my god! it's full of stars! it's been more than a damn YEAR since i wrote here!

jeez. i mean, i haven't really written much in that time, either--but i can't believe i gave this place a miss during nanowrimo last year! oy.

well. to rectify that, here are some things. i'm posting these to help me get over my fear of letting people see even a sliver of what i'm writing before it's completed. if i'm ever going to work with an editor, i can't tell him, no, i can't tell you what it's about, or it will abort! he will laugh at me and say "give me that ten million dollar advance back!"

really, he would.

anyway, here are some things. this one sort of started and then didn't go anywhere. it might go along with the alien-invasion story i was going to do last year for nano, which sort of petered out, too.

the wars
I thought I saw her in the parking lot of May’s Diner. But then, I thought I saw her in lots of places. The woman I saw: round face, short dark blond hair, dark green eyes and a bright green car--she didn’t even look like the girl I remembered. She looked older than I did, too; she had always been younger. But her name came to mind anyway. Traci. It fit perfectly into a space in my mind, a space her absence had cut.

But I couldn’t just go up to some strange woman and say, “Hey, were you in the wars?” She might not even know which wars I meant, and if she did, and she hadn’t been in them, she’d think I was completely insane.

So I went into the diner. May’s was always mostly empty and always friendly, no matter what time of day you went in. May herself knew who I was; she was my great-niece or half second cousin or some distant descendant of mine. We never did work it out. She looked older than I did.

May wasn’t there that evening, but Amber and Bill were, and we chatted for a moment, talking about nothing: the unseasonably warm weather and how the winds were so strong today; Bill shouted from the grill in back and Amber spoke quietly but at length, friendly and efficient, as always.

It was familiar. That was why I came here. They knew me, but not too well.

Amber was about to recount her family’s visit to some taffy-making factory or caramel-producing facility; she was just trying to remember the word “coalesce”, which had slipped her mind--”Oh, I’ll forget my own behind next,” she said, shaking her head--when the door opened.

The woman who could not possibly have been Traci walked in, slowly. She held the doorframe lightly as she entered, grazing her fingers on it as if to reassure herself that it was there, that if an earthquake happened, the safest place to stand would really be there.

Amber smiled at her. “Have a seat anywhere.” She gestured widely with the coffeepot. “How are you today?”

“Oh,” said the woman, “I’m just coming home from a very long trip.”

“Well, a good meal will be in order, then,” Amber replied. “Have a seat, I’ll bring you some coffee and a menu.”

The woman nodded and smiled. I felt like I couldn’t breathe properly. Traci Traci Traci was pulsing in my mind.

“So, travel, eh?” Bill shouted. The woman looked around, then at me. I nodded towards the kitchen, from which Bill was waving with one hand as he wiped the other on his apron.

“Ah!” the woman said, smiling again. “Yes; it was a very long trip.” She paused. “Like I said.”

“So, what’s your name, then?” Amber said, returning with a stained coffee mug and a faded menu.

“Traci,” said Traci, and it couldn’t have been anyone but her.

“Hi,” I squeaked.

Her eyes sparkled at me--and not in the way of one alien race I had encountered, the ones whose eyes could literally set you on fire. This was her laughing at me. This was her being glad to see me--but not wanting to talk about it all yet.

She remembered me, too; she didn’t need to ask my name.

Amber told her anyway. “That’s such a cute name. I’m Amber, Bill’s in the kitchen, and our other guest here is Jeremy.”

My mouth twitched automatically into a polite smile, and I nodded; I’d been introduced to so many people, it was a reflex. The smile wavered when Traci nodded and sparkled at me again.

“Why don’t y’all sit together?” Amber said. “Make it a little less lonely for both of you. Have someone to talk to besides just me.”

“But you haven’t told us about the candy factory yet,” I said weakly, getting up from my seat at the counter and walking, haltingly as I spoke, to Traci’s table.

“Oh, I can tell you about that any time. This young lady is a traveler and I bet she has more interesting stories in one little finger.”

