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"If you are a soul in here, how do you become a self out there? -
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For a city so big, New York is the loneliest place I know. I am taking this writing class, and everything I write is about home. I say, Tuscaloosa is my home of all homes. I write about my lake, the sticky summers, learning to dive. Critiques tell me that I am linking subject matter and not concepts. Everything I write is about home, but how do the ( Read more... ) -
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Things are settling down, and my days are going by so quickly. This past week has been the best of my life. I've spent every day surrounded by people that think I'm nice and pretty and compliment my summer-dresses. Here is everything I've done, but this is more for me than anyone else ( Read more... ) -
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My body is punishing me for the things that I've done. I have a heart murmur, a recurring fever, hallucinations. I have open sores and blisters and pus pockets all over my tonsils and the back of my throat. The doctors don't know what's wrong with me. They have given me shots and treatments in hoping that they've guessed it correctly. They are ( Read more... ) -
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Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not / Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither / Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, / Looking into the heart of light, the silence. / Oed' und leer das Meer.
I know that you are all probably really fucking tired of sea metaphors, and I am always talking about the sea, the ocean, the salt, the waves. Here ( Read more... ) -
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It is Tuesday, the sixth day of summer. I woke up at one this afternoon, and the sunlight was coming through my window just so, so I could see all the dust in the air. All the dust is part of me, has been my skin and hair, and it was a nice reminder to see myself floating around myself. Reminder of what, I am not quite sure yet. I heated up some ( Read more... )
