il est mort

He always like to play with us, even if we didn't want to play with him.
He wiggled when he walked, when he used to have some fat on his bones.
He always found me when I was upset and just made it all better.
He would always always beg for cheese.
He lived outside, and when it rained he sat under that table.
He loved us all, and we loved him too.
He's gone.
Now all I can really think about is how when I got home today, he was just lying under the table, and no matter what I did, he stayed laying the same. He didn't move. Later on, he sat up and I petted his paws, and he pulled my hands closer, he wanted to have his hands held. When he laid his head back down, it thumped on the floor. My tears were messy and all over the place. And then he couldn't even hold my hand anymore. He just laid, and he cried. I didn't want him to end like this. I just wanted him to purr and meow and ask for something. Anything.
And when he left, I didn't even realize it. How empty it was when he was gone. The wind blew as we were tossing dirt over the beautiful box we made him. The wind blew him away. I want him back. I want him to not have any pain anymore, ever. He had such a good life, my baby kitty. Exactly 14 years and 6 months. He was perfect until the end.

So what's happening is that I don't often post on here anymore. I check this blog every day, to see if anyone else has posted, but (guilty look) i post more on tumblr. So if any of you want to check it out, my tumblr is http://sliverflowers.tumblr.com/
If i have any poems or rants, ill post on here. so that's why i've disappeared.
anna, i'm awaiting a letter :)

you know how sometimes it feels okay to cry? this is one of those times.

Isn't it nice? to feel wanted?

sorry for not posting. I've been caught up in other things, and trying not to just sit on the internet. Plus, I haven't been writing. I'm stuck

Shake the Dust

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0qDtHdloK44

Just click the link, and watch. And understand

I'm thinking about shorter hair.
I'm thinking about longer hair.
I'm thinking I need change but don't know how.

I got a certain letter today....
and because you told me you enjoy my writing, i'll put a poem on here. Fair warning, its old.

How can I miss
what I didn't have.
Just
out of reach.
My fingertips brush
something-- you?
The word on my tongue
the wind in my hair
and tight-skinned cheeks,
can I still feel it?
some days,
somedays...
what im reaching for
is me
but am i
already gone?

this is my all-purpose post. Yes, I'm putting off homework, no, I'm not on facebook too. So I'm not aaaaall bad, right?
Well. I'll end with a reaaaaally good stanza from a poem, so you'll have to keep reading to get there.
I love looking at people's tumblrs, but I don't have one. I feel like if I did, nobody would enjoy looking at it. It'd just be there, collecting dust and no followers. Yeah, I know tumblr is way more hopping than blogspot, but... I'm not ready to give up this blog.
I have a few things that i really want, and then I'll tell you why I feel horribly guilty. Pictures of the things I want:



Why I feel guilty: some peole dont even have enough to EAT or a clean place to bathe or fresh water, and I want a cute blouse thats about sixty bucks and some makeup thats about 45? I feel really really guilty for WANTING. because wants and needs are different. I need food and water and clothes and shelter. I want cute clothes that coest bunches, a pretty house where i have my own room, yummy food, and loads and loads of other things. I still want the makeup (I'm obsessed, its perfect!) but i dont want to want things. I want to be content. And I'm sure I'll be happy whether or not I get it. But can you blame me for wanting? Even a starving person would like something that tastes good, right?

Poem time!
CHASING THE BIRD
the sun sets unevenly and the people
go to bed.

the night has a thousand eyes.
the clouds are low, overhead.

every night is a little bit
more difficult, a little

harder. My mind
to me a mangle is.

by robert creely, one of the Beat Poets

Beat Poets

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn
looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly
connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery
of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat
up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-
water flats floating across teh tops of cities contem-
plating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and
saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenements
roofs illuminated,
who passed through universtities with radiant cool eyes
hallucinating Arkansas and blake-light tragedy
among the scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy & pub-
lishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning
their money in wastebaskets and listening to the
Terror through the wall,

From HOWL by Allen Ginsberg

I AM EMPTY

My glittering stings
these bleeding fingertips
to ice over reality
and calm quaking hearts
teary eyes and
the soul next door,
knees to chest of agony.

I'll promise you,
I'll laugh all day
with my fingers splayed
and scream all night
tight and hard as fists
caught up in my ecstacy
and rocking,
listening to fear next door.

For heavy footsteps
ring upon my galaxies
and heavy hands
rough like i don't remember
come down to me,
sinking into sawdust emptiness
fignernails dirtied by
poison tubs of poison thought
and all is silent
next door.

three

Lace up my ribs
with needlepoint
and nurse these scars to
bleed.
the sound of blood
is tight.

I write these letters
to cry my
invisible. I'm not
h e r e
press fingers to my lips
i'll bite.

leave your branches
where you've fallen,
take your golden promise
and your gentle bones.
did you promise?
did you share?


drive these needles
into my delicate flesh
and be gentle with those
mothball hands
and
d
r
i
p

Two

could you explain to me
how often you
draw your lines
and open your mouth
when daggers
emerge from your
nervous lips?

Will you share your
sex and shoot up
my golden veins?

How often do you
tickle my spine
with voodoo fingers
the bite almost like
the radio stations
too often played but
still forgotten?