“I won’t bite,” said Traci, and she put on an overly innocent look as she said it, making herself look almost as young as I remembered her. I sat heavily on the fake-leather booth bench. Amber set the plate I’d left at the counter in front of me.

“You two have fun; I’ll be back to check up on you, so no funny business,” she said, grinning. “You call if you need anything.”

I nodded, and Traci said, “Okay,” and Amber walked away. I could tell she was pleased with herself; Amber thought I was too lonely for my own good, and would take any chance she could to set me up with a nice girl.

“So, how long has this place been here?” said Traci, before I could think of anything to say. “I mean, the diner itself; the building looks pretty old.”

“Yeah--the diner was an addition. The rest of the building burned down some, um… well, I don’t know how long ago; I’ve only been in this town a few months myself. And I never asked.” I thought I was babbling, but she seemed content to listen; her eyes were trained on my face. “But May had inherited the building from my nephew or something--” I stopped, aware of what I had let slip; if you said something like that to most people, they’d start tilting their head and squinting their eyes at you. Traci just nodded.

“So you are older than you look,” she said, and I got the sudden feeling that she was still unsure of who I was, if I was really the boy she remembered, and if I was, did she really want to see me again? She was sniffing around me, mentally, circling like a dog.

I shrugged. “Yeah. I… I was in the wars,” I said quietly, looking at the table. Amber didn’t need to know; if this wasn’t my Traci, the Traci I remembered, I was going to regret letting out the information.

Her eyes went wide and soft. “We shouldn’t talk about that right now,” she said, in a voice just above a whisper. “So, what was this building before it was a diner?” she said, louder.

“Oh, a library or a shop or something. I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve never been in the back part of it, behind the kitchen; they’re always talking about fixing it up but as far as I know they never have. I never saw a building crew or anything.”

“I think we should go explore it,” Traci said.

Amber appeared at her elbow just as she spoke. “Oh, you are a traveler, aren’t you! All curious and wanting to explore--well, I’m sure there’s no harm in two consenting adults--” she twinkled at us each in turn “--going to explore some building no one wants anymore. Just you be careful, and remember, no funny business. So, what will you have to eat before your adventure?” She poised her pen above her tiny notepad.

hey, so, nanowrimo's coming up in a month. i might write some between now and then, and post it here, but starting nov. 1 there will be NO posts excepting:

bitching about nano
exaltations about nano
things i need to write to get out of my head to make way for nano

there will be NO--that is: ZERO, which is also: ZIP and NADA--excerpts from this year's nanovel. period. there will be very little even regarding the novel's subject, concept and probably characters. most of november's posts--and there won't be many, i can tell you right now--will be nonfiction.

two things, both undeveloped, both short, both (probably) songs, though the second might actually turn out to be prose. not sure. anyway here:

1.

you hypnic jerk
...
i'll start slipping soon
skipping--like a CD
disk like the moon
under the water
singing in my ears
have i ben waiting
for so many years?
breaking glasses with my screams
breaking faces with my feet
breaking your mind with my dreams

the "..." (obelisk? i keep forgetting whether that's the three dots or a tor, and i can't remember the word for a tor, if that's a different word) is because i was making this up last night and there were like five other lines--one there at the beginning and a few at the end--which i can't remember and should have written down. damn.

2.

the light was all autumnal
the fiftieth time i fell
the leaves and year were falling too
my sky inside a shell

or something. that fourth line is giving me trouble, and without it (because i'm stubborn) the rest won't move on.


so, hey, you know what's bloody awesome? lost. lost is bloody awesome.

dayume, my love:

is this how you know that something is life-changing: by its emormity? when something is that big, that huge, that you cannot see its edges in your mind, is that how you know the it will change you forever?

