this journal isn't who I am anymore, not really. If you still want to know what I'm doing or thinking, please add my new journal: WhiskeyOctopony. I want to write more often, but I need a new space to do so. I hope everyone adds it.

mood: a quickening

I miss pals.

I got a tattoo yesterday.

I am living in Pittsburgh with my amazing boyfriend for the summer.

I'm coming to Austin on Thursday, and will be staying until the 7th of June.

How's that for an update?

I'm sorry I'm a bad friend but I meant it if I ever said that I'd be there for you if you ever needed me, no matter what. If you ever said anything like that back to me, now is the time that I need you.
Now is when I fall apart.

Here is the most straightforward cry for help that you will probably ever experience.


I really really need friends. right. now.

so when I am in texas I say daaaaang a lot and I get my drawl back and eat tacos all day and am perpetually drunk and confused as to how I became that way. I go to big asshole parties and hang out with big assholes and wonder bunny princesses and I get hit on which is weird after living in massachusettes where everyone is aware of my status and knows better.

on the the airplane before it took off I saw two snowflakes against my window that were exactly alike. exactly.
then the airplane went through a car wash for airplanes! airplane airplane airplaaaaaane. zoommmmm.

I haven't seen emily and jenny as much as I would like. I don't know if it's my fault and so I feel hesitantly guilty. I love you ladies. I looove the laaaadies.

Tomorrow me and kaylan have to be models. we have a photoshoot, which is a funny thing to say when people ask you what you're doing on friday. makeup at nine am! My hair looks like a dolce and gabbana ad. I'll post pictures when we get 'em.

I've made funny new friends. I hyperventillate when I think about being away from Kaylan again. I forgot how necessary it is to be really really close to more than just one person.

My livejournal entries have always sucked. I'm never satisfied with them. I just try to be honest I guess but I wish I was more funny.


I LOVE YOU AUSTIN, TEXAS!

I am going to be in town as of the 18th of December, and will be staying through the 2nd of January. I'd better get big fucking hugs from every last one of you.











(I'm sooooo excited. I miss you kidz hard)

I'm okay. I figured some shit out. I've switched majors from art history to demonology (and art production, I was going crazy from not making anything...bitch needs to CREATE!)
I love you guys.
Shannon, you're the sweetest thing ever...don't worry about not calling, I had lost my phone at the time, actually, but I have it now and I will call you soon.
Thank you to everyone who had kind words for me. (Even if you don't know me that well...Mikaylah, it meant a lot, we should hang out when I come down for christmas break if you want to/are available) Sometimes I need to freak out.
I might start therapy, but I'm nervous, and since I was raised by a psychologist, I tend to think it's bullshit.
I get to live an amazing life. I know that. I always know that. I have trouble being confident in myself, but I'm going to start trying to push myself, instead of wallowing in my obsessive perfectionist fear of failure.
Singing helps.
I'm full of love, and I need to remember that fear can be exhilarating, and that satisfaction is death.