Do I ask too many question
and talk too little
with needles
and too often for
you?

Does emptiness
make you feel safe
and lollipops
remind you of childhoods
spent like
hourglass sand,
stealthily slipping?

Why does the rain never
seem to stop?

one

Making sense of modern art,
a heavy
perscription. Buy me my
painkillers and spike my
soda with
the shells of butterflies so
i can fly.

Tiptoe quietly in my
suicide note and hope
there isn't quicksand.
Whisper quickly those secrets
glued to your lips
the palms of your hands
every strand
of misery. Do you still sing?
Because my lyrics are silent
stagnant
suffering under me.

Coat your tongue in
my fingertips
glass pains and panes
love notes you never finished
and started too late
for carrying.

Trace my spine with
infidelity
and poise poses on tippity top
mountaintops.
and tightrope youself
to sleep

...

Blogging is so difficult when youre always busy or waaaay too lazy. I really have bunches of stuff to say, but i can't think of any of it when i sit down at the computer.
I'm back from california, without having seen my dear anna, which totally sucked. it sucked soooo hard. Because every second i was in San Francisco, i was wishing she were there, too. Because she always told me how i would love it. And i did. I got this amazing dress and a super cool book of beat poetry (look it up!)
Now i'm home and only two nights so far have been in my own bed. Yay for sleepovers that dont end. I wish all summer were like that.
I'm super stressing school. only a week and a half?! what is this blasphemy?!

Gualala

Californ-i-a

dear blogging world:
I'm in california! We took two planes, had a super long layover in Denver, and a nice long drive along highway 1 (look it up, its amazing) to our beachish house in Gualala, California. I can see the beautiful ocean from here, and some golden hills and green pines. There was a deer grazing in our yard when we came. Its pretty amazing so far.

I have internet, which is also amazing. I mean, I can live without it, but its nice that we have it anyway.
sadly, no cell service at all.
(anna, comment this post when you know the date)

Lots of love,
Emma, cali girl for two weeks

Lists

Why does everyone and their sister have a tumblr now? Because tumbr has an easy layout and blah and there's more people following you and blah, but I'm pretty much stuck with blogspot. Though the idea of a tumblr is appealing, because more people will read what I have to say. But I dont know... switch time?

Yesterday was warped tour, and i think that I will be annoyingly talking about it all day. I:
saw 16 different bands
liked most of them
danced my ass off
kept my tube top on all day
didn't get sunburnt
met a cute guy
danced with him
sang along to my favorite songs
spent 5 bucks on a drink
had an amazing day
am already looking forward to next year
sweated
got sprayed with water
hugged
laughed
smiled.

That's my rant, in list form. I leave for california in less than a week. In about two (ish) weeks, I will see my best friend again. How many years has it been? Four? Three? Five? Too many, darlin. I can't wait!

I'm going to put up my final work from writing camp soon. And catch up with all my 30-day letters. Which, sadly, I haven't even had time to WRITE let alone type. Sighh.

FTSK

Forever the Sickest Kids
It was an amazing concert, because we waited outside for like three hours so we would get up super duper close for the concert. And we were. I was the second row.
But i have a few gross fun facts. Because it was about a million degrees in that room, and there were a million people, too, EVERYONE was sweaty. And let me tell you, sweaty hair sticks. Also, it is possible to prune your fingers with sweat. And It is possible to feel like you took a shower in sweat.

It was, of course, worth it. But I don't think I've ever lost so much bodily fluid in all my life.

Of course when I got home, I took the best shower of my life. Not even warped tour, outside, all day, in the sun, compares to the heat in that room.


But on another note, things that bother me. People who are assholes to you sometimes when clearly its not what you needed. And friends being assholes because they can and they're hot and cold and can't fucking decide to like you or not.

good night everyone, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANNA. You're such an old fart now. <3

No Day but Today

So lately I've just been posting my letters. But I post two or three at the same time, and for the record, I write them the day of, and post them later, when I have time.

Also, today, My grandmother, whom I call Oma, left today. I hate airports. They are depressing places full of goodbyes. At least all the recent time's I've been there. I always seem to miss the 'hello' part of visits. When Souki came, I was at my steel sculpture class. When my Oma came, I was working in southern Indiana. So the goodbye is all I get. I am horrible at it, too. I always choke up and cry.

Endings are so sad. Why was it too soon?

DaY Ten

Dear person I don't talk to as much as I'd like,

You know, you are many different people. I'm indesicive, I can't choose. I talk to you lots bot not really. Youre close but far away. YOu're not just one person. So I'm not naming names here, but I'd like to talk to all of you more.

YOu, we know everything about each other, and that's amazing. You're amazing. But I do miss you when we're between letters.

YOu, we used to be soooo tight, and we do text sometimes and stuff, but TALK is something we do not do a lot. We chat, we chill. Let's talk

You, who should be in a different category

You, who act like its a fucking chore to hang with me, unless there's something in it for you. You are also a different category, and I can't help you being both.

You (tu), who I love and I miss and its hard to talk to you because often I don't know what to say, except I do love you and I want to be there with you instead of over here. I want to give you kisses on the cheek and hugs because I'm essentially american. But you're far away and six hours time makes a difference.

Love always,
Emma