before, i thought i knew what this would be like. i imagined myself experiencing it--i pretended it was real so well that i believed it. but it was like practice, like learning how to save a life: you know how big it ought to be--and so you can see its edges--and you know how fast, how soon, how much it ought to grow. but when it is real, you cannot see its edges. you cannot tell how big it really is, how far it will reach, and how fast it will grow. when it is real, it sneaks up on you, like a song. and one day you find yourself a puzzle piece who goes out where you go in and in where you go out. you find someone whose mind curls around yours like an enigmatic, ancient symbol, like the incarnation of balance itself.

and you look for the edges. and you can't find them. you blend like dreams, like a therianthrope's two shapes. and if we are that symbol, would we complete it? would the dark hold the light's seed and the light hold the dark's? what i would not give to hold yours. and which is who, i wonder? are you the light, out there in the sun, dancing each day and night; am i the dark, here behind the curtains with the faerie-catchers and my dreams? or are you the dark, thorny, pugnacious and pragmatic and deep, where i am light, dreaming and wispy until i die?

i know, whatever happens, that i am

yours,

samantha.

EDITED after putting it in with the rest in a file in MSWordP:


Dayume, my love:

Is this how you know that something is life-changing: by its enormity? When something is that big, that huge, that you cannot see its edges in your mind, is that how you know that it will change you forever?

Before, I thought I knew what this would be like. I imagined myself experiencing it--I pretended it was real so well that I believed it. But it was like practice, like learning how to save a life: you know how big it ought to be--and so you can see its edges--and you know how fast, how soon, how much it ought to grow. But when it is real, you cannot see its edges. You cannot tell how big it really is, how far it will reach, and how fast it will grow. When it is real, it sneaks up on you, like a song. (Can you tell yet, my Dayume, whether I am speaking of my impending death of oneiric cancer or of my love for you? I shall soon reveal it.)

One day, after all this intellectual knowing how it should be, you find yourself a puzzle piece who goes out where you go in and in where you go out. You find someone whose mind curls around yours like an enigmatic, ancient symbol, like the incarnation of balance itself.

And you look for the edges. And you can't find them. You blend like dreams, like a therianthrope's two shapes. And if we are that symbol, would we complete it? Would the dark hold the light's seed and the light hold the dark's? What I would not give to hold yours. And which is who, I wonder? Are you the light, out there in the sun, dancing each day and night; am I the dark, here behind the curtains with the faerie-catchers and my dreams? Or are you the dark: thorny, pugnacious, pragmatic and deep, where I am light, dreaming and wispy until I die?

It is true that I was speaking of my emotions as they relate to you at first. This, though, is because I cannot yet bear to think of my--my condition. It will tear me from you; my eyes will never see you again, and my hand shall never again write a letter to you, when I die. The faerie-catchers will not tell me whether I will see you again. They won’t tell me whether I can see you now--though I know I can.

Question--for you would know--when we… when we go, do we die? Are you waiting for me?

I love you,
Samantha.



hahaha. soad lyrics ftw. anyhow. who wants to play "how much is fiction"?

short story: call it either "Living Dead Boy" which is an incredibly obvious takeoff on an incredibly obvious rob zombie lyric if you don't know, or "Twenty-One Years" which is less obvious and has the downside of sounding like a nicholas sparks book which makes me go "bleh".

it's a bit long (3 WP pages) so ( lj cut! )

there's some spacing stuff that won't probably come over in the lj autoformatting, but yeah, you get the idea. anyhow, completely fiction, blar blar blar. came from a character i had walking around in my head--although mary turned out to be completely unlike that girl in every single possible way--and that lyric, i suppose. there's other info, like how mary's an architect, which is why and is because she likes everythign to be structured very very much, after the night that ruined her life pretty much was so out of control and whatnot. but that's not entirely necessary to the story, i think. perhaps in rewrites, it'll get added in, perhaps. and definitely more about john will get added, because if i were reading this, after about the fifth time rereading it, i'd get pissed that there's not enough info about john.

anyhow. i am a badass beastie writer yes?! yes. and stuff. expect more soon; that girl from whom mary sprang is showing up soon. it might be a variation of this tale--it will almost certainly involve that lyric.

this oughta be unique. this is the list i'll send to magazines when they ask "what are your influences?" instead of trying to figure it out for themselves. it's neat to see how much this crosses with the FLB mix. it's also interesting how much this is and is not a list of my favourite songs.
( sphere of influence list )

i'm done for now. i'm not feeling well.

to finish:
this one
the endless one
the FLB one

also i should do some, like, actual writing.

okay. the FLB mix. rules: it has to be FLbish in sound ANDDDD sense. focus on mentioned artists is allowed.