I haven't been this unhappy since I went crazy in tenth grade and had to either be pulled out of school or institutionalized. I'm fucking drowning, and for the first time I can't find poetry in anything. I've lived my whole life screaming "death to apathy, I am a child of the passions, I was born in the month of revolution!" and now it's come to this.
I don't even know why I'm writing this here; I treat livejournal with a certain amount of contempt, except that it is one of my only windows to those far away from me. I'm embarassed but I don't know what else to do.
I've completely lost confidence in myself, and I'm beginning to wonder if I ever had any in the first place. I hate everything I do, everything I say...I can't write papers or fucking go to class and I'm not creating, I'm not writing, I'm not making art, I'm not even sewing and it's killing me slowly. I am so disappointed in myself that I am paralyzed with fear of the future...I don't want to work in retail forever but I'm not fucking worth anything else.
I can't talk to anyone because everyone else is disappointed in me too, or they would be if I could talk, but I clam up, I'm not doing the people who care about me justice, and I don't deserve their loyalty or love. I'm not interesting. I'm not fun. I used to be a good student! Learning has always been all I've cared about and now...getting out of bed is too much of a challenge.
I can feel that old insanity rising up again and I'm terrified...I don't want to be that person again, huddled in a corner, afraid of my best friends and my parents. I thought I had overcome this, I thought I was past it, but now I am afraid that it's always there, waiting for me to give in.
I've regressed, I'm secretive again, but it isn't on purpose. I want to be able to talk, I just can't stop punishing myself. "emily, what's wrong?" "nothing". What is that? Why can't I trust anyone, why can't I find the right words? "hey miss, you dropped your smile" "nah, I threw it away".
New Orleans. Sudden migraines and brain problems. A job I hate. Losing Austin the city, and then Austin the boy, and I can't cope, I still can't and I don't know why. I lost one of my best friends over the summer, even though he was in the next room or just down the hall. I'm dangerously close to failing a class for the first time in my life. I've been so sick. If I wasn't so upset about it I would think I had finally given in to apathy. I don't trust myself to do anything.
My friends here shouldn't have to deal with me. I don't want to deal with me.
I wish that there was more to life than this. My friends get drunk and laugh and stay up all night, and I go to sleep in my room because I have to concentrate in order to laugh. I don't want anyone to have to worry about me, to feel like they have to help me, because they can't. If I'm going to survive, I have to do this myself. I just don't think I have the strength.
This is long, but that's good because then everyone will just scroll past it. I shouldn't be dumping this on you, I just can't keep it inside anymore.
I wish I had a fairy godmother to wave a magic wand and show me what to do...I wish that I felt like I could do something without needing someone to hold my hand.
I was so happy last year. I have amazing friends, and I'm in love. At 18 years old, that should be enough. I should be happy. Right now I just feel like I'm depending on everyone else's kindness while I can't do anything for them or myself. I feel so completely worthless.
I am a lucky, priveledged girl. I try to be grateful. I just hate myself lately.
Maybe now, after pouring it all out, maybe I can get past this. I need to get my shit together. I need to be organized. I need to remember that I am happiest after working hard on something that matters to me, and school matters to me so much.
I'm sorry, to everyone I've hurt, to everyone who has tried to help me. I'm sorry to myself, for being too much of a coward to be a credit to those that raised me.
I know it will all be okay. I'm not saying it won't be. I just needed to explain it, to myself and to everyone who deserves an explanation for my erratic behavior.
shake yourself, girl, and don't give up. don't die of disappointment. don't break your own heart.

I just feel lost.


"she's lost control again, she's lost control"
I'm sorry.

feeling my way...maybe a god came here to play a trick on us, to switch our socks as we slept, to hide our cigarettes and toothpaste. Maybe my brain is falling out. Lately I've been looking for a part of myself I forgot about, some vague sentiment that a single smell will undoubtedly bring back in a rush in a week or two. texas lives in my blood, I think. I never noticed while I was there, but there is a point of origin, a call to roots, to gatherings of too many people who have been through too much together. home, history.
someone is playing the lion king soundtrack and I'm pretty sure it is making me want to die.
lately I sleep a lot, and I half feel like regaining my long abandoned habit of sucking my thumb.

I want a really good long conversation. And I want JTT to get his career back. What happened to that guy?

I want to get my goddamn tattoos.

My heart goes out to everyone in austin. I'm so sorry I can't be there with you to share your grief, and to have someone to share mine with. There's nothing else I can say here that won't just sound trite. I love you guys. I'm so sorry.

I could regale you with quirky stories about my job, but it is easiest just to say that I like it okay, and that maybe I will get arm muscles from lifting heavy boxes. My supervisor will laugh at absolutely any joke.
I get to smash glass with a hammer whenever I feel like it.

Shannon. Oh, Shannon. I could shout your name from rooftops. I've been thinking about you a lot lately, my darling princess tater tot.

I got a call from a detective who left a cryptic message, so of course I thought my family was dead, but it turns out it was just boring Austin drama, and sorry, I'm not ratting kids out whether or not I'm on some hate list in their house.


My apartment is named the Rocket Haus, and we are all living in sin.

