Monday, November 29, 2010

It's just not night.

It's too fork. It's too wall.
It's much more bat than it is ball.
The skin side soft, the dog hide luck.
An analogy in pick hand, it's negatively duck.
Too many spies, yet not enough hashes.
Crinkling, sinking, frantic splashes.
It can't be won, it's much too gate.
Yet he might snatch the crane if it hadn't come straight.


Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Do I dare to this 30-day thing?

Do I really?

Well, why not.

I'm not going to spam you guys and do it by day, but rather cluster 'em together, posting them whenever I want to. :)


#1 A picture of yourself and 10 facts.

(See the excessive overexposure? Can you say "glorified"? )

1. Have you noticed that I'm trying to refrain from swearing all the time? It's kind of a dirty habit.
2. I went home early from school today. And got to take a 4-hour nap.
3. I drink straight out of the carton when no one's looking. Yum.
4. I have a big scar on the right side of my face under my eye. I don't even remember getting it, but my dad told me that when I was two years old I fell off of a chair and cut my face on the cup that I was holding.
5. Life is good.
6. I spend too much time on the internet. So much that I concern myself.
7. I'm willing to do a lot of stupid things. And that concerns me as well.
8. I'm not as shy as I used to be. I don't know what happened.
9. I like people boys who have big teeth. And nice hair.
10. You know what's delicious? Raspberry sherbet.

#2 How you got your blog name.

I like the word "cerulean" and "cerulean skies" is an alliteration. Which is also something that I like.

There's not much more to it.

#3 Hometown location and facts.

As awesome as you guys are, there's no way that I'm going to tell you where I live.

But I'll give some facts.

- Farms and churches. That's about it.
- The population is about 7,500
- I live next to a Christmas Tree Farm. In approximately 3 days, people are going to come from all over and clog up my street with their silver minivans.
- It's made up of 95% white people. Really. You look at a pie graph of ethnicities and it's ridiculous.
- We have to go to neighboring towns to find something to do.
- Precisely because it's so boring, a lot of the rich white teenagers here are whiny and smoke weed to pass the time.
- It's a town we love to hate.

Alright, I won't torture you guys any more today.

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Sunday, November 21, 2010

I've decided that when I grow up I want to be an urban explorer.

I could find the beauty and fascination in the places that people no longer find useful or interesting or financially able to sustain. Nearly frozen in time, with nothing but a fine layer of dust and decay to remind explorers otherwise.

I couldn't think of a better adventure to go on with somebody.

Broken Bells - "Sailing to Nowhere"

[James Mercer is my hero. Check out this LP in its entirety.]


Wednesday, November 17, 2010

I call this one '"Blazed Caterpillar"

Of course I pay attention in school.

Why on earth would you think otherwise?

A Day to Remember - "This is the House that Doubt Built"



Monday, November 15, 2010

On my bedroom wall--hidden among hundreds of magazine clippings, idioms, developed film rolls, stickers, and drawings—is a phrase that I had clipped out from a magazine I don’t remember the name of.
What separates us from the animals?
It reads in all capital letters, making it look as if the author of the article was either desperately begging the question to all of humankind or knew precisely what he was talking about. No matter if it was either the latter or the former, I regret not even looking at the article long enough to ever find out what it meant. Because now as it sticks--magic-taped--to my purple wall, I realize that I’ve never given it more than a moment’s thought. I originally brushed it off as a nice combination of words—something I could ponder later if I really wanted to. But honestly...
What does separate us from the animals?

Radiohead - "Fake Plastic Trees"

(I'm not really an avid Radiohead listener, but I've really started to like this song. I have to thank Christopher for the recommendation... he has legitimate good music taste, something of which I only pretend to have...)


Thursday, November 11, 2010

I officially have a pen pal.

Two letters back and forth, it's official.

Her name is Chanel and she's eight years my senior and lives in Southern California and likes bad words and good music. Like me.

Sorry if I'm kind of writing in a poem form.

I just wrote a poem for my college writing class



sort of in a



With strange line breaks and all.

I used to have a pen pal when I was in third grade. I remember that it was a boy from Ireland and our typing class contacted the school through email. Only I couldn't type very well and I never got to say much.

I was very surprised that he could type so much for a boy who went to school in a cobblestone schoolhouse with a roof made of grass and rolling hills and stone walls in all directions and the occasional sheep.

I wonder if he remembers having an American pen-pal in third grade.


Thursday, November 4, 2010

a low hum
insides quiver gelatinously
as each stroke materializes
with a quick strike from a stick of ebony
yes mistakes
"no mistakes"
but mistakes are made anyway
a piece of rebellious hair
sticks up in back
the twisting of a pale earlobe
the sucking of a pink lip
you've come to love
a popped vessel in an eye
branches out like a bloody tree
or its roots
or freshly oxygen-pumped veins
an imperfect duplicate slowly emerges
making something from nothing
with four senses omitted
the eyes are pleased
you are pleased


Is "gelatinously" a word?
It should be.

My mom checked out a college guide for me from the library. She's supposed to return it today and I've hardly looked at it.
It makes me nervous.

It's really beautiful outside. Gloomy and gray and windy and dark is the best type of weather.

Random thoughts aside, I hope you enjoyed my poem.

Yesterday I "skipped" my x-period club (don't ask... my school's weird) to goof off in the art room with Mike and his friends. I half-pretended that I didn't know that Alex Sherman spent his x-period in the art room as well. I felt my stomach tighten when he came in the room anyway. So I did what any other teenager with a crush would do-- I creepily observed him as he drew.

He had a very loose drawing style. Chaotic and wonderful and perfect at the same time.

Later in college writing Mr. Torres told us to write a poem about a theme that we've already done or something -- but I didn't feel like doing that. So I wrote about being a creep and how I drew Alex Sherman as he drew his skeleton instead.

I wonder if he noticed.

Maybe not. He left before I could even finish his hair.

You know what would be awesome?
If one day I went up to him and just started talking to him.
I already promised myself that I would before he graduated at the end of the year.
It's a nice idea.
DAMN, he's cute.

Making April - "Roses and Butterflies"

[I really love this song and wish Mack had told me about it sooner! :p I've been in a piano-rock-type mood lately, anyways :) ]



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