( go )

fuck it. my boy's home. i'm getting off the computer (shockhorror).

PS while i was doing this, the dresden dolls grabbed me, threw me on the floor and made me listen to "girl anachronism" (mentioned on GITDS for witch baby). so... yeah. awesome stuff. getting more from them as we speak. and right after "girl anachronism" came, uh, "the mermaid", from great big sea. :headshake: oh. my brain.

SIDE A: let’s hear it for the boy
Garbage: #1 crush
Smcl: ice cream
Smash mouth: I’m a believer
Alanis morissette: head over feet
Footloose OBC: let’s hear it for the boy
Fatboy slim: praise you
Martina McBride: I love you
John denver: annie’s song
NiNtendo: closer/super Mario bros

SIDE B: if it makes you happy
Sheryl Crow: if it makes you happy
aerosmith: I don’t wanna miss a thing
Blessed union of souls: hey Leonardo
Madonna: like a virgin
Martina McBride: my baby loves me
Natalie merchant: trouble me
Rent OBC/OST: I’ll cover you
TTB OBC: see her smile
Beatles: hard day’s night
Tracy chapman: fast car

ALSO: you really got me
4 non blondes: what’s going on
311: come original
AC/DC: TNT
AC/DC: shook me all night long
Aimee mann: save me
Alex van halen: drum solo
BNL: If I had a million dollars
BNL: lovers in a dangerous time
The corrs: runaway
Counting crows: accidentally in love
Da vinci’s notebook: enormous penis
Dido: thank you
Fern gully OST: a dream worth keeping
Hercules OST: zero to hero
Lion king OST: hakuna matata
Little mermaid OST: kiss the girl
The doors: light my fire
Eels: Novocaine for the soul
Eels: hey man
Eiffel 65: playstation
Eisley: trolleywood
Fiona apple: first taste
Footloose OBC: mama says
Frou frou: holding out for a hero
Goo goo dolls: iris
Hair OBC: what a piece of work is man
Jewel: near you always
John mayer: your body is a wonderland
Laura veirs: galaxies
Lisa loeb: sandalwood
LOTR OST: may it be
REM: I am superman
Rent OBC/OST: your eyes
Rufus wainwright: cigarettes & chocolate milk
Sarah mclachlan: sweet surrender
System of a down: radio/video
Third eye blind: I want you
Tick tick boom OBC: sugar
Tori amos: heart of gold
Rembrandts: I’ll be there for you
Van halen: you really got me
Beatles: when I’m 64

so i'm in a bit of a sweet mood. so. applicable stuff. sides a and b (in the style of a real mixtape, heycool) are the most important ones; "also" (playlist on shuffle style, also cool) is the rest of the applicable stuff.

EDIT: i just discovered reliant k, so we're adding "my girl's ex-boyfriend" to... let's put it in "also". because while it's omg applicable, it isn't you and it isn't me so there you go. ( lyrics!! )

i've also recently discovered Of montreal, so we're going to be adding "your magic is working" to... side B. i think. possibly "also". dunno. anyway, ( lyrics! )

i swear i'm going to get back to the endless mix. jesus though that thing is never-ending. anyway. this is a new thing: the Kitten Is Angry mixlist, which interestingly does not contain any lemon demon at all. anyway. it's in four parts, the fourth part being ones that go with the mood and are good to sing/listen to now but don't necessarily follow the theme. all the sections sorta overlap and bleed into one another, but hey. that's the mood. the bleeding part not the overlapping. and it's him not me and not you. actually it's sort of more semichronological than anything. whatever!! okgo.

