Pretentious talented boys are beautiful and scary, like highway ballet.
Pretentious talented girls are welcome to share my heart, my home and my head, as well as my books and music, so long as I can do the same in return. I've already got one for an impending roommate and I'm so so glad. Tiger lily battlezone ahead!

Iris - Nicole Blackman

Iris is writing a poem while I read the paper at her apartment.
she blows a cigarette ash right into her shoe.
it doesn't seem to bother her.

I read the peom later and it doesn't make much sense.
then again, nethier does she.
it's Sunday and I'm at her place again.

she plays Strauss and techno on the stereo
as people drop in on her all day long.
it's just that kind of place.
friends stop in and stay for dinner.
her roommate is dying but we don't talk about it.

(she's the one who fixes me when I'm falling apart-
stitches me back together with nicotine and tea)

she's the kind of girl that can make a dress
out of a garbage bag.
she always somehow looks better than I ever will.
there's a lot of drag queen in her.

I lend her books and give her CDs.
we borrow pens and money from eachother's bags.
we're beyond the permission phase.

she's not dating anyone now.
she gets cushes on guys and girls but nothing happens.

she travels to places I've only seen in magazines.
she's got friends with no last names.
you can't take a bad picture of her.
she falls out of bed and somehow looks glamorous.
I paint her toenails backstage before a show.
she's so pretty when she smiles.

we can finish each other's sentences.
she laughs a lot.

there's something wrong with her
but she won't say what it is.

she's the only friend who hasn't turned on me yet.
but she will.
they always do.

[hankie]
Someone paid to take the ads off this site and the old site. I love you! I have a hunch as to whom it might be... you get tacklehugged when I see you next, dearie. (Or is it dearies?) I know to hug brandon for the bluegirl... *happiness*
[/hankie]
The old battered brown i am a little black raincloud/get any closer and i'll eat you journalbook was laid to rest last night in a shower of sparklers and Ani lyrics. It was one very special retirement party, and I'm grateful to William and Sarrah for helping me pay homage to what has been my best book ever. I'm sorry to see it go, and might still keep it around for a while - at least until the move. In the meantime, brown book is being succeeded by black artbook, who has quite valiantly taken on the task and got off to a damp and dreary start on the 6th. Last night I dreamed an entire story and I have no clear sentences left.. maybe I should stick to film and not the page.

I still sing to you in my sleep, and give you the odd sly grin while I'm alone. What do you call an atheist who prays?

I gave sarrah quite a few words for her quest. Two words not included that should have been:
sleep
deprivation
~
anybody come up with some that I might have missed?

Got me watching your eyes watching things go by outside out the window of a train
The clock on my microwave says 2:47am, and I'm watching Christopher Walken dance around an empty hotel. Muted. Hannah & Gabi by the Lemonheads is making me feel better right now. A mixtape entitled Only Children with an A-side labeled don't forget is also making me feel better. Thanks.

I keep getting farther away from the place that makes me create and closer to the cool gentle place that lets me take in beauty without putting it out. When I'm in that hotcold tundra, cracking with dry heat and bitter freezing, the forming in writing feels good because it's necessary, but it bleeds me gone. Sometimes it's good just to be able to drink moonbeams and let the breeze lick me clean and new, a mother's tongue making me damp and safe.

I have three mothers and a few adopted ones, and they've all got their excellent points.. but I still haven't found a mommy. Even us toughgrrrl fighterchicks need mommies, and I want one.

Archives not working - not lost, but I will not put the entire career up on one page. Fond memories will have to do until I can get this fixed. Archives at bluegirl still all in order, a bit dusty but none the worse for wear. In the meantime, bouncing around webrings and diddling with code. Yeehah.

&anyone who loves me is more than welcome to rid matchgirl or bluegirl of ads. *batting of eyelashes here*

Poe - Control
[Haunted]

Don't you mess with a little girl's dream
'Cause she's liable to grow up mean

Surprised you to find that I'm laughing?
You thought that you'd find me in tears
You thought I'd be crawling the walls
Like a tiny mosquito and trembling in fear

Well you may be king for the moment
But I am a queen, understand
And I've got your pawns and your bishops and castles
All inside the palm of my hand

While you were looking the other way
While you had your eyes closed
While you were licking your lips
'Cause I was miserable
While you were selling your soul
While you were tearing a hole in me

I was taking control
Now I have taken control
Now I have taken control...

