A Collection of Spectacles


i cut my hair. it’s shorter than i’d like (right past the nape of the neck) but i don’t care.

fuck what pleases people. i’m not trying to please anyone.

it’s what i do when i feel like i need to change, to be someone different. i think i will put red on the undersides. something different.

i’m too much like a guy. i don’t have feelings. when i feel hurt (and i feel hurt all the time) i cover everything up pretend i’m dead so nothing gets through. i’m too tired to love. i want to be fucked and told i’m pretty.

i have a horrible habit of separating things. i place people into catagories: people you fuck and people you befriend (and although the two needs could be met by the same person i would still see two separate entities). this is why i could be had by everyone in the world and still feel lonely.


i hate the tsa. what a nonsense job. telling me to put all my liquids smaller than 8 oz into plastic bags. telling me that i couldn’t leave with those items if they weren’t in the bags but having signs that allow blades under four inches. telling me that i couldn’t leave with a rum bottle that size but saying that it was okay to buy the same thing in the airport facility.

oh and i hate when planes land i bite my lower lip and think i’m going to crash and die.

i sat in cars, looked at the sky there and honestly thought i could live here. i could live in puerto rico. abandon everything right now and live here. no phones (i hate them anyway) no name no address no way for anyone i once knew to find me. i could abandon everything and live here.

i loved the clear blue water. i hated going back home on the plane because i had to watch the water turn from beautiful to shit.

the highlight of my trip was the rainforest. i got to swim in a huge waterfall. the guide said it was “refreshing.” refreshing meant freezing.


the next man i meet. i will look at his inner thighs and say, “i refuse to look you in the eyes because i might realize that you’re human and i don’t want that. i want bodily fufillment without attachment.

if you begin to love me then it’s over because that’s too much work. i’m being honest. at least i’m not lying to you.”

like everyone else, i once thought that paying for it was the most vile thing ever. now i think it’s about the most honest thing a person can do. everyone knows what they’re getting into.

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i realized that i needed to get this out of my system. i was told that i needed closure and, because it’s not being granted willingly, i’m going to have to create some.
creating my own reality to suit my needs? i’m used to it.
you’re lovely. you really are. but i’ve learned that you’re one of those people who i’d like to lock up in a closet and keep from relationship-type situations. allow me to explain.
you like too many people at the same time. i think it’s because you haven’t figured out the definition of liking someone. there are lots of people you’re going to want to fuck and lots of people you’re going to want to just hang out with for a day and be friends with but a person you like has both plus an indescribable magnetic quality.
i don’t think you honestly like everyone you say you do. i think you’re attracted to the high one gets off of being in love. you’re constantly chasing it.
stop jumping into things so soon.
stop running on auto-pilot off of your emotions if you’re not prepared to deal with the concequences.
stop using sexual acts as a means to release your stress and tension. such things should be saved to unify two people in symbiosis not to fufill the needs of one abandoning the feelings of the other.
stop doing things that you’re going to regret later. try thinking ahead for once. think about the people involved. try caring about someone else for once.
let me take that back. you care about people. i know you do. it’s just that you’re too confused to make decisions so most of the time they come out looking like you don’t give a shit about people, like you’re selfish. if you’re going to live implusively, you need to be honest with people. just…whatever it is, fucking spit it out and face the fact that someone might end up mad at you because living the way you are is comepletely contradictory to “i want to make everyone happy.”
i was treated horribly though. i hope you know that. i hope you take the experience and treat others better. it’s the least i can ask for since you won’t talk to me.
most of all, you need to grow up. really. stop acting like you’re in elementary school and these games are okay because other people are involved. people aren’t just toys. they can’t be treated as such.

with that said, i still feel some pulling obligation to tell you these things. to help. because i understand and a lot of people won’t. they’ll just assume you are selfish by your actions without actually knowing the motives behind them. i feel some odd motherly obligation to protect you. let me stop. this is beginning to sound weird.

closure. now i have emptied my mind. now i can put a period at the end of this post. now i can end things.

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i wrote this post once and then lost it to crappy internet service. i hate re-writing things. they’re never as great the second time.

i’ve had the worst fantasies lately. by “worst” i mean ones that are particularly interesting and exciting for me but that are deemed socially obscene and unthinkable.

i’m wide awake so i know better than to go into detail about them but let’s just say one involves a roll of duct tape a bag of clothespins a chair a tray of ice cubes meyou a rendezvous (aka an empty room where no one can hear you screammmmmm)


i say,

you’re going to feel embarrassment like you’ve never felt before. you’re going to feel like a whole crowd is watching even though it’s just me. you’re going to cover the emotional spectrum everyinchofit but this shit’s not going to go from zero to sixty in a second. time. this is going to take time.”




in the beginning, it’s going to feel horrible. excruciating. that’s the initial pain (the mind’s ohshitwhat’shappening?)before the flesh feels warm (when you’ve reached the plateau) and everything seems easier.

before i was stupid. i would let him love me freely, let him throw the word around and i would devour it like a dog who hasn’t figured out that his piece of meat is ripe with razors.

he loves too freely whereas i rarely love and mean it (at least outwardly) so this is why this has importance to me while it probably means nothing to him.


i love you because you are horrible to me. hahahahaha. i have to stop laughing when i’m supposed to cry.

i hate being ignored. i’d rather just know. but this “not knowing” this void this gap this question mark is what upsets me most.

now you’re going to have to prove it.

(i’m desperately trying to feel as though i’m in control of something for once)

suffer to gain.