( kitten is angry )

okay. i feel a bit better now. i think some tedium is in order.

maybe it's the caffeine. i dunno. but on the way home my head started buzzing with this.

if you played me like baseball
that's it!
i'm gone
gone!
i will obliterate you
from my eyes
from my ears
from my mouth
from my mind
i'm gone
gone!
you will never make me scream
only shout
to get your bad air from my lungs
as you 'got yours from yours
you haven't yet gotten yours
and you never 'got yours from me*
we made our own language
but it has no words for this
how i'm gone
gone!

*"truly, you have a dizzying intellect." sorry... i slipped into some shake-speake there. 'got = begot.... got it?

's fucking short but whatever. the single-word lines are meant to be held out like the "i" in "i.... am forbidden to produce... milk." anyway. it's not you, it's him, and i feel like that girl in that story who would get pissed and write write write. the first line came into my head when i saw this girl's shirt that said "play hard flirt harder" and i thought well i got played. played hard. played like baseball. and if you played me like baseball--that's it! and then the thing just started spilling from there.

it's totally the caffeine. i can't believe i need a venting moment. but i suppose if i don't vent it builds up and whatnot and actually there are things i need to vent besides teh pissedness but those can wait. they're playlist 6 things anyway so... yeah.

i've decided this is where i'm going to put my various mixthemelists from now on, since they are a semicreative thing and actually mostly because they are clogging my journal and people's fpages and that's just not nice. so here is my Endless Mix. you know... The Endless. destiny, death, dream, destruction, desire, despair, and delight-delirium. okgo. (note: many of these will be solely based on title, not theme/lyrics etc.) hey, there should be another one called "deceit". then i could use stuff like "a perfect lie" (which makes me crackle then melt) and "the phony king of england" (from robin hood) and so on. ah well.

( destiny )

( death )

( dream (overlaps with the sleep mixlist) )

i'm going to have to finish this later; it's time for work.

EDIT ok back okgo.

( dream cont. )

( destruction. not just what he is, but what he did, because there's no one named desertion. )

okay. now i'm getting tired nstuff. so the last few tomorrow or later, i suppose. i can't wait to do del. she will be fun. desire, too--a delicate approach there, i promise, not just copypasting my "playlist 6". despair will be... interesting. who thinks i should do delight seaparately? i do. i can put all the summer songs in. and sunshine light show flower seed or whatver it's called. yeah.

okay. this is the one that is going to be called "in caelis". i don't know why yet, although it has got a bit about the sky. when the chorus comes along it'll all be clearer. creation happens by convergence--harmonic covergence, even--just like real-life things. you have to be in the right place at the right time with the right mindset and thoughts and the right people and so on.

when i am alone
shouting glory to the sky
when i let the light in
through my skin & eyes
when i'm by myself
and i don't have to lie

two-thirds autobio. shouting glory to the sky refers to me being all by myself in the house and belting out "one song glory" with only the sky outside the window to hear me. but i like it. that was the seed-line for this one, the way the bit about leading his mind down into the hive was the seed for "queen bee". anyway. this one's really pulsing, i think. beatwise. like the background of "one headlight" but... not. blacker. less yellow. black in blue, i think. it's got to be blue if it's going to be called something like "in caelis" i mean come on. duh. i have quite the definite idea for this one, musically. can you tell? i just wish i knew the chorus so i knew why it wants to be called "in caelis". the instrumentals will be very very blue. like boards of canada blue, i'm serious. anyway. what i don't like is how it was all "ooh ooh write me WRITE ME!!" and then it gave me six lines and petered out. i mean wtf brain. wtf. i mean, yeah, it could be like one of those songs where there's just a few lines repeated through the whole song--that kind of thing happens all the time, and to extremes, like in "i'm getting closer to my home" or whatever that one was, and in that one paul oakenfold song. you know what i want to do? i want to write one where there's only like four or five lines but they're in a different order in every stanza/section/verse and they still make sense. that would be awesome.