This is beginning to feel good
Watching you squirm in your shoes
A small bead of sweat on your brow
And a growl in your belly you're scared to let through

You thought you could keep me from loving
You thought you could feed on my soul
But while you were busy destroying my life
What was half in me has become whole

While you were looking the other way
While you had your eyes closed
While you were licking your lips
'Cause I was miserable
While you were selling your soul
While you were tearing a hole in me

I was taking control
Now I have taken control
Now I have taken control...

So this is how it feels
To breath in the summer air
The feel the sand between my toes
And love inside my ear
All those things that you taught me to fear
I've got them in my garden now
And you're not welcome here
Come here
Come a little bit closer
Let me look at you
I gave you the benefit
Of the doubt it's true
But keep in mind my darling
Not every saint is a fool

While you were looking the other way
While you had your eyes closed
While you were licking your lips
'Cause I was miserable
While you were selling your soul
While you were tearing a hole in me

I was taking control
Now I have taken control
Now I have taken control...

Don't you mess with me.

I just write sometimes, but brandon is a poet. and a biochem major. (what gives?) read the archives and the roadside debris, and deny it if you dare.

Callooh, callay, it's linkage day!
I love this place.

I also love WMNF, the best little radio station on the planet, for bringing all of these wonderful people to my dead-scene town. Natalie McMaster and Odetta *swoon* in the same month, and then Melissa Ferrick, and in August - the Elvis Costello birthday tribute.

cbgb also happens to rock all the oceans on the planet. (given that our blood is just like the atlantic... wait, wrong band.)

I am a sheep. baaa.

Paranoid: High
Schizoid: Moderate
Schizotypal: Very High
Antisocial: High
Borderline: Very High
Histrionic: Very High
Narcissistic: Very High
Avoidant: Moderate
Dependent: High
Obsessive-Compulsive: High

Apparently, I'm a headcase too. Web surveys tell all, you know. (Me, even moderately antisocial? They've got to be kidding. I love the omnipresent "They" who run the online mental health surveys quoted by millions of teenagers everywhere, all convinced of their collective clinical psychosis. Click here for diagnosis... we'd all be better off going here for our verdicts.)

reverse transcription

girando e girando, cascando e cascando... paper entries from July 6th & 7th can be found here. I had them up here but they're not very nice. Little girl whining.

Purity. It can be wrong and pure, evil and pure, dead or alive, but pure and of itself. That's what's most important. Awful in its flawlessness; an angel, all malice and cold. Pure.

((love you too, m.))

Being is sufficient.
Being is All.
The cheerful, sunny self you are missing
will return,
as it always does,
but only being will bring it back."
-Alice Walker

Je pense que peut-être je suis en amour. ou quelquechose du genre. avec toi. m.

She was into S&M and bible study - not everyone's cup of tea, she would admit to me...

On a Belle and Sebastian run. Meantime, I'm wearing my new Violator shirt and working on an account of last night's Depeche Mode experience to be linked here in a bit. I promise not to put the whole thing up here lest it kill those non-DM fanatics out there with the treacle about to be let loose on l'internet... but two photos must go here, just to illustrate.

~

photos courtesy of depechemode.com. danke.

I think it's perfectly clear...

sarrah and elegy, both already on my Wonderful Women list, have just ensured their places at the top by sponsoring RAINN via this webberlogg. The three of us have very similar reasons for wanting to support this particular organization, and it means the world to me.


The blogathon runs for 24 hours starting July 28th at 12pm, PST, and I along with elegy and sarrah and so many others (over 100 and counting!) will be posting every half hour to raise money for various groups. Those who pledge money will send it directly to the groups after the blogathon is over; yes, it's the honor system. Dig the change out of your car and couch, and maybe help someone make it through.

Do not go naked into that good night!

Malcolm, I am - as always - in admiration of your writing and in awe of your person. Gratius.