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i’m okay. i’m always okay. i’ll always be okay. tommorrow will be better than today and it will be that way because i will have willed it so.

i’m looking up from here on out. no looking back. no looking down. you miss out on too much that way.

i have to laugh about it. my posts are so bipolar.

i tried to figure out why i don’t get upset anymore. why i don’t cry about anything anymore.

it’s because everything feels surreal. i don’t feel alive exactly. i feel like this is all a dream and that it’s not happening to me. i don’t know exactly who “me” is but i don’t feel completely “here.” this isn’t making sense.

is there really that much difference between the girl and the chair she’s sitting in?

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i’m posting again because there’s nothing better to do. i want to stay home and think for once.

i don’t understand what there is to fear about me. i’m a little girl with huge aspirations.

we’re too much like each other, you know. this is why things are difficult. we’re too much of the same except you haven’t matured as much as …no. you simply haven’t grown up in all aspects. i can wait(?) but, for me, it’s not waiting around. i’m waiting for understanding. not perfection. just mutual agreement. if that makes any sense.

when you’re prepared to face the world, finally, i’ll be here.

i’m feeling unattractive and inadequate right now for no reason. could be the heat. maybe because i’m writing things that are passive-aggressively scathing. that’s not ladylike. that’s not attractive.

i’m tired of people and their emotional glitches.

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i want to hide the last one because it makes me sound like i’m overindulgent and stupid but that’s not how it sounded while it was still in my mind. it’s not how it sounds. it’s…i can’t explain. i never can.

i should go to sleep but every time i have the chance, i choose to stay awake.

i slept for six

highly interrupted

hours (10-2, wokeupeyeshurtcouldn’tgoback 5-7 woke up nothingbettertodo) this is a shit pattern.

would this still work if you knew that i have the horrible habit of trying to convince myself that nothing’s wrong with me?

i eat next to nothing some days and too much others. i can’t do anything in moderation.

what’s the point of living if you’re going to do things and then take them back? what’s the point of doing anything?

i had a dream last night (and i rarely remember my dreams so this one was important i guess). we were at a table and there were two cooked lobsters. i abstained from eating them because i’m a vegetarian but you were confused as to how to crack it open and i used to love them so i decided to tell you how. actually, we called it a lobster but it looked unlike any i had ever seen before. (yourmotherwasinthebackgroundactinginsane) upon slitting open its shell in the belly area, where most of the meat was usually, there was no meat. instead, four tiny living creatures crawled out. see, you had killed something and i had aided you but out of killing one thing a new thing was born. i thought that was important.

i want to cover my arms. tattoo sleeves so people would shutthefuckup and stop staring at me. and stop asking me things. i want to sew my lips together so people would look the other way.

i like when i’m treated like shit because that’s what i know best. it gets me off. i’m comfortable in seclusion and secure in upset so i secretly think that i have it out for myself. i want to fuck because it’s something to do, something interesting. does that make me a whore? to want to recreate simply to alleviate bordom? i want to be able to check it off as one of the things i’ve done so that i can wave my checked off card in everyone’s face and say see i am human now stop judging me

but the landscape would still look unrealistic.





but the people would still look like robots.

only jamie stewart understands


isn’t being alone, it’s when someone loves

you and you don’t have it in you to love them back”)

i’d stick my head in the oven to tell him.

i’d scream it while inhaling the gas and heat BOOM (your fault). i’d dissipate like smoke.

see? girls can be sarcastic too. HAHAHAHA.

i wish i could be as vulgar and obscene as i really am but it’s not acceptable. it makes for interesting conversation though.



i’m not putting a period at the end of this post that would mean things are ending

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i officially feel the most tired i have ever felt in my life, ever.

after five hours of uncomfortable sleep, i went to staten island for a wedding/wedding reception extravaganza (i stayed awake with the help of a shot of expresso, two coffees, and a red bull thankyouverymuch). bill gave me the complete works of e e cummings after i mentioned him briefly (he said he had owned the book for years). i think it’s the best thing i’ve ever been given.

i spoke to people who hadn’t seen me since i was first born. it was odd. after a while, i probably looked like the most insecure secure person in the world. i had a glass of sangria and the coffee was still working. the mixture had me swaying back and forth when i stood up to talk to people. i felt sexy but i probably looked stupid.

i didn’t get home till about 3 in the morning. on the way back, the road and bridges met with the sky to look like a collage. exhaustion was begining to settle in and, thus, i felt my most vulnerable (i’m always insecure when i’m tired). i sat there, listening to this god awful band (that happens to be my favorite) and came to a splendid realization:

i love you and i know this is so because, regardless of some of the choices you’ve already made, i’ve always had an unspoken unexplanable understanding for why you’ve made them. i know it’s so because i feel connected on a level that superceeds all that can be felt through skin on skin contact and even if we never meet in that sense again i’d still be as happy as i am now. i’ll never apologize for that brief incounter though.

i’m rambling. horrid.

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fuck no.

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sorry for the short post. sometimes i feel as though i have nothing to say and then i realize that that’s all i do. say things. i promise i’ll upload some photos soon, it’s just that every time i want to, i can’t find my camera.

i’ve been trying to use the secret lately (there’s no harm in trying, right)? i start by using a book and dividing each two page section into two parts (one page for things that i’m thankful for and the other for what i want in life). the thankful side is always full for there’s always something to be thankful for in life yet the want side only has one name. ughhh. that was a bad line. this situation has my emotions down to the contents of hallmark cards.

i was impulsive after scolding him for being that way but i’d do it again if i could. 

all i can feel are the small impressions left on my neck. if i could, i would keep them forever.

i looked at the dashboard, because i never look people in the eyes,




and said “you’re not allowed to say sorry anymore, okay?” 

 oh, if only you weren’t so confused.

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let me apologize. i tend to overreact sometimes.

yesterday was nice.

that’s all.

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