actually i'm in a fictional, prosey mood.... i think i need some random input. yep. or maybe i'll just dance around a while and wait for neutrinos of inspiration to hit me. that could work. or maybe i'll just rant about my creative process some more. whatever.

you need to know what i've ben listening to, to hear the planned tone for this. it's not as popfolk as i usually am. i've been all over things like sufjan stevens, explosions in the sky, godspeed you! black emperor, and boards of canada for the past like 4 hours. so yes, very very slow, spacey, and above all quiet.

you were out like a light
you were out for the night
you lay sleeping, sated
as my songs conglomerated
building like a honeycomb
you're why i call this place home

i led your mind down to the hive
and you called me queen bee
i know how to make you alive
just by being me

i'll stay demure and meek
though that isn't what you seek
i'll meld with the air
and as i'm sitting there
i'll keep guard as you rest
and i build melodic nests

i led your mind down to the hive
and you called me queen bee
i know to what depths you dive
i don't know what you see

and i'll try to be quiet
but i know my heart's so loud
who can't hear it in my smile
as i touched your hair


and right as i wrote that last line, sufjan stevens's "romulus" came on the WiMP. nice. anyway. it's what's happening, baby, it's where it's at, daddy-o. i'm just trying to type as quietly as possible. thank god for ambient indie.

when you were in pain, i hurt.
when you wanted to cry, i wept.
when you were angry, my heart went out.
when you were falling, i leapt.
i wanted to be half of you.
i wanted to empathize.
i wanted to feel what you felt.
i wanted to see
behind your blue eyes.
but if you are afraid of me, what am i to do
if i want to feel the same way as you?
you restructured my mind
as i restructured yours
but your thoughts entered me
without showing their ID
and now i don't know what i think
because i didn't know what you thought
ignorance was bliss
until i found out.
you formed whole parts of me;
was i ever part of you?
how many parts of you did i never see?
did you even want to be part of me?
now i know it's because of you
that i think the way i do.
i hurt once, twice, when you were gone.
now every time you were the hurting one
will echo. will magnify. in both our minds--
in mine with satisfaction.

again, purely personal stuff. wtf's up with that structure, man? whatever. fractured thoughts and all--i've got raging things to say and no way to say them and i'm not sure what they are. the thing is, i'm pissed. and the only reason it hasn't gone away yet is cos i haven't talked to anyone about it. and it's weird that i typed this instead of handwriting it first as i usually do. whatever. i'm gonna go distract myself. i'm not being very coherent right now.

this is one of my more literal things. song, i think... it's got a chorus, anyway. of sorts. rhythm's a little weird and inconsistent but so is "to / our crazy fans...."

5:32
juliet said, and i do prove
that looking doth not liking move.
to boys this applies
but not to the skies
for i fell in love at half-past five.

5:32
when it's lavender blue
morning wakes outside my door
and i've never heard that colour before.

the world's just warming up and the mist
across the fields just starts to lift
and the first birds now are starting to call
and you and i are just starting to fall
asleep now as we lie here together;
the sky is blue as a peacock feather.

5:32
when it's pure and it's blue
morning waits outside my door;
i've never heard that colour before.


to be honest, i normally say "i've never heard that colour before" at twilight, although it's no longer strictly true as i have discovered laura veirs's purple-ribbon voice on lake-ripple-reflection instrumentals.... er, anyway. did i mention i'm synaesthetic?

anyway. i think i might make this "5:32 (summer)" or something, because i also want one about the crystalline stars one sees (and hears) at the same time of morning in winter. or the crack and grey of that time in fall. i dunno. we'll see.

