so tired and busy and tired of being busy and these daily migraines. tonight i came home from work to two slices of reheated four-cheese pizza and four episodes of changing rooms. god help me, i want to paint one of my green walls pink. for half a second the prospect of rooms for free dragged these thoughts up to a city i've never wanted to see ( Read more... )

when katie and i rode at pismo beach i always picked rojo, who was heedless and high strung, and who fell while i was on him, only i was so enthralled with the rippling of the sand dunes and the feel of this tall chestnut horse beneath me that i hardly flinched. so it was kind of funny to drive to the town of cerrillos last week and to find myself ( Read more... )

local newscasters informed me before work that this was the wind event of the season, and so it rained and hailed and snowed, wholly unremarkable but for their simultaneity. now feels like the residual winter of our discontent, except for the past few weeks i've felt mostly all right. new mexico is a strange, beautiful state, very much lacking in ( Read more... )

klussie has an extra digit on each of her front paws. they look like opposable thumbs. this, combined with her penchant for breathing as if underwater and asthmatic and dead, makes her awesome. i'm reading gabriel garcia marquez and thomas pynchon and writing you a letter that says quite a lot except on the subject of how sad you make me, ( Read more... )

my parents couldn't afford to buy groceries this week, which is sort of an odd feeling, because i've lived in the barrio and i've watched my mom fill out bankruptcy forms, but all of that was so long ago that i can trivialize the experience with long-winded abuse of the language that means almost everything to me, because it seems arrogant to ( Read more... )

the incongruity comes not from walking down palace's cracked sidewalks with flagstaff in tow, but the way our mouths still move with awkward slowness, words pouring out and dwarfing any physical clumsiness that might have broken the stillness. i adore them, but self-consciousness in others makes me doubly conscious of my own shortcomings when it ( Read more... )

i still don't understand why that buffalo tom song isn't on the my so-called life soundtrack ( Read more... )

it's hard to tell if the moments of dissatisfaction ought to be called flukes, because the current guise of contentment could be just as fleeting, right? i am more a mystery to myself than i probably should be. in any case, i wake up in the morning and watch the shadows of my mismatched curtains dance on the wall beside me and wonder if new ( Read more... )

So I guess it's the actual movie and not the making of Fitzcarraldo where someone learned to love again, because tonight I randomly caught "Burden of Dreams" on Sundance and there were mostly just a lot of jungle insults on Herzog's part. ("Klaus sees everything as erotic, but it's not. It's fornication!" said with such a nice accent as the ( Read more... )

sometimes it seems like enough just to make oneself understood ( Read more... )