I'm nervous about fall semester for a couple of reasons.

I'm finally confident about some things that I had always questioned in a small voice in the back of my head. That is liberating.

Alex Celeste Carroccio is still my best friend in the whole universe even though I'm terrible at keeping in touch with anyone.

I am completely obsessed with the X Files. Up until Mulder leaves. Because who cares about government conspiracies without the obvious sexual tension? That Terminator II guy does not fire up Scully's libido. I refuse to believe it.

I am a little old lady sometimes.

Upon rereading my (previously) most recent post, I have come to the conclusion that I just keep getting weirder.


I am cultivating a new strain of Socially Awkward.

I can't decide if I'm embarassed by this or not, but I actually sit down and play with words so infrequently now that I wanted to get a teeny bit of feedback/criticism if that would be okay. This is just my way of apologizing to my hand for the blister from pressing a pen too hard too long to paper that won't hold still. The cut is so you don't have to look at it if you don't want to.

( Read more... )

Maybe nothing is as random as you think.

Economics: I finally got a job, at a Michael's crafts store. How kitchy of me, but you know I'm going to have an abundance of supplies. Most of the time if you ask me what I'm doing I'll say "makin' stuff".

Singing: I'm pretty sure that my band is called Whiskey and the Noise Boys now, but we debate everything too much. Shut up, at least it isn't. Um. You know. What it was. Let's never speak of this again. We're playing at a methodist church in the Bronx on I think August 26th? Ish. And something else I don't remember. Is there something on August 3rd? (Hey Blackheart: on august 20th do you think it would be possible for you to come up here to play a show? The tattoo parlor James works at now is having a one year business anniversary party, and his boss wants us or something.) Also in late September/early October we might be playing with toxic narcotic at cbgb's. what the fuck, I'm so gawdamn punk rock lately.

against me is playing with world inferno friendship society which would be pretty fun I think. I missed devo last night in nyc. I keep doing that.

apparently I'm boring as hell. my living situation is an often-fun but nonetheless black hole of seclusion.

TODAY I APPLIED AT AN ADORABLE CANDY SHOP THAT IS ACTUALLY HIRING AND I THINK THEY LIKED MEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

and in ten hours I will be on a plane to Toronto. Weird. The best thing is my little brother is coming back with me to stay with us for awhile!!! Man that really encompasses the spirit of Snowflake Day. (I don't really expect anyone to catch that reference unless it's one of the people I live with, or another Clone High enthusiast, but I'm keeping it there because I didn't have a better way to describe how the prospect of hanging out with my awesome little brother makes me feel.)

I just typed about other shit for awhile, then realized I was talking about my hair, got embarassed, and deleted all of it.

the word update has rarely seemed this appropriate.
I rarely speak even to my favorite friends from Texas, but please know that I love you and miss you as much as ever.
For anyone who wonders: I currently live in Amherst Massachussets, in an unairconditioned sweat bath of a two bedroom apartment officially inhabited by four, and often occupied by (so far) up to seven. I'm having...a difficult time with employment. Two weeks ago I quit a job canvassing for MassPIRG (going door to door asking people for money for the environment) because honestly, that's the worst job ever. (Shannon, this is enough to make me miss spreading salmon cream cheese on chocolate chip bagels, although I always miss being mean to everyone with you.) I've been applying to no avail, because it turns out that everyone needs a job and no one is hiring. So now that I'm broke again I think I'm going to do tele-surveying, because at least it's air conditioned and they give you free coffee, you don't have to make a quota, and you can make your own schedule. Not too bad, and it's a whole quarter over minimum wage! I hope they're hiring.
I've been having a lot of weird medical problems involving my brain, but I just got cat scan results back and it turns out I just developed chronic migraines all of a sudden. The doctors say it is probably stress related. It seems like I've been more stressed than this before, but I guess that shit builds up. I need a live-in masseuse.
All I do (aside from the usual social activities) is sew. I've been designing and making dresses, mainly, and it's wonderful therapeutic fun, especially since I never really bothered to "learn" to sew, so there is figuring out to do. Sometimes this is an activity in which I am joined by a couple of intensely punk rock guys who usually end up convincing me that many things need to be lit on fire or blown up.
I sleep a lot less than I used to, by turns. I'm pretty much nocturnal at this point. I'm still in love with the sun, but there's nothing like barton springs or the greenbelt here, or even any apartment complexes with pools to break into. It feels so weird not to swim all the time, not to have at least one friend with a dog to go to the nonexistant parks with.
When Kaylan comes up, I'm taking her to the graveyard and we are going to drink a bottle of wine on Emily Dickenson's grave.
I haven't had band practice in two months, and it's depressing me, because practice and shows are the only times people let me sing to them. Sometimes I just want to sing to everybody.
I'm pretty sure I'm happy, but I think I've been too distracted by various worries to notice for very long at a time. I do a lot of nothing, but I still feel busy, and it's kind of nice. I like making things when I get bored, instead of just getting trashed, like I probably would in Austin.

