Alabama, Arkansas...!

February's Expense
Spring is in the wind, today. I can feel her tearing at my flesh, pulling each woolly hair out, strand by strand. Joseph, make your coat. My footprints echo the splashing of tears when the sun is woken, and the bursts of light are caught in curls too tightly sprung for this kind of weather. Oh, oh, oh it is like running on piano keys, can you hear it? The music is strained and taut like the violin strings of the veins of leaves; I hide here. Everything is pressed and dressed, ironed to a finery I can only see with eyes closed. The breeze tells me the stories the dust of old bones are too shy to admit to and I eat every word like a scalloped shell; the lump in my throat is too much, chew before I swallow a regret I could never name. I am dancing, the feet are alive. But...

...(there is so much I will never tell you. Buried with time, stolen with age, keep quiet and still. How could I lie? Should you peel the layers, you will find the heart of the matter, but the layers provide a warmth you will never know. I pray that I do not offend you here, but what is the question? AGAIN, it's the rush, you say, but one cannot trust the piper. Your hands are caked in a blood that is not red, I cannot see. But it is there. Heal your wounds, they bleed onto me. I cannot be your bandage now, I cannot clip my wings for you too see)....

...(there is so much I believe in, but there is only so much I can believe in. You, foe, are not an aide, but an inhalant, so I breathe you deep. You burn the hairs of my throat, you thrash and crash into my stomach, swallowed by my fears that singe your truths for the jokes they are. The jokes, the jokes. They tumble out your mouth like dust clouds, and trust me, I have tasted truth; it is history cremated. My eyes burn from tears that are too offended to fall)....

...but after all, it is a beautiful day.

xoxoxoxox


What an exciting weekend. I was Team USA for the Beerolympics on Friday and danced my ass off last night here at Mount Holyoke. I legit feel like SHIT though, too much for poor widdle me. I am so looking forward to sleep. I am turning in early today.

I have decided to keep both blogs up and active. One, not this one, will be strictly for creative pieces, while this one will be me bitching and moaning and theorizing about why I am here and not there. So be it. This is me pretending to organize.

Oh fuck yes, "Lover's Spit" just came on. Such a fave.

Sushi on Thursday! I'm excited.

I have a few choice words on the topic of presentation. Will I ever be queer enough? Probably not. However, it you gauge that and refuse me, I feel for you. I understand our clothes, mannerisms, and actions denote and 'present' who we would like to be seen and taken in as, but it's bullshit. It's an art based on assumptions and falsities. It's an act. I am as true as I can be to me, myself and my tastes, but I will never cater to an image molded out for me. I am not here to please you, love, but me. If I ask you to dance, take it as a compliment, I am interested; deny me, and unfortunately, be lost. It's like that Hedwig quote: Deny me and be doomed! Love it.

This doesn't end at sexual presentation, or gender presentation, but in general. Layer on the materials, the clothes, the jewelry, the accessories, the haircuts, the everything: you are still a bag of decaying matter. You all have started dying the moment you were born, and dressing yourselves in lies is an injustice. What is image? What is this impact you are trying to make? WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? Well, I don't even know. You may think your clothes speak volumes, but they don't. I'm no impressed and I don't speak the language.

On that note, I am so hungry. I hunger for meeting people with some depth to their personalities and souls. I want curiosity, I want amazement. I am so tired of bullshit arbitrary pretentious statements. I am sick of 'artists' of intellectuals and self proclaimed prophets. I am sick, sick, sick! You all leave me drained. Most of you aren't even in contact with the 'real world', and then, the other half of you have no base of thought to begin with! OI. I need an advil.

That ends that rant. End of story: don't judge people based on their material appearances and presentations. It's all bullshit.

Anyways, I leave this update on a positive swing. I am absolutely in love with my friends here and I am going to cry so hard when a couple of them graduate. I have made room for them in my life, and it's going to leave such a jarring hole in me when they leave. Thus is life; a constant trading of seats and friends. Emily, you are beautiful.

xoxo