Monday, September 15, 2008

the girl's a recluse.

she looked up at me and smiled. i smiled back.

i felt moisture developing in my underarms and my neck began to feel warm, then hot. in. 1.2.3.4.5. pause. out. 1.2.3.4.5. my palms clammed.

and at that moment i wished for nothing more than to be able to take it back. i spoke without thinking. and now i understood why it was that i couldnt hate her even though everyone else seemed to have no trouble with it all. i couldn't hate her because she was the strongest person i knew. she knew what she was worth, and it didnt bother her to smile. everytime she opened her eyes, she'd see yellows and pinks, whites and oranges, peaches and reds and flesh smoother than my lips; even on days when evaporated ponds stood midway from dirt and space, blocking everyone else from the vivid colors of life, enveloping them in the musty gray vision they chose to label reality.

thump. thump. thump. she was alive.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

stay true

i'm so glad that i work with kids; i mean, it can prove to be annoying at times, but, every now and then you get those days that remind you of what it's like to be a child... and you realize that, there's more to you than you can remember.

there are memories you've forgotten, and dreams that you've lost.

and so this life you've created, is not really yours, but instead, a creation of a mixture of places you've been and people you've met, things you both detest and admire. you're life is a jumble of scrambled moments in time. and once again, you begin to question just who it is that you are. but in the end, it'll all just loop over and over again, because "you" is nothing more than that jumble and mixture that "you" and "they" have created.

"The beet is the most intense of vegetables. The onion has as many pages as 'War and Peace,' every one of which is poignant enought to make a strong man weep, but the various ivory parchments of the onion and the stinging green bookmark of the onion are quickly charred by belly juices and bowl bacteria. Only the beet departs the body the same color as it went in.



"Beet consumed at dinner will, come morning, stock a toilet bowl with crimson fish, their hue attesting to beet's cromatic immunity to the powerful digestive acids and the thoroughgoing microbes that can turn the reddest pimento, the orangest carrot, the yellowest squash into a single disgusting shade of brown.
At birth we are red-faced, round, intense, pure. The crimson fire of universal consciousness burns in us. Gradually, however, we are devoured by parents, gulped by schools, chewed up by peers, swallowed by social institutions, wolfed by bad habits, and gnawed by age; and by the time we have been digested, cow style, in those six stomachs, we emerge a single disgusting shade of brown.
The lesson of the beet, then, is this: hold on to your divine blush, your innate rosy magic, or end up brown. Once you're brown, you'll find that you're blue. As blue as indigo. And you know hwat that means:
Indigo.
Indigoing.
Indigone."


- Tom Robbins' "Jitterbug Perfume."