if this piece ever gets published (you know, salmon of doubt style) i will hurt someone. well, not really, since anyone who's publishing me i want to keep publishing me. but anyway. this is not fiction. i was considering locking it, but i'm not, because i don't believe in locking anything but the truly psychotic/inchoerent up. and you say but why not just not post it eh? and i say back well lj is where i keep these things. and why not show off? no one reads this except maybe mom and she knows i have emotions anyway. so. rant. normally it'd be a bloggy thing but someday it might come in handy for some fictitious/melodic thing and so i'm keeping it here plus there's people on my real lj who don't appreciate things like this and hell, why not advertise it? who doesn't want to shout this kind of thing from the rooftops, and only doesn't for fear of getting told "HEY MA! GET OFF THE DANG ROOF!" or like that diamond commercial: "I LOVE THIS WOMAN!"

for those who totally scanned that paragraph except for the two all-capped phrases: you are interested now, are you not?

anyway. here is my outpouring. it was difficult, and i have the feeling my brain shrank away from much that wanted saying, and much that is now forgotten, as galadriel said. also, i am totally buzzing on tea & techno & bitch mag. yeah. and the other day (yesterday?) at work i was COMPLETELY buzzing on a doubleshot and HOWL. so, true story, there. that's where that comse from. so here.

PS WOOT for second person. freakin deal with it; i write that way a lot, i'm sure you've noticed. even stuff that, for all intents and purposes, is first person, comes out second person, with me talking to/for the narrator. ANYWAY! HERE! GOSH!


when i'm buzzed on coffee & ginsberg, normally i'm thinking: beats hippies society god. not today. not this month. no, now you are the one to make me howl*: frustration emotion pure feeling. you're the one to make my shoulders wriggle the way a sentient mattress would love**. i'll think of you and i'll notice, after a moment, that i'm smiling. you make it hard to think of much but you; you make it hard to think in complete sentences at all. period. even so, i'll put you in puzzle-stories. i'll parable about you. you'll be my key to the meaning of life. i'll put you wordlessly in songs: how you've made me more relaxed than when i was a total neo-hippie flower child. how you get me more jazzed than when i wanted to be a flapper. how you make my fingers and toes curl like a contented cat's paws, and how i don't notice, how you make me forget my body, how i become nothing but eyes and ears, accepting, taking in, blending with, absorbing you. how even this very outpouring is lost to emotion, a drop in a swirling sea, set to the heartbeat of the waves as they crash words on the shore of the page.*** how this is wordlessly coherent as any other of my songs. how i want to write about all this, but how can i? it is just there. it is not eloquent; nor am i. when one is madly in love, all one can say is "i am madly in love,"**** and i am madly in love.*****


*i want you all to know--all you losers who don't already know, that is--HOWL is ginsberg's like most famous thing okay? so it's not entirely a sex-related thing. it's an allusion/reference. dealie.

**wtf douglas adams reference. see, this is why i freakin edit everythign i say, because it comes out all dorkified, all netted and spiderwebbed (sometimes cobwebbed) with book/poetry/movie/music references instead of being all me. i mean, yeah, even my salable crap is like that, but it's not so obvious/obscure. but at least i didn't mention wings. i'm really really trying to get off my wings kick. i should start getting all fangirlish over detroit's hockey team... that would be so funny.

***damn. hella metaphor. been done but damn. see also: endless rain into a paper cup.

****i just noticed that when i'm handwriting, i automagically put commas and so forth ALWAYS inside quotes unless it's a songtitle (excluding "welcome to:" of course). but when i'm typing, i often put stuff outside. weird.

*****five asterisks! whoo! anyway i just want to mention what a fuckin fuck-you that very last sentence is to a certain person who doesn't matter anymore. a person who was "madly in love with madly :D". ha. what evil pleasures come with writing, when you can give such an obscure finger to someone so deserving.... come now, it was a lame saying anyway, even if you did mean it.******

******not that you******* read this.

*******different "you" thanin the piece, btw.


okay! seven footnotes, counting metafootnotes. nicely done, madi, nicely done.

damn. still buzzing and it's too late for dancing. more writing? possibleh, possibleh. bit blocked, though. we'll see.

