

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