(I wrote the following a second ago, and embarassingly enough, it appears to be "shoutoutz". I just wanted to comment on that because I think it's funny.)
ALEX CELESTE CARROCCIO, HAPPY (3rd!) ANNIVERSARY, YOU AMAZING BEST FRIEND, I LOVE YOU AND I MISS YOU SO MUCH, I'M GOING TO SAIL THE SEVEN SEAS JUST TO FIND TREASURE TO BRING YOU. Shannon I miss you and I love you and so many quiet thoughts I send you telepathically daily. Someone please tell Feriel that I love and miss the silly shit out of her. No one needs to tell Kaylan because she has an elephant's memory and our companionship is intrinsic to the best world takeover plan ever. Becka, you are the distant cousin that should have been my sister, come home to my arms. Sarahs Z and C (sorry it's just handy that you have the same names and relatively the same message) I pine for the days we will actually fucking hang out again...it might be years, but I assume we'll dye the gray out of one anothers' hair. Chrissy, as soon as I'm slightly less poor I promise that I am going to steal you and we are going to play SO hard. Blackheart...I want to have tummy talk, and that's all I'm going to say to you because you are for some reason the only bro in this paragraph, and I just can't risk your ego getting big, because that could result in you replacing me in diva status, even though you're probably hanging out with small children and not reading my internet babble.
HAY EMILY POUNDS-JOHNSON AND JENNY ARTHUR: I misssssss you ladies and I want you to know how much fun I had with you in Austin. Love and snuggles.

holy hell I'm a faggot. what a boring thing to make people scroll through. not even any pretty pictures of blurry leaves or whatever from stupid angles.

mood: cracked out on nosleep. music: this only makes fun of my broken ears

And I am in Austin, have been since Thursday. And this place is so predictable, but filled with pockets of secrets and new understanding, and it isn't that anything important has changed...places have shifted and disappeared and conformed and have reluctantly become more accomadating for the masses, but the people and their stubborn promises to themselves have held as strong as they always have, still hold stronger than their promises to the people they sometimes care about.
And oh, I love them, and I will always love them, because despite the rearranging of ideals and alliances, this is the family you pick, no matter who is worth speaking to this month, because there are layers, endless layers and secret tenderness, hidden sentiment, and I had been starved of certain kinds of long conversations, conversations about growth over years, about learning to love ourselves by standing up back to back, pushing and leaning against one another until heaven is that much closer, and we are that much further from our roots.
I want everyone to know that it was a rare moment if I have ever been this happy before. I feel completely kissed, held and cradled in raucous quiet, in an almost forgotten sense of home. My birthday is tomorrow, but the excitement for that sort of thing has faded like the idea of christmas; my excitement comes from the people I know I will see, and how even if they didn't think of me at all for the last five months, they will smile, and we will acknowledge the passing of time, and come briefly to a sudden realization that slowly and painfully we are growing up.
Certain things have mended, and I am so grateful, though some things have been shattered forever, but forever in this town is so undefined. I love coming back to this, though I am glad that I didn't stay. A year ago I was terrified that I was becoming apathetic, but now the passion is back, and my fingers itch to create, and I know now, with confidence and relief, that I am not going to drown in my cup.
I am heartbroken that I am going to miss Kaylan and Alex and Sarah Zoraster. There are bits of me missing, just out of reach.
I can't wait to see Shannon, to hug one of the best ladies, one of the ones who saved me and was always so real. She is blunt honesty, and she loves with more fervor than most people I have ever known. It has been far too long, and I keep preparing myself for one of the most needed hugs I will recieve this year. So it is to Houston on Monday! And after three or four days, a very long drive with two people who have become my vertebrae in a place that could otherwise have felt so far away from home.
Thank you, Texas. For your schizophrenics and the air that feels too balmy to be so inland, and for love between best friends that is resumed without missing a beat, though our tired hearts might.