yeah, so, "botticelli hair", here (stupid title, but better than "anime eyes", i think... actually they're equally dumb)... definitely gone towards "unsettling". i mean, i tried to keep it more exactly between "unsettling" and "sweet little ode thing" so people could pick which they wanted, and it would tlel you a lot about yourself depending on which interpretation you prefer, until i set it to music in which case it is either sunny pop or heartbeat bass, either of which would shove the interpretation *i* choose on your face, but anyway it veered off into unsettling all by itself and, well, here.

first verse is same as before, with one word changed. then there's a bridge or somethin' and another verse-stanza... dealie. fuckit. here.


botticelli hair and anime eyes
angelita lips knew just what to do
carry her around, ice princess for you
poised, brushed, perfect photograph lies
fold her, carry her, caress and stare
at her anime eyes and her botticelli hair

Her delicate stumbling hands--you know them
Her tiny Chinese feet--you know them
The way she looks--you know it now
The way she moves her arms--you know it
The cream skin of her thigh--you know it

Her anime eyes and her botticelli hair
Carry her around, your photograph girl
See nothing inside your or her world
She will follow you now everywhere
Precocious, sweet, child-eyed wise
With her botticelli hair and anime eyes


second stanza, third line, thinking of changing it to "the way she looks at you" and taking off the "now"... meh. we'll see. so, uh, vague enough for you? to me it's not vague at all, but then i watch too many movies.

so, i feel like writing. seriously. i think i'm gonna write a samantha's letter. i think. not sure yet. i might even go back to my julno (shockhorror!).

PS the fact that "not an addict" has been stuck in head all day has NOTHING to do with this song... really....

so, here's a new thing. prose poem, maybe a song, i dunno.


i'm winding down. the day is falling. the walls of night are closing in--i can't see out. i'm going under. spiralling inside. winding in--towards my self. my heartbeat syncopates with yours. your breathing buoys me up in the river where we float: oh lethe. there's no boatman to save me. oh lethe. i'm trapped in the cave of me, in my own hollows, starlit caverns, in my shadows, oh lethe.

black flowers in my head. my spine a stem--their roots my mind. i'm seeing gold again, aching for blue, to swim--remembering red. your arm around me, my wings around you, beginning to fall, gliding in the river where we float: oh lethe. there's no boatman to save me. oh lethe. i've no way to pay for me. i've but myself, starlit caverns, my mind and stories, oh lethe.

oh lethe. you've no boatman to save me. oh lethe. where everyone goes. oh lethe. let me float a while. oh lethe. you're a galaxy. oh lethe. eternity. oh lethe. you've no boatman to save me. oh lethe.


hmm. i kinda like it.

another short little one-verse thing. damn it. actually, if i felt like it, i think this could go places. but i kinda feel like vegging right now. i'll come back to it.

i think this might make more sense if i switched some lines around. but meh.

botticelli hair and anime eyes
angelita lips know just what to do
carry her around, ice princess for you
poised, brushed, perfect photograph lies
fold her, carry her, caress and stare
at her anime eyes and her botticelli hair

botticelli (sounds like pasta, doesn't it? no, you're thinking of vermicelli) is this guy:


also think "birth of venus" and so on. you know, soft-lit, wavy, makes you want to touch it. well, me anyway. i loves me some "birth of venus", man.

edit: three things i've noticed, rereading this entry:
1. "primavera" goes beautifully with the colors i have on this journal. awesome.
2. that song could be extended to be something like that one sufjan stevens song, where at the end you feel sympathy for the serial killer guy. only here we have a child pornographer. or it could be not sympathising but just about. this was totally not intended, but i kinda like it. and you could put some really creepy stuff behind it. a bunch of spine-tingling little clicks, or like the opening to texas chainsaw massacre. hmm.
3. this week and last week i updated wed-thur-fri. weird trend there. dunno what's up with that. those are also days on which i work, normally, i think. towards the end of the week. so i dunno. we'll see if it repeats. it'll be easy to test because normally i have no idea what day it is anyway, so i won't be conscious of if i do it again.