I'm still alive.

It turns out that I will be living here, in western mass, over the summer. I am getting an apartment with some friends and working. Same as everyone else, but on the east coast. I'll miss the green belt.

I think I've forgiven Texas and let it go simultaneously. I still feel the romanticism that comes with the word, but it isn't my home anymore. I don't really know where my home is...I'm drifting, and my excuse is being away to learn, but I'd be drifting even if I wasn't in school. It is strange to be without roots; with the freedom and lack of obligation comes a sort of loneliness...but that isn't to say that I don't have ties here, and I haven't forgotten the people I love back West. My sense of identity seems to have come loose; it isn't gone, but it is detached, put on hold.
I need a change, of some kind or another. I got a new dress, and that might be enough, but I doubt it. I'm happy, but in a way that feels stagnant, which is contrary to my nature. I think I'm waiting for something.

I'll be in austin for around a week I think, in the middle of May, until my birthday. I don't know how many people I want to see...I don't plan on partying, per se. I want to spend a lot of time with my family, but I might be bringing people with me, so I'd also like to show them a good time. The purpose of the trip, honestly, is to cash in the insurance money acquired from the death of BloodRocket, and get a new car. After my birthday, whoever I'm travelling with and I will go to Houston for a couple of days to see the amazing Shannon and Tyler, and then road trip back up to here.

The snow is gone. I think I'm coming back to life, slowly.

Becka I miss you. I don't think June is soon enough.

obviously my favorite song is hoochie mama by 2 live crew.

and maybe the best thing ever is getting woken up at 10 am by an awesome friend you havent seen in three months, showering in adjacent stalls, and then meeting up with all the other kids in a room where you can see the air, having a cocktail in hand by eleven am, fancy glasses, no going to classes. today is declared Anderson Steele Returns day, and must be celebrated accordingly. So is the rest of the week.

FOUND POETRY SYMPHONY in production at seven.

almost makes it okay that I can't fix everything in the world.

who wants to play exquisite corpse with me?

lately I'm mostly into russian futurism and zom poetry.

"Frot fron yt
I don't argue in love
Black language
Wild tribes also had
it all"
aleksei kruchenyk




word world
change a letter in a word
and the world itself changes
world word
the russian word for sword is mek
and the russian word for ball is mak
change one letter, and you go from war to play.
that is amazing.

all I do is make collages and actively miss the usual girls. k.b., b.s., s.c., a.c., and sometimes f.m., but she's forgotten about me. Other people too, but those are the regulars in my brain. I have two friends that are girls here, maybe three, and they're awesome but it takes me a lot longer to open up and get close to people as of late. I didn't think I'd mind, but sometimes you need to talk to someone who won't change the topic of conversation to ballsweat or music or something. neat how I don't connect well with most ladies, and the ones I finally got close to live a million miles away.

sticking q-tips in my ears makes me cough sometimes. in german, following linguistic history, cough would be spelled cach or coch or something. I don't speak german.

I think tomorrow I'm going to listen to James Brown and dance in my room by myself like I did before I moved away, because I seem to remember that making me happy. How cliche. I'm lonely lately, but I shouldn't be. There's lots of great kids here.

It's snowing again. I like to watch people shake their coats off when they step inside. It's a body long shiver, and a white powdery spray. And then they track wet footprints.